Austin's Blog

Marcus is at the living room couch, basking in the quiet and peace with his eyes closed. He hears someone enter the room. He opens one eye and sees his brother. Christopher looks just a worn out as him. Their number seven is usually pretty chipper and energetic, always having jokes to keep the mood up.

This day's training must have taken too much out of him that he has become speechless.

"Anyone sitting there?" Christopher tries to make a joke but falls a little flat along with his smile that looks quite strained due to weariness.

Marcus shrugs, "They just left, so it's pretty open."

"Damn, did your date stood you up?" there's some amusement in his voice, and Marcus can't help but smile at that, and he's so annoyed because he hates how easy it is for Christopher to make him smile.

"Haha, don't push it, Chris."

Christopher rests his arms on top of the backrest, his hand on Marcus' nape where he lightly massages it, "I'm not, I'm not," the tired voice is back as Marcus can see Christopher close his eyes.

"Put some pressure there," Marcus says and he likes the way Christopher's fingers feel on him, "On my should-"

Christopher is suddenly makes a pained hiss, his hand retracting away from Marcus. He can't tell if it's out of pain or that Christopher pulled away to not hurt Marcus.

"What's wrong?" Marcus is suddenly hovering, trying to see what had pained his brother.

Christopher is crouched down, holding onto his right hand that was shaking. He can see his brother's veins glow like electricity, pulsating in bright silver and gold. The temperature in the room is growing cold to the point that Marcus can see his breath form little puffs of clouds.

"Hey-"

"Don't touch me!" Christopher shouted, and he's panting hard, as though it was a feat itself to talk, "It's uh-" his brother is starting to stutter and he wonders if he should call Grace to check up on Christopher, "It's just too much energy." another lame joke coupled by a pained smile.

"Here," Marcus offers a hand, "You know I'm strong enough for both the electricity and your weak ass grip." he says as though it's to assert dominance, "You induce some nightmare though, and I'm throwing you to the fireplace."

Christopher laughs, genuine through the pain. He looks at Marcus' hand, yearning for his touch, "No."

The rejection was expected.

They both expect the rejection.

"No hand holding, just-" Christopher stops, controls himself, and tries to say the next words, "Just sit beside me."

It didn't occur to the both of them that this would be the last chance to hold hands in such a way. In the coming months later, Christopher's powers became uncontrollable, so much so that retaining a human body was no longer an option. Trust Reginald to come up with an insane way to keep his child's power intact. They were barely eighteen, but slowly, Christopher has morphed into something less human and more... unknowable.

They understood him, and they can tell when he's happy or feeling sad... Marcus can also understand the yearning.

Ten years later, Christopher had become what he is now, a cube. It feels insane to think of what had become of his brother, but everyone in the family has changed in a way. Marcus sometimes feels like he's just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for either him or Sloane to show some sort of monstrosity.

Marcus is once again resting on their living room couch. The word is at peace; it had to be when they're the ones running it. He feels nostalgic for something when he was at the ripe age of seventeen.

It's no longer the sound of footsteps, but the sound of floating into the air. Marcus opens one eye and sees his brother floating to him.

A garbled unidentified jumble of sounds that he can easily understand and translate into Christopher saying, "Anyone sitting there?" it's no longer tired sounding, but chipper... yet it feels so familiar, like a long lost memory.

Marcus shrugs, "They just left, so it's pretty open."

"Damn, did your date stood you up?"

"Haha, don't push it, Chris." there's a quirk of a smile on his lips, nostalgic and yearning.

Time and opportunity are long gone

Christopher floats, his boxed body somewhat resting against the backrest. Marcus longs for his fingers to caress his nape once again.

Marcus stares up at the ceiling, and he knows that Christopher is doing the same. He wants to ask Christopher why he's here, why he's not hanging out with Ben and Fei, why he's here keeping Marcus company.

There are so many questions buzzing around in his head, but they lay unspoken.