[It’s a bit like trying to continually pick up pieces that keep slipping through his arms; the attempt to swallow back the constriction in his throat, the willful effort to staunch the tears as if they were the consequence of an open wound, eyes kept in any direction but Connor’s. Hard to do, when the shape of his emotions were an amalgam at best, no singular one to meet him at the surface, all of them buoying up in synchronization, demanding his attention. It’ll take a moment, just a moment, to pressurize it all back down again, to turn it into something more manageable, and Markus raises his hand once more to brush against the corner of his eyes—
But there’s the warmth of pressure on his arm, Connor’s touch welling up shared sentiment once more, a bridge connecting them and letting everything flow through. Even if he could manage words, he’s not sure he’s in possession of them. Not as the other android’s hand moves to his shoulder and draws him close, another embrace that feels different than the last one; framed in the conveyance of intimacy. An island, indeed, with only the two of them stranded upon its shore.
He wonders if it’s the bond that entwines Connor’s words with his thoughts. Markus, wondering if Carl would’ve been proud, and his friend confirming his own sentiment in turn. A call and response. Like Connor’s dipped his fingers into his chest and plucked at a string that resounds brilliantly, wonderfully, bittersweet.
Any lingering restraint he possessed is banished in that exact moment. Markus leans into him, a hand coming up to grip at the back of the other’s shoulder. With everything falling away, this one connection is his only anchoring point, and shuddering breaths become paroxysms become tears become the final, jarring release of letting himself cry.
And so he does.
The moments that pass afterwards wax and wane, time just a strange weft in the hospital room, until something coherent returns, and he feels like he can reel in words again. His voice is strained with fresh, exhausted relief.]
Everything we’ve worked for, everything we will achieve— I know that you’ll be there for all of it. [Shoulders shiver in a huff of air, tired humor.] If you’re here with me like this, then surely you will be.
[He knows he can rely on him. He didn’t need affirmation, but now he knows it tenfold.]
Thank you for telling me, and just— Just thank you, Connor.
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But there’s the warmth of pressure on his arm, Connor’s touch welling up shared sentiment once more, a bridge connecting them and letting everything flow through. Even if he could manage words, he’s not sure he’s in possession of them. Not as the other android’s hand moves to his shoulder and draws him close, another embrace that feels different than the last one; framed in the conveyance of intimacy. An island, indeed, with only the two of them stranded upon its shore.
He wonders if it’s the bond that entwines Connor’s words with his thoughts. Markus, wondering if Carl would’ve been proud, and his friend confirming his own sentiment in turn. A call and response. Like Connor’s dipped his fingers into his chest and plucked at a string that resounds brilliantly, wonderfully, bittersweet.
Any lingering restraint he possessed is banished in that exact moment. Markus leans into him, a hand coming up to grip at the back of the other’s shoulder. With everything falling away, this one connection is his only anchoring point, and shuddering breaths become paroxysms become tears become the final, jarring release of letting himself cry.
And so he does.
The moments that pass afterwards wax and wane, time just a strange weft in the hospital room, until something coherent returns, and he feels like he can reel in words again. His voice is strained with fresh, exhausted relief.]
Everything we’ve worked for, everything we will achieve— I know that you’ll be there for all of it. [Shoulders shiver in a huff of air, tired humor.] If you’re here with me like this, then surely you will be.
[He knows he can rely on him. He didn’t need affirmation, but now he knows it tenfold.]
Thank you for telling me, and just— Just thank you, Connor.