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Dislikes: Writers block, loud noise, large crowds, spiders, arrogance/overconfidence.
Positive Traits: Patient, open-minded, kind.
Negative Traits: Withdrawn, brutally honest.
Illnesses: Depression, panic attacks.
Clothing: Caleb generally loves what is comfortable and fits his style: Long sleeves, jackets, even sweaters if the weather is forgiving. High waisted pants, boots, low collared shirts, and riding gloves. When he’s at home, he prefers to wear a suit, it makes him feel fancy.
Weapons: Sniper rifle, hunting knife, & springfield rifle with scope.
Pets: 2 cats, Merlin & Bastet, and his horse Lady Belle, a marble sabino criollo.
Relationships
Lee Jackson (Father, Deceased)
Elanora “Nora” Jackson (Mother, musician)
Elijah “Eli” Jackson (Brother, Outlaw)
Josiah Trelawny (Friend)
Merlin (Adopted Child Pet)
Bastet (Adopted Child Pet)
History and Notes (Last edited 7/18/20)
Calebs father died of tuberculosis a few years prior to 1899.
Elanora, Caleb’s and Eli’s mother is a violinist in the Saint Denis orchestra, and a retired nurse. She loves the job she has now, and plays her music with passion around the city.
Elijah is Calebs younger brother by 7 years. He’s 21.
The brothers are polar opposites in almost every way. Eli likes dogs, is outgoing and reckless, Caleb likes cats and prefers to keep to himself and is patient. Despite their differences, they get along well, and always recover from their fights.
Eli is wanted in Saint Denis for dabbling in the cities moonshine buisness and almost getting caught. He always finds a way to sneak back into the city to visit his brother and mother every few weeks. He currently runs a small posse nicknamed “The Fireflies” that camp out in Grizzlies East.
Caleb is one of Josiah Trelawnys informants, and a collector for Madam Nazar. He has a habit of keeping his own collections instead of turning them in for profits though.
It isn’t the flashiest, slickest tattoo parlour but for Simon and Daniel ‘Jericho’ is the place where they can truly be free. It’s a place that’s all theirs, a place they carved out with hard work, with blood, sweat, and tears- so so many tears.
At first it had been just the two of them, as it had always been ever since they were sixteen and kicked out by their parents, and then Josh joined them, and then North, and since that day they have been known as the Jericho Four. They each have a speciality: Daniel specialises in painterly techniques, of colourul swathes that washed over the skin; Josh specialises in minimalism, of crisp, strong black lines; North specialises in text, of a thousand fonts at the ready to speak their mind.
As for Simon, well, Simon has never been good at any of that stuff. He’s much better at caring for others, at nurturing and soothing and so that’s why Jericho has a cafe inside of it. He cooks, he bakes, he brews for both the customers being tattooed and for any family or friends hanging around for support. Sometimes they don’t come in for a tattoo at all, and Simon finds himself serving students and workers on their lunch break.
It isn’t ever going to make them rich, but it’s enough to get by comfortably and really, that’s all Simon could ever want.
“Got a pretty complex booking tomorrow.” Danny whistles low as he scrolls through the email on his laptop. Simon looks up from his book, interest piqued, and scoots closer to him on the couch.
“Oh?” His twin tilts the laptop slightly, showing a beautiful geometric explosion at the heart of a glowing blue triangle, as if it were in the midst of shattering outward.
“He’s asking for white ink for some of the lines, so it’ll glow under black light. This is a seriously massive piece.” Danny nods, impressed. “Multiple sessions, with extra surcharge for the white ink. He’s already sent the down-payment, so he’s definitely committed.”
“That’s a crazy amount of work.” Simon reaches over to click on the image so he can zoom in. “It’ll be stunning when it’s done. Where does he want it? On his back?”
“No, over his chest. The fragments will spill over onto his shoulder too.” Danny clicks onto the next image, of the design overlaid on a male silhouette. “I blocked off the entire afternoon for this.”
“Then you better rest up.” Simon taps his temple. “Big day tomorrow.”
It’s a slow going day but Simon loves those best. It’s even raining outside, which only adds to the soft cosy mood inside Jericho. With no other clients booked except for Danny’s new one, Simon finds himself sitting at a table with the other three sharing a freshly baked pear tea cake. The tattooists have their sketchbooks out, and Simon loses himself to the sound of the rain and the scrape of their pencils. There’s some semblance of inner peace to be found, he thinks, just in these sounds.
