by Max Hudson
“I'm sorry because I... I act like I don't have emotions, but I very clearly do, you know?”
“I could tell.”
Mark snorted. “And I act like it's the end of the world whenever they finally come up because I don't know how to handle them. That's why I shove them down.”
“If I can say so, Mark, that's really unhealthy.”
“I know it's unhealthy. I just never really had much of an outlet for them except for...” Mark gestured up toward his apartment. “My art.”
“I get that. I really do.”
“And when people show me affection—even the slightest bit of interest—I usually run away. I didn't run away from you. That scared the hell out of me.”
Tristan took a shaky step toward Mark. “If it's any consolation, I'm scared, too. I'm afraid at how fast I became attached to you. But I always follow my gut and my gut was pointing directly at you.”
“That's kind of how I felt. I saw you and I just...ugh...fireworks went off and everything made sense. I suddenly had a muse.”
Tristan smiled weakly. “I became your muse?”
“Kind of. I mean... I spend so much time ignoring everything in favor of the void that I don't... I don't know how to handle people when they're nice.”
“I'm really glad you're being honest with me. I wish you had done it before all this exploded.”
“I wish I had, too.” Mark sniffled. “And I'm still scared, Tristan. I just need you to know that.”
“I'm okay with that. I'm sorry I didn't explain my best friend to you when you were still in my apartment. I should have.”
“No, that's not your fault. I got paranoid out of fear.”
Tristan shrugged. “Human emotions are weird.”
“Better off being a demon.”
Tristan laughed and covered his smile, muffling his giggles with his hand. He extended the bouquet again. “So... can we start back a little slow?”
“Actually...” Mark accepted the oddball bouquet and lovingly plucked at the leaves surrounding the thorns, gently dropping them to the ground. “I don't want to ignore my feelings this time.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean... I think I really have love for you.”
Tristan smiled. “Yeah?”
Mark nodded and stepped toward Tristan, allowing the bouquet to fall to his side. He reached out and stroked Tristan's cheek just as Tristan's watch beeped.
Tristan held up his wrist. “Well, would you look at that.”
“What?”
“It's Valentine's Day.”
Chapter Sixteen
Tristan reached out to touch Mark's waist, being sure to go slow. He leaned in gently and nuzzled Mark's cheek with his nose as his other hand slithered around Mark's side.
“I'm choosing this,” he whispered. “I'm choosing you.”
Mark shivered and sighed. “I feel bad for what happened.”
“Everybody needs a cool origin story. Ours just happens to be a little dramatic.”
“You're so poetic.”
Tristan chuckled. “I try.”
He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of acrylic and patchouli, practically shuddering when the smell settled into his system. He hummed contentedly.
“What?” Mark asked.
“Your scent...I just love it.”
“It's not much. It just smells like my apartment.”
“It smells like you.”
Mark whimpered faintly as he tucked his nose into Tristan's shoulder, allowing Tristan to wrap him in a hug. Tristan felt him shudder and started pulling him toward the door, leaving behind a trail of green leaves and stems. The petals were still all over the staircase. Tristan made a note to clean those up eventually.
When Tristan got Mark upstairs, he opened the door and led him inside where he laid Mark on the bed and rubbed his shoulders. He ran his fingers over Mark's tense muscles and did his best to get Mark relaxed.
“I know this doesn't instantly fix anything,” he expressed. “But I hope it's a good start.”
“What?”
Tristan leaned down and took Mark's lips, causing Mark to sigh. He crawled over Mark's body and straddled his lap, positioning his hands on his shoulders. He whimpered as he kissed Mark, feeling a great tide of relief washing over his body as Mark melted under his touch.
When he pulled away, he found Mark smiling. “Well, that's something.”
“Is it?”
“Oh yes.”
Tristan grinned. “Is it a good something?”
Mark hummed. He glanced lazily at Tristan, almost drunkenly, and reached up to caress his face. His fingers trailed along Tristan's jaw and down his neck, reminding Tristan of their second intimate encounter. Tristan felt his pants tighten. Blushing, he sat up to fix them.
“Sorry, was that me?” Mark inquired mischievously.
“Might have been.”
“Well, I don't mind taking credit for it.”
“It's just...my natural reaction to you.”
Mark chuckled. “I'm glad. Can you hold me?”
“I'd absolutely love to.”
As Tristan settled behind Mark, he wrapped an arm around Mark's waist and snuggled in close. He rested his chin on Mark's neck.
“I'm trying to communicate more,” Mark whispered.
“I think you did great, asking for cuddles.”
“I'm really not used to this.”
“It's okay. One day at a time.”
Mark chuckled quietly. “How are you so understanding?”
“Well, I've had plenty of practice.”
“Did you have siblings growing up?”
“No, I just had a great best friend to talk to all the time.”
“I'd love to meet him someday.”
Tristan perked up. “Really? I thought you were jealous of Derrick.”
“Oh, that... Well, I think I'm getting over it.”
“I'm a monogamous creature, so you have nothing to worry about.”
Mark snuggled in closer. “I believe you.”
