AN: Thanks to KoNekoKirara, la lapin, UchihaChihiro, WayRoundWrong, Flying Pencil, Whimsical Shmoo, Neutral-Chaotic and ADashOfInsanity for reviewing since the last chapter!
Marth stopped at the supermarket on his way home, armed with a simple plan – to make Pit dinner. After everything Pit had done for him, it was the least he could give in return. Anything to make him feel a little less guilty. Though why should he feel guilty?
He browsed through the aisles slowly. Should he make pasta, or soup?
He'd left Ike's jacket at his office, lying on the desk. Just so that if Ike passed that way again he would know Marth hadn't taken it home with him, and would know that it was a complete accident that he'd kept it in the first place.
Soup. A nice, thick soup – tomato. Then followed by pasta. Why not go all out? It wasn't like Pit hadn't done five times more on any other day.
He'd already lost his appetite. He looked down at his stomach and scolded it. Why should he feel so awkward? He hadn't done anything.
Tomatoes, cream, sausage, broccoli… He put them all into his basket and went to find some fresh bread, willing himself to be more enthusiastic. In his mind he pictured Pit smiling at him, pleased – but that was how Pit always looked, and it didn't make him feel any more motivated.
Back at home he prepared the tomatoes for the soup and then looked around for any Post-It notes. He found five in total, along with three messages on his answer phone. He checked through all the messages just to be sure they were all from Pit before deleting them, and then collected up the Post-It notes to put in the bin. Just as he was about to drop them in he paused, remembering something. He had a disused biscuit tin for storing these notes – when had he stopped keeping them? He couldn't remember.
When the soup was finished he moved on to the pasta, stirring slowly and wondering when Pit would arrive. It wouldn't be long, anyway. Just as well pasta wasn't a long winded dish. A simple cheese sauce would be nice…
The doorbell rang.
"Coming!"
Marth skipped to the door and pulled it open expectantly. "Pi-it…!" His voice stuck a little in the middle as he glanced down at Pit's arms.
"It's a casserole dish!" he announced proudly.
Marth stared at it.
"Lamb, hope you don't mind!"
Marth continued to stare at it. "Oh," he said at length.
"What is it?"
Marth felt the beginnings of an irrational anger but shrugged as if it didn't matter. "I was making dinner myself."
"Oh…That's okay, you can have that – I can have the casserole!"
Marth looked at him for a moment. "Are you saying my cooking doesn't taste as good?"
Pit's eyes widened. "Oh no, not at all! I'm sure it's wonderful! That's what I mean – you don't have to share," he explained generously.
Confused and slightly irritated Marth replied, "What do you mean? I made enough for two."
"Oh!" Pit blushed.
Before Marth could think of anything else to say Pit slipped past him and into the house.
"I'll just put this in the fridge!" he announced from the kitchen.
Marth slowly closed the front door. So Pit thought he was selfish. Except he didn't – Pit wasn't the sort of person to ever be judgemental. He'd simply, innocently, expected Marth to be selfish. Which was worse.
"Do you need a hand with this pasta?" Pit called.
The evening had somehow gone wrong. Marth barely heard the question and stared into the air, contemplating. He'd wanted to be a better boyfriend by doing this; to ease his guilt, to treat Pit for once. But now he felt that he'd only managed to show up his own inadequacy. Slowly he walked into the kitchen to join Pit.
"Thank you so much for the dinner," Pit beamed at him.
Marth stared at him. The pasta wasn't even finished yet and Pit had finished a whole casserole already to bring over. And Pit was thanking him for the dinner. The hardest part was that he meant it – Marth could see the genuine pleasure in his eyes. He wished, in a way, that Pit had been sarcastic. But how could he wish for Pit to be less lovely than he was? How was that fair?
"This smells lovely." Pit inhaled deeply, still smiling.
Stop, please stop. Marth forced himself to smile. "Thank you." He gritted his teeth as soon as he'd said it – he'd gone a bit sarcastic there – had Pit noticed? Why couldn't he be genuine? He looked away for a moment to hide his irritation – with himself – because if Pit saw and asked him if he was alright he knew he wouldn't be able to bear it.
"It's almost ready," he managed in a business-like way. "Fe –" No, don't fetch the plates, you've done too much already – "Why don't you sit down and I'll serve?"
"Okay!" Pit went over to the table and Marth brought him the soup and a few slices of bread to start on, then finished up the pasta, put the lid on and took another bowl of soup over to the table for himself and sat down.