The door opens, and the muffled pattering of the rain turns into a roar momentarily as someone rushes in. Simon stands automatically, switching back into his hospitality role.
“Good afternoon, welcome to Jericho.” He greets the hooded man neatly securing his folded umbrella.
“Hi, I’m a bit early for my appointment but I thought I’d come in out of the rain since I was around anyway.”
“Mark S., booking with artist Daniel Lambert.” Simon nods. “Would like a coffee and something to eat while you wait?” The hood falls back and that’s definitely not some stranger named Mark S. “Oh you’re-”
“Markus Manfred.” Josh finishes behind him, standing in surprise. “It’s- wow. You’re really here. I saw your thesis at the Museum of Modern Art. I marched with you last Fall. I thought you were in London researching for your upcoming mural?”
“Just got in last night, actually.” Markus grins, offering his hand for Josh to shake. There he is, Markus Manfred, adopted son of Carl Manfred; artist and activist in equal measure. “A little jetlagged and still adjusting to the timezone, but I’m here in one piece.”
“You did that portrait series on the Eden Club workers.” North adds, offering her hand to shake.
“With my brother Leo, yes.” Markus shakes her hand firmly. “They needed a medium to tell their stories, and we were honoured to oblige.”
“So what’s the story about this tattoo, then?” Danny pulls up another chair to their table, and Markus takes a seat.
“I want to build on one I already have. I want to make it mine, because the original wasn’t my design.” He shrugs, leaning back comfortably in the chair. “I actually intend to commission tattoos from each of you, to tell my story. I use cloth and brick walls as my canvas, but I want my body to be a canvas for you.”
“I don’t know if you’re being eloquent or cheesy as fuck, but this is the most interesting commission I’ve ever been given so I’ll let it slide.” Danny smirks wryly and Simon smacks his shoulder.
“Behave.” He turns to Markus, and this close he can see those famous heterochromic eyes. “Coffee?”
“Yes please. And a slice of whatever this cake is, if there’s any left.” Markus grins, tapping the closest plate. “Smells divine and I bet it tastes just as heavenly.”
He’s seen a lot of half naked bodies. It comes with the job- not his in particular, but well, Danny’s and the fact the parlour is tucked just behind the cafe. Simon’s gotten used to seeing people in various states of undress, so used to handing nearly nude people coffees and slices of cake.
He’s not ready for Markus Manfred to take off his sweater and shirt, revealing a body surely identical to the grandiose marble sculptures that used to grace the ancient world. Not wanting to delay his tattoo appointment, the artist had picked up his cup after finishing his cake, carrying it to Danny’s station at the back and promptly undressing. Simon doesn’t know why he followed, but his feet seemed to carry him after them.
“Fuck.” Danny exhales. “That’s a Kamski.”
Markus looks down at his chest, at the glowing circle at the end of his sternum. His grin is sheepish as he scratches his nape and takes a seat. “Yeah, it is.”
“No way, an original Kamski? Not a Camden?” North follows into the room, Josh behind her. “From before he left CyberLife?”
“Thirium ink. I thought I’d never see one up close.” Josh breathes, voice tinged with awe. “When he left CyberLife he took the formula with him. Their tattoos use an inferior ink with a lower thirium ratio.”
“Well we definitely don’t have pure thirium ink here, sorry bud.” Danny pats his shoulder and Markus laughs.
“No, I know. I don’t want another tattoo like this one. I want one I designed.” Markus clarifies. “This is my story.”
Josh has a thousand questions, and Markus seems happy to answer them. Selfishly, Simon goes to the front door and turns the sign to say ‘Closed’, locking the door so no one else will disturb them. He makes another round of coffees and carries them to the back. Danny has his noise-cancelling headphones on to tune everyone out so he can work. Josh has dragged his chair closer, and North is sitting on her tattooist bench. Simon hands everyone a new cup and takes a seat at Josh’s vacated bench.
“Do you think we’ll ever reach that stage though? Artificial intelligence that can think for itself?” Josh asks curiously and Markus hums in thought.
“I think so. It’s the issue with making them look human, though. The moment we make androids is the moment we divide the world.”
