#almostfamousgrl

Mark was never really a good shot. His hands shook, the weight of the gun and the uncertainty of the kill keeping him unsteady. He preferred strangulation, stabbing, and blunt force. It was more personal, in a way. To kill with those methods, he had to get close. He had to put more than mental effort into it. But Lily had insisted he practice before she left to be in New York City, so practice he must.

He’d erected makeshift targets on mannequins he’d taken from the attic, then stepped back fifteen yards, a suitable distance by his judgement. Lily had left him a Glock, which he assumed Luke picked out for him. Luke had always mocked him for his lack of skills with a gun. It would be good to finally silence him for at least a moment.

Mark looked up at his targets. He’d missed a few times and hit a few times, but none of his shots were fatal. Frustration burned in his chest. He rarely failed at anything. He shouldn’t fail at killing, of all things. Luke made it look so effortless. Anything Luke can do, Mark should be able to do too. They were twins. Mirrors. Sure, they had their differences, but most of them were in personality. Skill was something else entirely.

He reloaded the gun, huffing in the cool, fall air and watching the vapor dissipate. He wanted to get at least one kill shot before dark, and it was already late afternoon. He didn’t want to fail Lily. He didn’t want to fail Luke.

Mark took a deep breath and raised the gun again. He trained the gun on the painted red center of the middle mannequin and cocked the gun. He’d get it this time, he had to. He took another breath, and pulled the trigger. He couldn't stop his eyes from closing for a fraction of a second.

He lowered the gun and looked at the mannequin. It hadn’t moved. The paint wasn’t marred. He missed again.

“Goddammit,” he sighed. He rubbed his eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t get a kill shot in afterall. He lowered his gun, but a hand caught his before it fell completely.

“No, try again.”

Mark looked over his shoulder. Luke was relaxed, not judging or mocking, just blank. He looked at the target and raised Mark’s arm, stepping close behind him. Almost too close.

“First of all, keep your eyes open. Never look away from your target.”

Mark nodded. Luke encouraging him and helping him was always strange. He was quick to joke, quick to criticize. The frustration he felt earlier melted into a different warmth. Mark stiffened as Luke pressed himself up against his back, his free hand moving to Mark’s hip to pull him even closer. With his back against Luke’s chest, Mark found it harder to slouch, to hide.

“Second, stand straight. It should come easy but since it doesn’t…”

Mark tried to steady his breathing. Luke was quiet in his ear. It was unnecessary; they were alone out here. And yet Luke whispered like he was sharing a secret in a crowded room. The ghost of his breath on Mark’s ear and neck made him shiver. He was sure Luke could feel that, as close as he was.

“That’s right. Third, breathe.” Luke’s thumb snuck under the hem of Mark’s shirt to brush over the delicate skin of his side. “Stay calm. Breathe.”

Mark’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. Luke had to feel Mark’s heart racing. It would take more than breathing to calm it. But he tried, taking deep breaths, staring the target down. Luke’s hand shifted to cup Mark’s hand and the butt of the gun. His thumb kept brushing Mark’s skin. It was maddening.

“Good. Cock the gun.” He did. “Breathe.” He did. “Concentrate.” God, he was trying. But his eyes didn’t leave the target. In the position Luke kept him in, it was much easier, much more comfortable. Despite other discomforts. “Fire after you exhale. Take your time.”

Mark nodded again. He breathed in, breathed out. Breathed in, breathed out. Luke didn’t comment. Mark took a deep breath, and let it out. And fired.

The mannequin fell. Luke released Mark and ran over to it. Mark felt a loss. The cool air was cooler against his back. But the tingling, the warmth in his chest, were both still there. He watched Luke bend over the mannequin. And when he stood, a wide smile brightened his face. He threw his arms up and cheered before running back to Mark. Mark shot him a small, bewildered smile. When Luke got back to him, he took his face in both hands and shook him.

“That’s it, baby brother!” He shouted, clapping him on the shoulder and pulling him into a hug. “Bullseye! You did it, man!”

Mark laughed despite himself. Luke’s joy was infectious when it was based on something Mark could be proud of. Luke pulled back, laughing, and held him at arms length.

“Now that you’ve done it once, you can do it again. We can try tomorrow.”

Marks brows drew together again. “But there’s still light, Luke. I should keep practicing.”

“No…” Luke shook his head, then took Mark’s chin in his hand and leaned in to kiss him softly. “You should celebrate this achievement with me. I know you want to…” He reached his other hand between them and cupped Mark through his jeans. Mark gasped into Luke’s mouth. “I felt you, Mark. Shaking… you want it.”