Beyond the bed, a series of sounds erupted: the soft whirring of the fridge, the clink of the ice maker dropping fresh ice, the click of the air switching off, and the hum of white noise coming from a speaker.
Tristan perked up from his position on the bed. “Were you listening to music?”
“Yeah, a little bit.”
“Was it, metal music?”
Mark laughed. “Actually, it was eighties pop.”
“No kidding.”
“I have a whole collection of tapes over there if you want to pick one out. Maybe we can even dance.”
“I think in honor of V-Day, I would love to.”
Mark covered his face. “Oh...God.”
“Still not a fan of our romantic holiday?”
“Not yet. Give it time.”
Tristan chuckled as he rose from the bed and walked to the stereo. As he looked through Mark's collection of music on cassette, he heard the mattress squeak and feet scrambling. He turned to find Mark had disappeared.
Frowning, he took a few steps forward. “Mark?”
Within seconds, Mark reappeared from the tiny hall with a painting in his hand that was faced away from Tristan. He held it up and smiled nervously. “I, uh...I did this for you.”
“For me?” Tristan grinned as he approached. “You didn't have to...”
Mark flipped it around and revealed an anatomically correct heart with string sewn in the center. The details were impeccable, captivating Tristan as soon as he laid eyes on it.
When he reached out to touch the canvas, he noticed it was still wet. “Did you just do this?”
“Yes—Today.”
“It's beautiful.”
“I hadn't really intended to give it to you, but... I don't know. The moment struck me. Here it is.”
“Oh, Mark...”
“I know. It's so macabre, but I was channeling how I was feeling. It was like... It was like I was finding out who I
was again,” Mark explained. “I don't know why it came to me like this. I don't think it's bad. I mean, do you think it's bad?”
“It's far from bad.”
“I'm sorry.”
Tristan laughed. “Don't be sorry. I love it. You made it with me in mind and that means I love it.”
“I'm glad.”
While Tristan looked over the painting, he felt a warm smile cross his lips. It was a content smile, one that was happy to exist just for the sake of existing. He felt his heart flutter as he accepted the painting, wet paint and all.
“You might want to wait before you take it home,” Mark suggested.
“Why is that?”
“Well, it does need to dry first.”
“Oh—right.” Tristan laughed. “I could have guessed that.”
“So... music?”
Tristan nodded. “Anything you want. I'm not picky.”
“You sure about that?”
Tristan reconsidered with a grin. “Okay, how about something sweet and romantic?”
“Something sweet and romantic—coming right up.”
While Mark went about picking music, Tristan stared at the painting. He followed the fresh brush strokes up and down the canvas, looking along the paths that Mark had carved. There were great shades of teal and blue circulating the heart, appearing to be a wild morning sky waiting to burst with energy. The entire painting made Tristan feel enamored and as though his heart would erupt at the seams.
He turned to look at Mark, still wearing his grin, still clutching his painting, and unable to do anything except stare. He could have stared for hours. Watching Mark in his natural habitat was beautiful, almost sensual, and he didn't want it to end.
He didn't want any of this to end.
Chapter Seventeen
It could have been a drab day for Mark as was typical, but it didn't seem that way when he glanced out the window and admired the beauty of the world beyond. It seemed brighter outside and he felt lighter than ever, having been relieved of the heavy weight he had been carrying for years.
“It's funny,” he said to Tristan over the phone. “I never thought I would actually feel happy to wake up on a Monday.”
“You? Happy? No way.”
Mark giggled. “I know, right? It's just so hard to believe.”
“I still can't believe Clive fired you.”
He held his phone tighter to his ear and shrugged. “I mean, I had it coming. Clive was tired of my shit.”
“I just hate that it happened at all. I wish there was a better solution to the situation.”
“If you had known me before, you would understand. I was routinely late, I never turned in anything on time, and I even showed up to work a few times drunk.”
Tristan laughed. “You're quite a handful, aren't you?”
“In more ways than one.”
“Stop it.”
“I can, if you want.”
Tristan chuckled. “I'd rather you not.”
“So, how's New Orleans? Have you seen any ghosts yet?”
“Not yet. I'm trying to settle into my hotel room before I have to get outside and explore. One of the artists Clive wants me to find—Blue Raymond Lou—is apparently really hard to find.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, it's rumored that he hides in a hut near the edge of the swamp where nobody really goes. It should be fun locating him without a map.”
Mark laughed. “All for the sake of reporting news.”
“You know I love to dig deep.”
“I know you do.”
“Once I find him, everyone else should be easy to locate. Marie Lafleur and Sawyer Mills both live in town. Maybe I'll find some other good artists lingering in the bars.”
“I mean, what have we learned about great artists?”
“They love to drink.”
“That's right.”
Tristan sighed. “Ugh...I miss you already.”
“You've only been gone for a whole day. How do you miss me already? Besides, we spent like two weeks together before this trip.”
“I know and I prepared mentally for it, but I can't help myself. I get attached easily.”
“I'm starting to learn that I do, too.”
“I'm glad to hear that you're learning about yourself. It's so different from when I met you.”