“What do you mean?” North frowns. “Wouldn’t that, I dunno, be a good thing? People get attached to roombas. What more when there’s robots that look like us?”
“That’s what I mean though.” Markus clarifies. “Half of us would anthropomorphise them, and the other half would reject them completely, unable to bridge the fact they are different from us. Humans find it hard enough to treat each other with compassion, what more when there’s an android that looks just like them but is a machine?”
“Then I suppose an android revolution would happen.” North shrugs with a laugh. “If we ever treated them like shit, then we’d deserve the revolution coming for us.”
“I don’t believe it would come to that, I believe we are an intelligent, compassionate race.” Josh argues. “We would achieve integration and acceptance through dialogue.”
“And you- Simon, isn’t it?” Markus turns his head slightly to catch his gaze. “Where do you weigh in, in this theoretical android revolution?”
He wrings his hands, frowning. “I wouldn’t really ever want to take part in it.” A confession of cowardice, but an honest one at least. “I’d just want those I love to be safe. I’d- I’d go somewhere and wait it out, I guess. But if they needed help, I’d help them. I’m not sure how I’d help with caffeine and baked goods, but...I suppose if they needed a place to stay, a place to hide I could give them that much.”
“He’s a softie.” North pretends to ‘whisper’, shooting Simon a grin. “But he’s got grit, and will get the job done.”
“That’s not a bad thing.” Markus smiles at him, and Simon, honest to god, hand over heart, swears the world slowed for just a moment so he could enjoy it. “Kindness in the face of a cold, cruel, apathetic world is an act of bravery, of defiance.”
They talk and they talk and Simon loses track of time until Danny takes off his headphones.
“Ok Christ I need a pee break.” He bins his gloves and makes shooing motions at Markus. “Go on, you too, before I start the next part.” He leads him away and North crosses over to sit next to Simon, elbowing him.
“I’m a flaming homo but that boy is…” She clicks her tongue as she makes an ‘ok’ sign with her fingers. “Gorgeous.”
“Who cares about that, he’s so-” Josh struggles to verbalise his thoughts, making a frustrated gesture with his hands. “He’s so beautifully compassionate and driven. He spoke at the protest I marched at, but only briefly. Hearing his thoughts, hearing his opinions here in private is just...something else.”
“Simon has stars in his eyes.” North teases, poking his cheek. He bats her hand away.
“I do not. I’m staring a healthy amount. Surely no one should look that beautiful and still be human, right?” He asks, exasperated. “He has freckles. Everywhere. He has the body of a marble statue. He speaks like a Roman orator. Or some Greek philosopher. He has one blue eye and one green eye for god’s sake, who let him loose on the world?”
“The more important question is,” North jabs his side, causing him to yelp “is he single?”
“Oh, yeah, because he’s going to be so interested in a coffee boy at a tattoo parlour.” Simon rolls his eyes. “I have so much to offer.”
“You do, Simon.” Josh frowns. “I do take offense to that. You’re a wonderful person, you gave North and I a chance when no one else would. You found us at our worst and helped us become who we are today.”
“Pretty boy would be lucky to have you.” North pecks his cheek. “I mean it.”
They end up ordering Mexican because it’s already six o’clock the next time anybody checks and Markus seems content to stay a little longer. Somehow in the span of an afternoon he feels like he’s always belonged right here in their little quartet. Even if he’s sitting there half naked with cling film wrapped taut around his freshly inked chest and shoulders.
“Ok Danny,” North fixes him with a serious look, “important question: where do you stand in the android revolution?”
“In the-” Danny makes a face. “Is this the shit you guys were talking about while I was working?”
“Well not the whole time.” Markus laughs. “Though I’d like to hear your thoughts.”
“I dunno. Would we be able to afford one?” Danny scoops salsa onto a chip and pops it into his mouth. “I’d treat them well, I guess. Make ‘em feel part of the family. If you treat them badly, they could snap and then you’d deserve what’s coming to you.”
“We’re years- decades away from that kind of tech.” Simon shakes his head. “It doesn’t really matter right now.”
“It does.” Markus objects. “They might not be real now, or maybe not ever, but how we treat anything not human is a reflection of ourselves. They’re mirrors held up to test our humanity.”
“This is way too deep for Mexican on a Wednesday.” Danny declares through a mouthful of food. “Just putting it out there.”
