A/N: This has a character death in, so be warned.
"I knew it all along; you're just a fucking coward, Flint." Oliver spat in his face, his temper quickly spiralling out of control. "How could you even think I'd want to do that?"
"I'm not making you do it." Flint snapped back, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "It's your choice."
"I'm not going."
"Suit yourself; it'll be your funeral."
And he slammed the door on his way out.
Despite what Oliver might have thought; Marcus wasn't a coward. He wasn't asking him to run because he was afraid; he wasn't asking him to hide because he wasn't brave enough to fight. The reason he was trying to get them to leave was simply self preservation.
He'd known that it'd be a struggle to get Wood to agree; he was a stubborn git at heart, nothing would change that. So really, it hadn't shocked Flint when he'd thrown the suggestion back in his face with a usual flurry of anger attached. Normally he'd have tried to argue reason with the other; try and convince him that whatever stupid idea of grandeur he had, it wasn't going to happen. That day he simply hadn't got the energy to argue, so he'd just left, hoping that Oliver knew what he was doing.
Turns out that really; Oliver had no clue and neither did he.
Now that he thought about it; it probably had sounded like he was just looking after himself again when that hadn't been his intention. He had his reasons as to why he wanted them to leave, but Oliver simply hadn't seen them and he wasn't exactly going to point them out. After all he couldn't exactly say: 'I need you to survive this war and this is the only way I can protect you' because he wasn't meant to feel anything for anyone; least of all Oliver Wood. So, instead he'd made himself sound like he actually was selfish and cowardly.
If he could have phrased it differently, looking back at it, he would have. But since when was he known for eloquence and tact when it came to the things he said? So he could just blame Oliver for not reading deeper into it; because Oliver was meant to be the smarter (and more sentimental) one and was supposed to see a hidden meaning in everything he said.
But in all seriousness, blaming Oliver wasn't going to help now. It was too late for him to blame the younger for being a stupid Gryffindor that didn't realise that racing headlong into a fight was dangerous; and that Marcus was actually being considerate. And in also being a Gryffindor he didn't known that Slytherins had a great sense of self preservation and protection towards things they cared about.
He wondered if things would have been different if they'd both fought together, or if they'd both run. There was little doubt in his mind that it would have been an extremely different future facing them both; and he caught himself wishing that perhaps it could be that future he was living.
"It's your own damn fault for not listening." He mumbled, somewhat torn between sorrow and anger, because he really had no idea how he was supposed to react. "If you'd have just listened to me, it wouldn't have to be like this."
The stagnant silence didn't surprise him in the slightest; he'd become quite accustomed to talking and getting no response. Honestly, it didn't stop him from saying the things aloud; like a ghosting whisper of regret that he couldn't ever shake.
"Did you ever think he was just trying to be nice?"
"Nice," He snorted at the idea that Marcus could even be nice. "This is Flint we're talking about."
"You and I both know his inability to communicate in anything but grunts. Ever think that was his way of telling you something?"
Oliver looked up at Percy; wondering since when he understood relationships (especially his and Flints') and it suddenly dawned on him what actually might have been hidden in that simple request.
"Oh shit." He pushed himself up, "thanks Perce!"
And he didn't even finish his drink on his way out.
It had occurred to him a while ago that he really didn't know Flint all that well; especially if he couldn't see what the elder was actually trying to say. When Marcus had asked him to run; the only thing that had jumped to mind was the Gryffindor bravery in reflection to the Slytherin cowardice. Unfortunately, that wasn't what was going on there at all; but it didn't stop him talking before he even knew what he was saying.
When Percy was the one that got him to realise what was going on; he really knew he was in a lot of trouble. Percy wasn't supposed to understand relationships- least of all the Flint and Wood variety. Yet he understood what Marcus was trying to say and needless to say, he'd felt like a prat.
So he decided to go looking for Marcus; just to make sure he knew that he'd not meant what he'd said and that he didn't want to run, nor did he want to fight. He didn't know if that would make sense to anyone but it was always worth a try, even if he ended up making a fool of himself. At least Marcus would understand then; because despite everything, Marcus always understood.
He sighed, running his hands over the weathered stone, not exactly sure what he was supposed to be doing here, but he always ended up coming back despite himself. He always looked down from this perch onto the landscape that still remained bruised and battered from the war; in a way it comforted him to see that others were still recovering from the damages left behind. That way he could never say he was truly alone; even if he felt it.
He'd never found Flint after all; he reasoned that it meant that really Flint was a better at disappearing than he'd thought. Oliver sometimes caught himself wondering what would have happened if he'd agreed to run with him; would they both have vanished without the slightest trace? Or would they both be stood now, surveying the land beneath them wondering what had been gained?
"Hiding can only get you so far," he mumbled to no one in particular. "You're still a fucking coward for leaving me."
But he couldn't deny that in the end that some cowards run, some cowards hide… But in the end even if they weren't a coward, they would die.