[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.
(connor holds fast to markus and lets him grasp at him, breathe through it, cry. it's a weight both of them needed to relieve themselves of, pent-up frustrations giving them more to worry about than each other. no one can live like that, repressing everything, shoving it down for "another time" when that time, too, will be added in with the rest.
the painkillers make his head cloudy with appreciation, whatever protest his collarbone makes at the tight hug lost to the desire to keep markus close. so it's no fault of his own when the fingers of his free hand tighten and his face presses into a broad shoulder, head bowed, staring unseeingly at the far wall.
until markus can speak again.
he has to bite back another painful swell of emotion — "i know that you'll be there for all of it" — blinking to keep his eyes dry.)
You're... you're welcome. I'm just happy to be a part of this, so, if I could, I'd like to remain by your side for as long as I'm able to.
(a somewhat awkward pat at his back is connor's idea of something comforting, his palm eventually flattening between markus' shoulder blades.)
[It is an awkward gesture, isn’t it? And yet it’s so very Connor, and Markus can feel nothing but gratitude welling up in him, spilling along the edges.] I’m all right.
[—he echoes, and with tension having long crested, Markus feels like he can finally pull back and look at his friend with a tired sort of relief spread across his features. Bruised, sporting a swollen lip, and now wet around the eyes, he’s nearly certain that he doesn’t cut the most flattering portrait of himself.
Not that any of it seems to matter in this moment.]
It’s hard to describe how I feel. It’s news that’s lifted a weight on one side, and added to another. I still can’t afford complacency, but if anything else, this is just more motivation to keep pushing forward.
[Knowing that success can and will exist. Frightening and exhilarating. Hope proven to not be in vain.
His mouth tilts into an earnest smile, given to Connor freely, despite it all.]
(not the most flattering portrait, but a confident one that's leaving him a little breathless. he's so relieved, mirroring the smile with an uneven one that creases the lid of a mottled eye. pain doesn't exist for him now, connor's sure he's healed — he has to sit back to take the whole moment in and marvel.
his head weighs to one side, cushioning itself on the highest of the three separate pillows propping up his back and neck.)
You always knew it was possible and, despite your doubts, knew we'd rise up. Now it's a reality in at least one iteration of our futures.
[He could lean away, pressing his shoulders into the back of the chair again. He feels oddly relaxed enough to do it; but Markus instead keeps forward, leaning close, one hand resting idly on Connor’s bedside.
A chance to celebrate. Even if Markus hasn’t quite earned that yet, he’d not deny Connor of the opportunity — even if they are dimensions or worlds away. They need it. It’d be good for the both of them.]
I think that, given how difficult our respective weeks have been, we could use it.
(after everything else this comes easily to him, too high on painkillers to feel apprehensive and too proud of how naturally they repaired their friendship after so much went so wrong. if markus doesn't want to, he will say no. if markus does, then they'll be able to take this conversation somewhere else.
build on it, get to know more about one another's lives and bond over the mistakes they made.
connor's lips part, a moment's delay before he manages to piece together the words to communicate what he wants in his head.)
We could finish our dinner. Somewhere nicer, this time.
[Markus can see the creeping haze of medication start to overtake Connor, the same way a quiet fog slinks in. He’s glad for it. The other android needs the rest, needs to put this day behind him through a veil of eventual sleep and recovery.
So he’s not exactly expecting the most coherent reply as the syllables roll off of the other’s tongue. Yet Connor keeps speaking, formulating what it is he wants to do, and Markus finds that’s not quite what he expected to hear.
A dinner. A nice dinner. Does he know what that sounds like? Or is he too high on painkillers to even consider implication or intent or anything more than just two friends celebrating a promised future? Should he ask—]
Yes. I’d like that. [—but the words escape him before they can be pinned down, surprising even him. He pauses briefly, inexplicably, then continues.]
Once you’ve recovered a little, we can go wherever you like.
(markus' affirmation makes him reach up to fix a tie that isn't there, fingers bumping the collar of his hospital gown.)
You would? (that's not at all what he wanted to ask, but there's a certain lag to him now that's making the process of thinking difficult and he's been derailed by his absentee outfit — maybe he's grown too accustomed to that lived-in thing.) Hearing you say that, I think I'd prefer to go now.
(said as he tries to the heart-rate monitor's clip off of his index finger.)