“I’m sorry I’m sorry!” He laughs, expression apologetic. “I swear I’m not like this all the time.”
“Pineapple on pizza?” North demands, pointing an accusing finger. “Wrong answer sends you out the door.”
“Can I abstain from answering until I finish my dinner?”
“I’ll allow it.” A pause as she narrows her eyes threateningly. “But only just.”
Markus Manfred takes a taxi home at about 8pm and Simon doesn’t quite know if any of it’s real, if any of it actually happened. It has to have happened, because there’s another session booked to occur in exactly three weeks. He loads the dishwasher as Danny takes out the trash, waving to Josh and North as they take their leave. Three weeks and Markus will return. How will he fill his time until then?
He doesn’t need to wait three weeks, in fact, because Markus comes back the very next day.
“Hey.” A greeting paired with a thousand kilowatt smile, easy and charming.
“Good morning Markus.” Simon blinks in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d be back so soon. Is something wrong? Did you need Danny to have a look at the tattoo? Is it bleeding too much?”
“Actually,” he grins and oh it’s far too early for Simon to process such a sight “I was hoping for a cup of coffee and some breakfast?”
“Oh.” He nods numbly. “Y-yes of course. What can I get for you?”
“Strong black with honey, and something bread-y.” Markus takes a seat at one of the tables. “I thought I’d get some work done here. It’s wonderfully private.” A nice way of saying it’s not a bustling Starbucks, Simon thinks wryly, but he’ll take it. He serves him a large mug of coffee and a thick slice of banana bread and tries not to stare too much at Markus’ elegant hands as he takes out a sketchbook and thumbs through it idly.
“What gave you the idea of this tattoo?” Simon asks curiously as he spots early sketches of the tattoo design. He takes a seat opposite him, nursing his own large mug of coffee.
“I wanted to shatter through the wall of self-doubt, of anxiety that held me back.” Markus smiles softly, eyes roaming the page. “Growing up in Carl Manfred’s shadow wasn’t easy but a lot of it was all in my head. Dad has never been anything but encouraging to us, as Leo and I both branched out on our own artistic journeys. What held me back was my own fear to leave the safety of his name and stand on my own.”
“Shattering the red wall.” Simon nods slowly. “I guess we all have that moment, don’t we? A moment where we have to decide whether to stay behind it where we’re safe but also changeless, or fight and shatter it, to find our own way.”
“Did you have one, Simon?” He seeks his eyes with such an earnest expression. “A moment where you had to choose to shatter the red wall?”
“We didn’t have much choice.” A heavy sigh. “It was shattered for us, by our parents. We got kicked out at sixteen, and there was no red wall left to hide behind safely. We only had each other, and the only way was forward.”
Markus reaches over and squeezes Simon’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” He says with such sincerity Simon believes it.
“It’s alright. Jericho is where we can be truly free.” He smiles tiredly. “This place is everything to us, and Josh and North are like family. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.”
“Why call it Jericho?” Markus picks up a pencil, turns to a blank page and starts sketching.
“It was the name of an old freighter.” It’s been almost fifteen years, Simon thinks, but the memory is still sore. “We hid there for a while, when we didn’t have anywhere to go. It was falling apart but it was dry and safe. It was home.” And now home is here, home is just upstairs and it’s dry and safe but also warm and full of love. Simon props his chin on his palm. “Feels both like a lifetime ago and just yesterday, to be honest.”
“Grief and trauma are not linear experiences.” Markus shakes his head, eyes candid. “What you experienced at sixteen will always be valid. Our growth is measured in how we cope with that pain, with all we’ve learned over the years.”
It stuns him to hear it, and he feels his mouth open and close as he tries and fails to reply with something coherent. Markus scratches his nape sheepishly.
“Sorry, I’m doing it again aren’t I? Sounding like some cheesy self-help inspirational poster.”
“I’ve just never been told that before.” Simon admits, smile wobbly. “I guess I’m just so used to taking everything in stride and carrying on. I bury everything deeply, in the hopes I never really have to process it.”
“Then it just rots, Simon.” Markus reaches out again, placing his hand over his and giving a reassuring squeeze. “There’s no chance for growth if the roots are rotten.”
