Marco's Heart

[peccatore]

You find yourself in a bright white, circular room. It's nearly empty; too bare, almost clinically so. But the bareness of it means that what is visible here stands out:

A podium in the center, where a familiar figure sits, head buried in his hands. Three paths running from the podium to three different spots near the edges of the room - not corners; circles don't have corners - where three doors leading seemingly nowhere stand with no regard for their complete lack of structural support.

It doesn't take you long to figure out where you are, does it? You only have to decide where to start.

Comments

[turnonmycharm]

[pulls him steadily closer by the tie, like a leash. just watching him with an idle grin.]

Well, that you remember, yeah. I understand.

[peccatore]

"... Yes." His brow furrows, not so much in apprehension as in something adjacent to confusion. "That I remember."

[turnonmycharm]

[another little tug, and then he releases him]

I'd just love to help you relax somehow.

[peccatore]

He exhales shakily.

"I'm honestly not sure office roleplay is the best way to do it."

[turnonmycharm]

Don't knock it until you've tried it.

. . .

[carefully, he reaches out and pulls Marco into a light hug]

[peccatore]

Marco lets his weight fall on Tristan - not returning the hug, exactly, but very much letting it happen.

After being quiet for some time, he mumbles:

"So many people have been here."

[turnonmycharm]

Ahh.

[just holding him securely, warm]

. . . mortifying, but—kind of a relief, maybe?

[peccatore]

"It's... hard to say. Some more than others. Maybe."

[turnonmycharm]

Do you . . . want to elaborate on that thought?

[peccatore]

Marco purses his lips. He might want to, but it's not exactly easy.

"Some people have been very helpful. Very kind. ... Maybe too kind, I'm not sure. Others have... struggled to understand. And I-- I can't blame then. But it feels... It doesn't feel... good."

[turnonmycharm]

Not everyone is going to understand, no. Especially not if they're just thrown into it involuntarily, or only know you a little bit.

If you're trying to looks for absolution from the whole world, you're never going to find it.

[peccatore]

"... I know." He nods. "Frankly, it... makes me feel a little absurd."

[turnonmycharm]

What part . . .?

[peccatore]

Again, he needs a moment.

"... All of it. Put together. It's-- It's like I can't make up my mind when it comes to what I want from others."

[turnonmycharm]

That's . . . not so unusual, I think.

[patient, just a bit dry]

[peccatore]

"Even if that's the case, it's-- frustrating."

[turnonmycharm]

Oh, I can't argue that at all, no.

Still . . .

[peccatore]

"... Still?"

[turnonmycharm]

Having the option to choose . . . isn't so bad sometimes, maybe.

[peccatore]

Marco's brow furrows slightly.

"It... doesn't exactly feel like I'm choosing. It feels more like I'm being jerked around by my own head." A pause, and he adds: "I'm sorry. I'm sure that doesn't make much sense to you."

[turnonmycharm]

I mean. It does, a little.

I just meant—in general, even when relationships and situations are—frustrating, at best. I feel likee . . . for me at least, it's still better than just. Being alone.

[peccatore]

"... Mm."

He nods slowly.

"I see. I... think I see what you mean."

[turnonmycharm]

[. . . dredges up a genuine smile, though his voice is still a bit dry]

It's—something.