Chapter Text
Marc rigidly plopped into the stool next to his brother. His body ticked in annoyance as he watched from the corner of his eye Steven distancing himself from Jake. He knew his younger brother was aromantic. So from a logical standpoint, this whole schtick was nothing more than a ruse. But he couldn’t help feeling bothered. Little brothers were placed on this planet to torment.
Jake straightened his– Marc’s –clothes, running his fingers through his hair and neatly combing it back. ‘I better get going,’ Jake announced. He unlatched the pocket from his tablet’s case rummaging through receipts until a teal business card fell onto the counter. He winked at Steven, circling his phone number with a pen, and sliding the card towards the shoppist with a sly smirk. ‘Nice meeting you, mi amado.’
‘Et tu, mon chou.’ Steven grinned, dramatically offering the card a wet smooch. A sharp puckering echoed through the shop, and a wave of jealousy ran through Marc.
As Jake headed for the door, the elder made a move to grab his younger brother’s arm, but his grasp was loose, and Jake easily wriggled away. The younger man smirked, whispering lowly, ‘your move, mi hermano.’ He waved his older brother away, kissing his lips at Steven as a final goodbye.
The door clinked shut. The silence was a suffocating weight thickening the air. The collar of Marc’s shirt felt tighter and his fingers fumbled to unbutton the highest knot. His focus hooked onto Steven’s crafty smile before dropping distractedly to his forearms. The tea shoppist wiped the spill on the countertop in slow broad strokes, rolling his sleeves to his elbows whenever they fell back to his wrists. He finished clearing the counter, dropping the mug and teapot into the sink behind him, before pulling out a clean tea set from one of the decorated shelves.
Marc frowned as Steven playfully shook a jar of tea leaves in front of him, declining the offer of a warm cup. But in true Steven fashion, Marc was ignored and the sweet scent of roses bloomed between them. The journalist generally enjoyed the quiet, but this was painful. Steven was lazily brewing tea while Marc was left to play twenty questions in his head.
Steven poured two cups and sat the pot down, and Marc seized the opportunity to cup the shoppist’s soft hands between his calloused ones. His gaze skimmed over Steven’s knuckles, trying to calm himself by tracing the veins on olive-toned skin. He felt his mouth dry and face grow hot. Why was this so difficult? He had never felt anything less than confidence when taking the lead. So why was it so different with Steven?
The stillness had overstayed its welcome and Marc had yet moved. Steven blinked, a little confused, a little impatient. As cute as Marc was, a cat too scared to chase a mouse didn’t exactly constitute a game.
Steven limply shook his limb held by Marc. ‘Little handsy, are we?’ He asked.
Marc shook his head dumbfounded, fingers unravelling its grasp. ‘Shit–I’m sorry.’
‘Anything on your mind, love?’
Marc swallowed nervously. ‘You and my brother, huh?’ He knew the answer, but he had to be sure.
‘Nothing more than friends getting to know each other.’ Steven reassured. ‘He’s quite helpful. Offered to help fix up my books.’
‘Sounds about right.’ Marc chuckled in relief. He brought the cup to his nose. The perfumed aroma a little overbearing, but the taste was gentle.
As Steven settled into his seat, peeling a tangerine, he asked Marc to share his day. He fed the journalist bites of citrus, listening to Marc groan about a duplicate article. He was clueless about the technicalities of writing and publishing, but he enjoyed listening to Marc blab about the things he was clearly passionate about.
They took a pause, and Marc pulled out his pen and notepad. He mouthed the last bit of tangerine, savouring the flavour, clicking his pen ready and facing Steven with excitement.
‘Enough about me,’ Marc interrupted, gaze fiery and wide, ‘you promised me the secrets to your shop.’
Steven couldn’t help but blush as a smile stretched from cheek to cheek. The eagerness in Marc’s poise was cute, like a puppy begging for a treat. And for Marc to lean in with enthusiasm over Steven’s interests sent the tea shoppist over the moon.
Steven shared the history of his little business, from how he grew and dried his own leaves while filling local orders out of an old shed, to finding his own corner in New York and shipping his leaves across the country. Gushing over his work while Marc listened closely, Steven felt nothing less than special. He started laying out old photos, pressed leaves in a small scrapbook, and notes from his brewing experimentations. He had spoken for so long, he wasn’t sure if Marc’s attention had wavered, but the sound of the pen scribbling along told him otherwise.
The two were interrupted as the door clamoured open. Marc glanced at Steven with concern when the tea shoppist snapped his neck towards the sound. The reaction was familiar, but again, Marc struggled to put a pin on the memory.
By the glass stood the silhouette of a broad, troubling man with arms folded across his chest and one foot impatiently tapping to the side. His features were muddied by the backlight of a dying sun, but Marc could make out the short clean crop of dirty blonde hair and a strong wide jaw.
Marc gleaned over the figure. The man’s dark clothes made it harder to lock down any other key features. Something unsettling balled in his throat, but the feeling felt closer to anger than it did fear. He had always prized his instincts, so he listened keenly when they alerted his sense of uneasiness and an impulse to protect.