Mark smiled. “Well, change doesn't happen overnight. That book you gave me on exploring emotions has been a huge eye-opener.”
“Well, good. That's what it's there for. How's the job hunt going?”
“Eh... I mean, I keep applying to newspapers in town, but I think they caught wind of my reputation. I can't imagine Clive is going to give me a very good review. I might have to start looking outside of town.”
“I suppose you can blame yourself for that one.”
“I suppose I can.”
“No matter. I'm more than positive you'll get something soon. I can feel it in the air. It's like this pulsing energy all around us.”
Mark tittered. “That's called a haunted hotel, babe.”
“Oh, wow. You're just full of jokes today.”
“I can't help it. You're just bringing out the best in me.”
“I can't take all the credit. You're the one who saw the opportunity to change and took it.”
Smiling, Mark sat down in his desk chair and fingered the handle, tracing the delicate details in the metal. “Yeah, I guess I did. But you helped me see it. I'm forever grateful for that.”
“If you give me too much credit, it might go to my head.”
“Oh, well, in that case, I'll have to thank the dark lord for his unearthly services these past few weeks.”
“There you go. Give credit where credit is due.”
“So, how's Derrick doing? Did they get the bakery going yet?”
Tristan sighed. “No, they're still going through loan stuff. I honestly can't imagine the stress those two are going through right now.”
“Yeah, I don't envy all that.”
“I think they want us to visit soon when things settle down.”
“Yeah, I'd really like that.”
“We can set aside a weekend whenever I get back.”
“I have to get a job first.”
“Of course.”
Mark bit his lower lip and let his head rest back, staring up at the ceiling. “Okay, I'm starting to miss you, too.”
“See? We're just irresistible.”
“I can't imagine why. It's not like we have that much in common.”
“You mean other than our love for art? No, I'm pretty sure our personalities are polar opposites.”
“Opposites attract, right? I'm pretty sure that's a scientific fact.”
Tristan guffawed. “Well, then, that settles it. We were absolutely meant to be with each other.”
“It's based on science. Everyone should hear about this.”
“I'll have to type up an official report and get our peers to review it. We wouldn't want to overlook any significant evidence to the contrary.”
“That would be terrible—a true blow to our honorable reputations.”
“Well, yours is already ruined so...”
Mark gasped dramatically. “How dare you!”
“My apologies—how could I ever make it up to you?”
Mark hummed while stroking his freshly-shaved chin. “How about a nice trinket for me to keep up on my shelf?”
“Anything specific? Do you want a candle or a doll?”
“Whatever you think I would like.”
“You got it, babe.”
Mark smiled wide. “You know, I've been thinking about applying to that comic company up the road.”
“Yeah? What's it called again?”
“Green Legend Comics—they've published a lot of local people. I could potentially get on board as a cartoon panelist.”
“That's an excellent idea, Mark. I think you should go for that one.”
“Yeah?”
; “Yes, absolutely. I mean, if your rep is completely damaged with newspapers, try something new. Take a risk.”
Mark sat up from his chair and glanced around his studio apartment, observing its cleanliness. “Take a risk—that's certainly different for me.”
“It couldn't hurt. Soon, you'll break all your regular habits.”
“Hopefully not my painting habit.”
“Oh no—you have to keep that one. It's a requirement for dating me.”
“Is it, now?”
Tristan giggled. “All right, I have to get going soon. I need to get changed and start asking the locals about Blue Raymond.”
“I wish you didn't have to get off the phone.”
“Maybe we can video chat later. That might put me at ease, too.”
“We can set up dinner.”
Tristan whistled. “Somebody is feeling romantic.”
“Yeah, why not? We can both light candles and make something special.”
“You know, that sounds really gross, but I'm digging it.”
“Good because it's happening.”
Tristan laughed. “Okay, babe. I'll talk to you soon, all right?”
“All right, I'll text you.”
“Sounds great. And hey...”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Mark paused as his vision went blurry from staring at the blinds. “Did you mean to say that?”
“Yes, I did—I do mean that.”
Smiling warmly, Mark sighed contentedly. His chest expanded wider than he had ever felt, accommodating for how great his heart was growing. The warmth spread out from his heart and pumped over every inch of his body, traveling through his blood stream to get to each corner of his form. He was positively on fire, utterly alarmed, and completely delighted.
He sniffled before replying, “I love you, too.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I'm great... I'm just great.”
“Keep your chin up today. You'll find a job.”
Mark grinned. “Thanks, babe.”
Click.
When he set down his phone, he leaned against his hand and sniffled again, biting back the hot stream of tears that threatened to fall. He could have felt lonely in this moment without Tristan on the phone, but he didn't. That simple phrase was enough to ignite his heart and keep him comfortable until later when they could talk again.
He felt secure and safe—everything in his apartment was tidied up, his clothes were clean, and he had the strength to get up and grab his laptop to job hunt again. As he opened a fresh browser and typed in the name of the comic company, he caught his reflection in the computer screen. For once, he wasn't wearing that awful scowl he usually wore whenever he was concentrating.