He looks down at their hands, and it’s as though his heart wants to soak up the contact, wants to drink it in as though he’s parched. It’s not as though he lacks affectionate touch, they’ve always been an affectionate quartet of friends, but it’s more like he can never get enough. Markus very gently rubs the back of his hand with his thumb in slow, light strokes. Heat pools in his cheeks.
“I’m alright now. I’m much much better here.” Simon smiles, and though it’s a little shaky it’s real and heartfelt. “I’m happy and I’m safe, and we’re financially secure, so what more can I ask for?”
“I’m glad.” He says, and Simon knows he means it.
Though he knows it’s selfish, Simon finds himself hoping Markus will drop by for breakfast often. He finds himself inexplicably drawn to him, and his heart leaps into his throat every time the handsome artist opens the door and strides to the counter with confident, purposeful steps. He always has a kind word for all of them, always has a brilliant dashing smile and Simon’s been very careful with heart over the years, but he’d be kidding himself if he said he wasn’t head over heels for Markus.
“How’s the mural coming along?” He asks as he sets down a steaming mug of coffee.
“Pretty good. Most of the underlayer is down, but it’s forecast to rain for nearly the whole week so I’ve got to postpone it a bit.” Markus sighs wearily. “That’s alright. I’ve got another piece I’m working on in the studio, so I don’t really mind. How’s things here?”
“We had another customer with an original Kamski.” Simon tells him, and Markus raises his brows in surprise. “I know right? What are the chances of having two of you come within the span of a fortnight? She’s a ballerina. I’m pretty sure North’s in love with her.”
“That would be Ms. Chloe Hersh.” Markus smiles. “I’ve met her only once at an art gala but she’s very lovely. She is the original Kamski. The recipient of the very first thirium tattoo.”
“That’s amazing. How lucky we are to have the two of you stumble upon our tiny little parlour.” Simon muses as Markus laughs softly.
“Simon we didn’t find this place out of luck, we sought it out.” He says knowingly, as if it’s always been a fact Simon overlooked. “There’s talent here, and warmth and kindness and really good coffee and the most amazing tea cakes ever.” He finishes with a wink, and Simon knows he’s absolutely done for.
*~*
When Markus arrives for his second session, there’s barely any preamble before he’s hanging up his coat and stripping off until he’s shirtless. The linework has healed, meaning Danny can progress with the colour. Simon sets down his coffee and a berry muffin on the little table by chair, and tries his very best not to stare.
“We dropped by Greektown to see the mural yesterday.” Josh says from across the room. “It’s coming along beautifully.”
“Thanks.” Markus smiles. “Weather finally cleared so I’ve been trying to cram in as much as I can before it turns bad again.”
“You’re doing the backdrops for the ballet next, right?” North hops up onto her bench. “Chloe told me.”
“Yeah, it’s my next project and my brother is doing the promo shoot for it.” He settles into position, taking a gulp of coffee before Danny guides him to stay still so he can begin. “It’ll be fun, it’s a modern Anna Karenina.”
“Small world huh? Or maybe you Kamski originals are all like, telepathic because of the fancy ink.” North teases, and Markus chuckles.
“Oh no you’ve figured it all out. That’s the real reason Elijah Kamksi invented a new ink- to make a group of improved humans.”
“I’d believe it.” North snorts back a laugh. “His house looks like a supervillain lair.”
They fall into easy conversation, and Simon leaves occasionally to serve a customer at the front or bring more drinks and food. North eventually moves off to start working on a client, and Josh finishes his final session on another.
It’s as the afternoon is winding down that Simon starts to see the small telltale signs of pain on Markus’ face. Over the sternum is one of the most painful areas of the body given the thinner layers of fat, muscle and skin and as Danny moves to start layering the colour, sweat begins to bead on Markus’ forehead as his brows pinch together.
Automatically Simon reaches for his hand, returning the reassuring squeeze he’d given him the week before. Markus tilts his head slightly and gives him a grateful look, grip tightening the longer Danny works over the sensitive area.
“Hey, you’re doing great.” Simon murmurs, mimicking his earlier actions as he rubs his thumb over the back of his hand soothingly. “And it’s looking beautiful too. It’s all worth it, I promise.”
Markus nods numbly, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth as Danny progresses further down his sternum. Simon doesn’t leave his side, and it’s only when Danny sits back and removes his headphones does he realise he hasn’t let go of his hand either.
