#or outside

More and more often Vincent and Mary spent time together alone, away from the house, away from Ambrose. Out to the meadows he would follow her to sit and sketch her while she gathered herbs or danced, he watched her play with Lester in the stream though he himself would never join them, and more and more he wondered what might happen if he were to leave Ambrose altogether with her. He couldn’t, of course he couldn’t. His mother was here, her museum was here, all of her work, his work. But still, he thought about it. There were plenty of abandoned houses around Ambrose where it’s residents had once lived, perhaps he and Mary could move into one of them together, away from Bo. Perhaps..

When they finally made it home from an evening of gallivanting together with Lester Bo was already drunk and already furious. 

“How come you never invite me along anywhere?” Bo asked the minute they were through the door. Vincent held Mary’s hand tightly and looked to her for answers, always tongue-tied when it came to Bo. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to.” Mary said. 

“You think I don’t like.. Gettin’ out and..” he trailed off. He couldn’t contain his anger long enough to even finish his sentence. He grabbed her shoulders roughly and forced her away from Vincent. 

“Why do you love him and not me? Is it just cuz you pity him? Why does everyone fuckin’ everyone pity Vincent, where’s my fuckin’ sympathy huh?” he screamed in her face. Vincent shuffled about uncomfortably, wanting so badly to do anything to help but feeling paralyzed. 

“You’re just like mama always dotin’ on him always tellin’ him what a damn good boy he is, hell you even treat Lester like he’s somethin’ special but look at me with so much fuckin’ disdain you whore.” he shouted, punching her in the face. Vincent yelped louder than she did, but Bo caught her before she could fall over. 

“I’m so sorry Mary I’m so sorry.” he said, his voice trembling. Mary could barely see him, her vision was foggy, warm blood trickling out of her nose and into her mouth. She tried to speak, sputtering weakly and Bo pulled her to his chest, hugging her the way Vincent always did, shaking violently and repeating garbled apologies. Mary reached up and hugged him back to his surprise, rubbing his back the way she did for Vincent. 

“Now, calm right down.” she said and Bo nodded, sinking to his knees and hugging her around her waist, crying like a child. She took his hands, pulling them off of her and before he could whine in protest she leaned down and kissed the scars on his wrists. Bo looked up at her the way Vincent did, the way Lester did, as if she were their mother risen from the grave, as if she were Madonna come down from heaven to absolve his sins. As he buried his head back into her skirts to sob Vincent hugged her from behind, sobbing into her shoulder. With one hand she reached down to pet Bo’s hair softly, with the other she reached up to stroke Vincent’s, and as both of them cried she began to sing.