(it feels similar to a moment they shared before, when thousands of androids took to the streets from the warehouses of cyberlife tower and marched on the battle at the heart of the city. connor brought them to markus under the spotlights of helicopters, sniper scopes, and hostile human stares, slowing to a halt before him to give him praise and receive it in turn.
the moment he was invited to stand by his side. the moment he felt belonging for the first time.
connor owes him the truth and, more than that, his shoulder. no one else out here in this lost, backwards world knows how much markus had to sacrifice but him. so this hospital room is their private island, hidden away from a reality they're determined to reject. and there they sit together until the tide goes out.
markus cries, but connor doesn't see weakness in it. on the contrary, it may take a strong man to hold the hopes of thousands on his shoulders but a stronger man can allow himself admit that he needs help carrying it all. they, as a collective, gave markus this responsibility, so blinded by the fact that someone was finally there to save them that none stopped to think of it from another perspective. they ignored how exhausting it must be to stay unwaveringly resolute before fearful, expectant masses, to act as a mouthpiece for a higher purpose, listeners heeding his every sure word only to leave him alone to doubt in private.
no more.
not when it's within his power to reach for him, knowing their positions on each other's survival coincides. if they work side by side to take the brunt of this, they'll be twice as prepared for whatever future they walk towards. together.
connor's hand settles on markus' arm, warm, tethered to the ekg providing them with a quiet beep that stays consistent with the healthy beat of his heart.) You don't have anything to apologize for, Markus. This is what you've been striving for, I just hope that you can rely on me to help you get there again. And I will, every time. (he squeezes and it spreads to his shoulder.
there's no one they have to impress, even if a very large part of him remains struck by the show of emotion he'd rather stoke than pull away from. it's clear to him then that he needs this, to clear the congestion, and connor's quick to draw him closer. another tight hug, protecting the display with a severe look at the door past markus' shoulder and the sheer curtain that keeps them in an untouchable bubble.
no one will ruin this for them.)
I'm... proud. To be here, to be alive. To call you my friend.
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the moment he was invited to stand by his side. the moment he felt belonging for the first time.
connor owes him the truth and, more than that, his shoulder. no one else out here in this lost, backwards world knows how much markus had to sacrifice but him. so this hospital room is their private island, hidden away from a reality they're determined to reject. and there they sit together until the tide goes out.
markus cries, but connor doesn't see weakness in it. on the contrary, it may take a strong man to hold the hopes of thousands on his shoulders but a stronger man can allow himself admit that he needs help carrying it all. they, as a collective, gave markus this responsibility, so blinded by the fact that someone was finally there to save them that none stopped to think of it from another perspective. they ignored how exhausting it must be to stay unwaveringly resolute before fearful, expectant masses, to act as a mouthpiece for a higher purpose, listeners heeding his every sure word only to leave him alone to doubt in private.
no more.
not when it's within his power to reach for him, knowing their positions on each other's survival coincides. if they work side by side to take the brunt of this, they'll be twice as prepared for whatever future they walk towards. together.
connor's hand settles on markus' arm, warm, tethered to the ekg providing them with a quiet beep that stays consistent with the healthy beat of his heart.) You don't have anything to apologize for, Markus. This is what you've been striving for, I just hope that you can rely on me to help you get there again. And I will, every time. (he squeezes and it spreads to his shoulder.
there's no one they have to impress, even if a very large part of him remains struck by the show of emotion he'd rather stoke than pull away from. it's clear to him then that he needs this, to clear the congestion, and connor's quick to draw him closer. another tight hug, protecting the display with a severe look at the door past markus' shoulder and the sheer curtain that keeps them in an untouchable bubble.
no one will ruin this for them.)
I'm... proud. To be here, to be alive. To call you my friend.