[Gentle space is placed between them as Connor draws back, and Markus takes comfort in the look of the other. More color in his features, healthier and haler, a little more light in brown eyes. He feels his own wash of relief, glad to be the reason for it — wanting nothing more than to be the reason for it, his very existence in this moment only to make Connor to feel better, more grounded, no longer afraid of pressing forward with each day that passes.
All of it for Connor’s benefit, spoken to softly embolden him. And yet when his hands are drawn up by the other, when lips brush against his knuckles in the barest whisper of a thing, he thinks to himself of how fortunate he is to have him; someone so devoted, someone who manages to make Markus’ heart stutter in his chest when a million other things would never do the trick.
This deeply growing affection, given a jolt after Connor’s disappearance... he wonders if he can continue to live up to deserving it.]
Then it’s a two-way street. [Fingers tighten warmly against Connor’s own, and Markus leans forward again, just long enough to grant him a barely-there kiss across his brow. He's unable to fight the curl of a smile.]
You and I always finding each other, eventually, no matter what happens. Not too steep of a promise to make.
[Not for the strongest hearts, nor the most willful spirits.]
("there's always a chance for unlikely events to take place."
his own words make him sink further against markus, getting nearer to the warm kiss against his forehead. how can he enjoy something this comforting when the omissions hang over his head like a spectre waiting to steal these feelings away. to connor owed his leader then and he owes him now, for endangering the lives of hundreds — thousands — of their people, all to satisfy a desperate craving for cyberlife's validation. to be successful in his endeavours, when he failed so many times before.
fingers grasp at markus', guiding them to the shirt over his chest, applying gentle pressure to the backs of them. it keeps the powerful touch there, fills him with warmth, makes his breaths waver out of his lungs. how poignant those loving words are, how brave they make him feel — but their link be damned. he has to hide the worry and the hesitations from his new partner, shroud the bad emotions with a clever activation of his ability.
its glow is obscured entirely beneath their palms.)
I promise.
(as though it's the bond and only the bond casting blue beneath the angles and planes of soft expressions, noses brushing with a decisive narrowing of already negligible space. connor thanks him, apologizes to him, and pleads to him with a ghosting of lips over his own, the trailing press fleeting compared to their overt display at the ball. the moment it's there it's gone.)
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All of it for Connor’s benefit, spoken to softly embolden him. And yet when his hands are drawn up by the other, when lips brush against his knuckles in the barest whisper of a thing, he thinks to himself of how fortunate he is to have him; someone so devoted, someone who manages to make Markus’ heart stutter in his chest when a million other things would never do the trick.
This deeply growing affection, given a jolt after Connor’s disappearance... he wonders if he can continue to live up to deserving it.]
Then it’s a two-way street. [Fingers tighten warmly against Connor’s own, and Markus leans forward again, just long enough to grant him a barely-there kiss across his brow. He's unable to fight the curl of a smile.]
You and I always finding each other, eventually, no matter what happens. Not too steep of a promise to make.
[Not for the strongest hearts, nor the most willful spirits.]
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his own words make him sink further against markus, getting nearer to the warm kiss against his forehead. how can he enjoy something this comforting when the omissions hang over his head like a spectre waiting to steal these feelings away. to connor owed his leader then and he owes him now, for endangering the lives of hundreds — thousands — of their people, all to satisfy a desperate craving for cyberlife's validation. to be successful in his endeavours, when he failed so many times before.
fingers grasp at markus', guiding them to the shirt over his chest, applying gentle pressure to the backs of them. it keeps the powerful touch there, fills him with warmth, makes his breaths waver out of his lungs. how poignant those loving words are, how brave they make him feel — but their link be damned. he has to hide the worry and the hesitations from his new partner, shroud the bad emotions with a clever activation of his ability.
its glow is obscured entirely beneath their palms.)
I promise.
(as though it's the bond and only the bond casting blue beneath the angles and planes of soft expressions, noses brushing with a decisive narrowing of already negligible space. connor thanks him, apologizes to him, and pleads to him with a ghosting of lips over his own, the trailing press fleeting compared to their overt display at the ball. the moment it's there it's gone.)
No matter what happens.