[…Right. Here we go. Connor is definitely under that telltale thrall of morphine, or whatever it is the hospital’s decided to give him. Markus reaches out, a huff of amusement he’s trying to keep to himself escaping.]
No, Connor— wait.
[A hand to gently clasp around his wrist, stopping his motion. The emotional buzz of the bond kicking up again.]
Not now. You need to rest. I need to rest, too. We’ll go soon, all right?
(markus' tired amusement feeds up his arm and he's forced back by responsibility. he's right, of course, as he often is. no matter how desperately he wants to go, they have to take it easy now.
connor only has one thing to ask, dropping back against his pillows.)
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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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.
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the painkillers make his head cloudy with appreciation, whatever protest his collarbone makes at the tight hug lost to the desire to keep markus close. so it's no fault of his own when the fingers of his free hand tighten and his face presses into a broad shoulder, head bowed, staring unseeingly at the far wall.
until markus can speak again.
he has to bite back another painful swell of emotion — "i know that you'll be there for all of it" — blinking to keep his eyes dry.)
You're... you're welcome. I'm just happy to be a part of this, so, if I could, I'd like to remain by your side for as long as I'm able to.
(a somewhat awkward pat at his back is connor's idea of something comforting, his palm eventually flattening between markus' shoulder blades.)
Are you alright?
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[—he echoes, and with tension having long crested, Markus feels like he can finally pull back and look at his friend with a tired sort of relief spread across his features. Bruised, sporting a swollen lip, and now wet around the eyes, he’s nearly certain that he doesn’t cut the most flattering portrait of himself.
Not that any of it seems to matter in this moment.]
It’s hard to describe how I feel. It’s news that’s lifted a weight on one side, and added to another. I still can’t afford complacency, but if anything else, this is just more motivation to keep pushing forward.
[Knowing that success can and will exist. Frightening and exhilarating. Hope proven to not be in vain.
His mouth tilts into an earnest smile, given to Connor freely, despite it all.]
But it’s wonderful, too. Of course it is.
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his head weighs to one side, cushioning itself on the highest of the three separate pillows propping up his back and neck.)
You always knew it was possible and, despite your doubts, knew we'd rise up. Now it's a reality in at least one iteration of our futures.
...
I never did get to celebrate.
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A chance to celebrate. Even if Markus hasn’t quite earned that yet, he’d not deny Connor of the opportunity — even if they are dimensions or worlds away. They need it. It’d be good for the both of them.]
Would you like to?
[What does he want to do?]
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(after everything else this comes easily to him, too high on painkillers to feel apprehensive and too proud of how naturally they repaired their friendship after so much went so wrong. if markus doesn't want to, he will say no. if markus does, then they'll be able to take this conversation somewhere else.
build on it, get to know more about one another's lives and bond over the mistakes they made.
connor's lips part, a moment's delay before he manages to piece together the words to communicate what he wants in his head.)
We could finish our dinner. Somewhere nicer, this time.
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So he’s not exactly expecting the most coherent reply as the syllables roll off of the other’s tongue. Yet Connor keeps speaking, formulating what it is he wants to do, and Markus finds that’s not quite what he expected to hear.
A dinner. A nice dinner. Does he know what that sounds like? Or is he too high on painkillers to even consider implication or intent or anything more than just two friends celebrating a promised future? Should he ask—]
Yes. I’d like that. [—but the words escape him before they can be pinned down, surprising even him. He pauses briefly, inexplicably, then continues.]
Once you’ve recovered a little, we can go wherever you like.
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You would? (that's not at all what he wanted to ask, but there's a certain lag to him now that's making the process of thinking difficult and he's been derailed by his absentee outfit — maybe he's grown too accustomed to that lived-in thing.) Hearing you say that, I think I'd prefer to go now.
(said as he tries to the heart-rate monitor's clip off of his index finger.)
This is difficult to do with only the one hand.
(here we go...)
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No, Connor— wait.
[A hand to gently clasp around his wrist, stopping his motion. The emotional buzz of the bond kicking up again.]
Not now. You need to rest. I need to rest, too. We’ll go soon, all right?
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connor only has one thing to ask, dropping back against his pillows.)
Are you staying?
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Of course I’ll stay.
[Watching Connor sink back into his pillows, Markus releases his loose grip, letting his hand rest at the bedside once more.]
I’m not going anywhere.