Steven rapt the countertop sharply, garnering Marc’s attention and signalling him to stay seated. Marc hadn’t realised he had leapt from his stool, trying to get a better look at the man by the door. The featureless silhouette poised an unreadable danger, but unwilling to upset the tea shoppist, Marc shuffled uncomfortably back into his seat. He tightened his hands around his cup of tea, eyes narrowing as he caught Steven’s shaky hands dropping his hand towel before striding to the front of the shop.
There was a bit of defiance in Steven’s steps, back stiff and elbows locked. The playful cattiness dissolved with each step closer to the figure. His shoulders rose with a deep inhale, weeping slowly followed by a long exhale. In the pit of his stomach, Marc knew the man by the door was Brett, the boyfriend, but Steven didn’t have to say it.
Marc watched intently as Steven’s head tilted up, body language vexed, but he couldn’t make out their conversation. Their shadows grew animated, Steven’s smaller figure waving wildly even though his voice was hushed. Marc noted the sudden movement of Brett’s arm darting forward to grab Steven’s wrist, and Steven yanking his limb back in frustration as they argued.
It was clear Steven wasn’t stronger; Brett was also significantly larger. The broad’s movements grew more intense as Steven stumbled in his grasp, voices turning a notch louder.
Marc fought against the jitters to get involved. Every nerve in his body itching for him to move, but the sentient side begging him to stay seated– don’t involve yourself, you’ll make Steven mad. But with every second passing, Marc could feel his pulse labour. It was like watching the violent flash of lightning, then feeling the hollowing echo of thunder reverberate through his body.
Steven jerked roughly as he was yanked to the side. With momentum twisting clumsy legs tangled at the ankles, it was no surprise when Steven ragdolled to the floor. The stool clattered. Marc’s mind had lingered, but his body had flown–instincts overtaking. His hand wrapped tight around Brett’s wrist, eyes glowering and mouth curled into a disgusted snarl. Sure, Brett was larger, but Marc was just as strong. He ripped the blond man’s hold from Steven’s arm and threw the limb off to the side.
Wide towering shoulders of a well statured man couldn’t intimate him. Marc was used to diving head first into the looming threat of things he knew nothing about. In reality, there were very few things that scared him, and imminent danger acted more like a fuel than it did a deterrent.
Brett scoffed as he glowered at Marc. ‘Sorry Stevie, didn’t notice you were busy. Never knew this place actually got customers.’
‘You’d be surprised, this place does pretty well.’ Marc commented sternly, body positioned to shield Steven from that man.
The blond scoffed, scanning the room before looking over Marc’s shoulder. ‘Could have fooled me.’ He sneered, eyes locking with Steven’s before adding, ‘We can finish this up later. See you at home, Stevie.’
Marc sighed as he watched Brett leave. Steven was eerily silent, not letting out even a rustle of movement. Marc turned his head in concern, finding Steven shell-shocked staring right past his shoulder towards the swinging door.
‘Steven?’ Marc called.
Steven exhaled, his disturbed expression unhinging as he directed his fear towards Marc in the only way he knew how, anger. He pushed himself off the floor, feet immediately planted firm to the ground. While his body jittered as the adrenaline ebbed away, he locked his spine taut, and stalked towards Marc shaking his hands to loosen his nerves.
Brown innocent eyes tapered with ire. ‘What was that?’ Steven nearly roared, vocal chords unsteady. His naturally quaint, teasing lilt evolved into something nasty.
Marc stepped back, head bent in disbelief. ‘What do you mean?’ Marc returned, voice rising to match Steven’s volume. He didn’t like being shouted at. ‘I should be asking you the same thing! Why are you with such a douchebag!?’
Steven angrily pointed his finger inches from Marc’s nose. ‘It is none of your concern nor is it your business to meddle in affairs not your own. You should have remained seated!’
‘Well you made it my business when you started flirting with me!’
‘It was harmless, meaningless flirting and it’s not my fault your fragile heart and stupid brain took it so seriously!’ Steven shouted.
He paused– no, no, no. He didn’t mean it. The words came fumbling out so fast, so frustrated, they had only felt right to say because Steven knew those words would hurt. He didn’t mean it. He had simply reacted. He didn’t mean it! But the words had fired like full metal jackets leaving lasting holes in Marc’s chest and blood was everywhere.
He could see it–the damage. The way Marc took a step back and the heart wrenching concoction of betrayal, guilt, and hurt mixing against his brows; Steven wanted to reach out and apologise. But the words fell flat on his lips in a mindless stutter of ‘I-I–I didn't–’
Steven’s eyes softened, desperate to pull Marc back, but Marc winced at the approach like a burn. He could do nothing but watch as Marc’s breath began to hitch, his feet scrambling backwards in a flush of panic for the door.
As the door clinked shut for the last time, Steven felt his ankles grow weak and his knees give out. The pangs of guilt throbbed within the void of his chest, aching and debilitating. Tears welled in his eyes. It’s been a while since he had cried. A flood of exhaustion took over, and he felt the dampness of his cheek meet the gritty dirt embedded in the cracks of the wooden floor.
He laid there, limbs limp. And for the first time, the feeling of loneliness actually pained him.