They order burgers and fries from a diner not too far away, Markus joining them for dinner after the parlour is closed. With each visit it feels less and less like he’s a stranger and more as if he’s family.
Discussions and conversations flow, and he’s interesting and verbose even if tonight he’s a little more tired than usual: a marathon tattoo session definitely does that to a person, and Danny is much the same. When he’s wiping down the table, he sees Danny pull Markus aside just before Markus leaves. He says something, his expression serious, and Markus nods solemnly before leaving to catch his taxi.
“Did you tell him about the aloe vera?” Simon asks as his twin brother returns to his side to help him clean up.
“Uh yeah. Definitely needs a higher level of care this time around and I told him to send me photos if his skin acts up so I can tell him what it’ll need.” Danny shrugs, not bothering to hide his yawn. “Next session will be the last unless he wants further detailing.”
“I think it’s your best work yet.” Simon compliments, wrapping an arm around his waist. “I mean it.”
“Thanks Si.” Danny smiles tiredly, bumping his forehead to his. “C’mon. Dying to go upstairs and sprawl on the couch with a beer.”
*~*
He hopes like last time Markus will appear for breakfast, but it’s not to be. He tries not to get his hopes up, tries not to look too eager every time the door opens. Markus doesn’t stop by for over two weeks, in fact, and Simon tries not to feel despondent as the days go by without his presence.
The mural for Bellini Paints at Greektown is announced as complete on social media, and they go to see it during lunch on a sunny Tuesday. It’s a beautiful piece, taking up an entire wall at the entrance to the arcade where Bellini is housed. Sweeps of colour streak across the brickwork in graceful arcs, coming together to form a pair of hands holding a palette and paintbrush; a work of art about a work of art in progress. Simon thinks it’s stunning, and the sheer scale of it is enough to leave him awestruck. He takes a photo and sets it as his background, so he can admire the colours whenever he wants.
When Markus arrives for his final session, he brings a large canvas with him. It’s covered with a sheet, and tied carefully with twine to secure it.
“Hey, Simon.” His smile has an apology in it. “Sorry I haven’t dropped by recently. It’s been pretty crazy trying to finish the mural and I had this other project on the side.”
“We went to see the Bellini mural yesterday, it’s stunning.” Simon finds himself smiling wistfully. “The colours are just so vibrant, it suits the store perfectly.”
“Thanks, I’m pretty proud of it.” He holds out the canvas. “This is for you.”
“...For...me?” Simon gawks at him, unmoving. Markus Manfred is handing him a canvas. Markus Manfred. The artist leans in.
“That means you have to take it from my hands, Simon.” He ‘whispers’ and Simon scrambles to take the canvas, laying it down ever so carefully on one of the tables so he can unwrap it. It’s a painting of Jericho, of his family; there’s Danny, there’s Josh, there’s North and yes, even him. It’s a beautiful flurry of colours and exaggerated brushstrokes, and they’re crowded around a table eating tea cake and drinking coffee, with sketchbooks laid around.
“When I first came here, it was like coming home.” Markus lays his hand over Simon’s and it’s only belatedly that he realises he’s shaking. “I felt welcomed, and I felt at peace. I felt like I’ve always been here. That’s the magic of this place, Simon. That’s your magic.”
“Markus I- this is too generous, I couldn’t possibly-!”
“You can. I painted this for you.” Markus moves to hold his other hand too, coaxing him to face him. “Because you are the heart of this place. You may not have had a choice to break through your red wall, but you persevered. You are so much stronger than you think, Simon.”
The tears come even though he gave them no permission to, and Markus gently draws him into a comforting embrace. Over the years he’s only ever had Danny, and more recently Josh and North. There was never any time to dwell on the hurt, there was and is only the path forward; if he stopped for even a moment to think back on what he survived it would swallow him up. To have Markus affirm his strength, to have him acknowledge the pain and his progression is far too much for him to process.
“Did you make my brother cry?!” Danny demands, appearing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. “What the fuck did you say to him?!”
“Danny, look.” Simon wipes his eyes clumsily, pulling back a little in Markus’ arms so he can point at the painting on the table. “Markus painted this for us.”
“...You what?” Danny’s brows nearly disappear into his hairline as he spots the canvas. “Is this- are you for real?”
“I mean, well, yeah. It’s real and I made it.” Markus grins sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to make your brother cry though.”
