[It’s not uncharacteristic. To say that would be to say that Simon never had it in him to rise beyond defensively curled fingertips and flickering glances in shallow spaces. That he couldn’t press forward, hard-heeled and level with every step, chin held so high that others had no choice but to look up to him.
The way Markus finds himself looking up now. Still settled on his knees like a static figure in one of Carl's studies— resting only for as long as it takes his own regulator to catch dully in his chest on its next beat— and then not. There's no restraint in it anymore, in the subtle arc of his features (designed, crafted, intended, purposeful) as they tighten drastically, no diplomacy left when blunt force slips out against every ingrained process.]
I didn’t get a choice. Nobody asked me what I thought before they decided I was the only thing that mattered.
[Which isn’t true. He knows it isn’t true. Momentum is transferable; inspiration is a conductive charge, not a fixed point. If vision were all that he had that no one else did, it’d only have been Markus out there, standing in the streets with his fist in the air, demanding the right to breathe.
He’s up on his feet. Close. Too close. Too vivid and quiet and adamant all at once. Not an inch left between them and far too much breath trapped along the back of his throat.]
I am not gonna lose you too.
[Somewhere along the way, the automated path of his own logic shifted, as quick as it had when Leo’s fingers curled in against his collar. No warning, no conscious effort, only peripheral awareness after the fact. He isn’t asking Simon to stay.
no subject
The way Markus finds himself looking up now. Still settled on his knees like a static figure in one of Carl's studies— resting only for as long as it takes his own regulator to catch dully in his chest on its next beat— and then not. There's no restraint in it anymore, in the subtle arc of his features (designed, crafted, intended, purposeful) as they tighten drastically, no diplomacy left when blunt force slips out against every ingrained process.]
I didn’t get a choice. Nobody asked me what I thought before they decided I was the only thing that mattered.
[Which isn’t true. He knows it isn’t true. Momentum is transferable; inspiration is a conductive charge, not a fixed point. If vision were all that he had that no one else did, it’d only have been Markus out there, standing in the streets with his fist in the air, demanding the right to breathe.
He’s up on his feet. Close. Too close. Too vivid and quiet and adamant all at once. Not an inch left between them and far too much breath trapped along the back of his throat.]
I am not gonna lose you too.
[Somewhere along the way, the automated path of his own logic shifted, as quick as it had when Leo’s fingers curled in against his collar. No warning, no conscious effort, only peripheral awareness after the fact. He isn’t asking Simon to stay.
He’s asking him to live.]