“...Holyshit. Uh. Wow. Thanks?”
“It’s 3pm, shall we get started on my session?” Markus seeks his eyes. “Is that alright, Simon?”
“Oh! Yes, of course! Sorry I’ll um- I’ll cover this up and take it upstairs so it’ll be safe.”
He has to hide upstairs for a good fifteen minutes just to make sense of what just happened. He’s holding an original Manfred in his hands, and gifted to him no less. It’s not just a pretty painting, it’s a work of art of his family, making it absolutely precious and priceless. He resists the urge to hug the canvas to his chest, instead laying it on the coffee table before returning downstairs to the parlour.
Danny’s already started, headphones on and brows creased in concentration by the time Simon brings in a tray of coffees and some black tea and honey cupcakes. Markus offers him a slightly pained smile, and Simon immediately sits beside him and holds his hand.
“Would you” Markus flicks his eyes over to make sure Danny isn’t paying attention “like to go to dinner with me on Friday?”
“...I’m sorry?”
“Oh, does Friday not work for you? Wait, the parlour’s open longer on Friday nights, sorry.” Markus nods in understanding. “How about Saturday?”
“No I- I’m- the- Friday is- I mean, you’re...asking me to dinner?” Simon stammers, feeling his cheeks flush as Markus strokes his thumb over the back of his hand.
“I’m certainly not asking Daniel.” He cocks a brow, grin mischievous as Simon feels his cheeks grow hotter.
“Um Friday is fine. I’d love to.” He frowns. “I can’t believe you’re asking me out to dinner while my brother holds a very sharp object against your skin.”
“He already knows. He threatened to stab me if I ever broke your heart.” Markus admits, and Simon realises that’s what Danny must’ve said to him last time right before he left. “Which is fair, really. If I ever broke your heart I’d deserve that. But I’ll do my best to look after it very well, I promise.”
“Then I’ll see you on Friday.” Simon finds himself unable to stop smiling. Markus brings their clasped hands to his lips, kissing Simon’s knuckles.
“I’m really looking forward to- ow!” Markus yelps as Danny applies just a little more force than necessary.
“Don’t flirt with my brother until I’m done.” Danny orders, voice a little too loud to compensate for the music blaring in his headphones. He fixes Markus with a stern glare, and Markus nods obediently. “Good. Now stay still.”
*~*
The finished piece is spectacular, truly Danny’s best work. The lines are crisp, the colours are vibrant, and it’s really as if the shards are exploding outwards from the ghostly outlined blue triangle. It’s taken just over a month to heal properly, with luckily only minimal scabbing.
Simon admires the work, watching it come alive with each inhale and exhale, with each rise of fall of Markus’ broad, toned chest; a boy breaking out of his father’s shadow to forge his own path as a man of his own making. He traces the triangle carefully with his finger, touch featherlight. Markus hums, a small sound in the back of his throat as his lips curve upward in a lazy smile.
“Tickles.” He mumbles, capturing Simon’s hand and bringing it to his lips so he can press kisses to his fingers. Opening his mismatched eyes, he blinks at Simon sleepily before rolling over and pulling him flush against his body. They’re delightfully, sinfully bare beneath the covers, legs tangled, and it’s somehow still almost downright scandalous to Simon every time it happens. “Hey gorgeous.”
“Good morning, my love.” Simon greets in return shyly, and Markus smiles at those words, pressing their mouths together one, twice, thrice insistently. It’s a hungry, desperate beast, this thing called love; selfish and needy and somehow never sated but that seems to suit them just fine. They’ll drink each other in and drown wholly, completely, in the wonderful chaos; two halves of one whole.
This is the freedom they found, this is the freedom they earned, and the red wall lies in shards at their feet.
*~*~*
(Markus’ tattoo is similar to this, something like the moment when androids deviate in the game)
“When we’re not doing anything, I introduce Angela to movies. Human movies, that is. Even more specifically, animated Disney movies. The good, underrated ones especially, but anything goes. She likes Sinbad the most so far. I’m thinking about Road to El Dorado, next.”
“And personally, a little secret of mine? After showing them to her she’s been a lot more different from when I first met her. More compassionate. More… human. Well, a lot changed since I first met her, but the movies definitely help a lot.”
“She sang Friends on the other side yesterday but you didn’t hear it from me.”
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