Pit did most of the talking as they ate, though they both did more eating than talking. As his belly filled up Marth gradually began to feel more positive about the whole attempt. He'd done a good thing. Pit, certainly, was looking very pleased. Perhaps too pleased. Marth hadn't meant the dinner as an encouragement – but he'd wanted Pit to be pleased… He brushed the thoughts away and gave Pit a smile.
"Are you finished?"
"Yes." Pit sighed happily.
"I'll get the pasta then." Marth took their dishes away and went back into the kitchen. As he poured out the pasta he watched Pit out of the corner of his eye. Pit didn't even so much as fidget. Watching him Marth felt something of a sad laugh beginning in him and he wasn't even sure why. He finished plating up the pasta and brought it back over to the table.
"The main is served," he announced with a smile.
"Yay!" Pit cheered lightly.
Once more Marth sat down and they resumed eating. Perhaps this was alright after all. He was rather pleased with his cooking – at least he didn't have to berate himself for not being as good as Pit in that respect.
"So you see," Marth said as they finished, "You didn't have to bring the casserole."
Pit smiled. "I know – but it was a gift!"
Marth struggled inwardly for a moment. "But…you don't have to."
Pit shrugged, still smiling. "It's a gift!" he repeated.
"But I don't need it."
Pit laughed. "You don't have to need gifts!"
"I know…" Marth tried a different tack. "I'll get fat on all this food you bring me."
"You're not fat," Pit rushed reassuringly.
"I could get fat…" Marth pushed.
Pit paused thoughtfully. "If you like I can bring salad instead, that's got less fat. Do you like salad?"
"You don't have to make salad, I can make that."
"I know. But I like making things for you." Pit smiled.
Marth didn't know what to say.
Later, when all the dishes had been washed, they sat on the sofa drinking tea. Topics had changed and changed again as they were prone to do, and now Pit was describing his ideal beach. Marth wasn't really paying attention – it had something to do with soft sand and gentle waves, a generally romantic image. He sat quietly until Pit said,
"I wouldn't want to go alone, though. But if I did, I'd bring you back a load of coconuts and souvenirs or –"
"Have you always done this?" he interrupted.
Pit looked at him, confused. "Done what?"
"Buy people things." He didn't want to get back to this argument, and yet he felt compelled to. It bothered him, and this seemed a new track to try.
"What do you mean?" Pit queried.
"Do you buy lots of presents for your friends and family, too?"
"No…I don't understand…sometimes – on birthdays and Christmases…"
"Pit…" Marth bit his lip nervously. How could he scold someone for buying him presents? "Did you have a boyfriend before me that you bought a lot of things for?"
"I…" Pit hesitated. "I had a boyfriend before you… but I didn't buy him so much stuff."
"Why not?"
Pit shrugged.
That's not helpful. Marth asked the next question gently, in case he was treading on sensitive ground. "Can I ask…why you split?"
There was a long pause. Marth felt progressively guiltier for having asked the question, and wondered if he should take it back. But he had to know if they had split because of something silly like Pit getting his boyfriend some sort of massive present and freaking him out…
Pit was looking down at his hands. Most splits were simple enough… misunderstandings, youthful mismatches… But Pit still hadn't replied and Marth wondered if it was more serious. He couldn't do this. He opened his mouth to take the question back, but just as he breathed in Pit looked up at him, his eyes welling with tears.
"I didn't love him enough," he whispered.
Oh heck. Hadn't loved him enough? Had his old boyfriend dumped him not because he gave him too much, but because he gave him too little? Had his old boyfriend been a golddigger?
"Pit…" Marth took Pit's hands, feeling his heart break as he watched Pit's bottom lip tremble. "Pit, I'm sure you did. Giving people presents isn't the only way to show your love for someone. And you don't need to give me presents. I know that you love me. You understand?" That would explain why Pit brought him so much stuff…it was why his old boyfriend left him…
Pit was crying, and didn't reply. Marth hugged him close, feeling terrible.
"You don't need to buy me things, okay?"
Pit nodded against his shirt. Marth stroked his hair comfortingly.
"On S-Saturday," Pit sniffed. "Tha-at g-guy I made us walk aw-way from…That was him."
"I'm sorry I pried."
"No, it's okay…" Pit wiped his eyes. "Sorry for being sad," he apologised abruptly. "We can have the casserole tomorrow, and I'll make a nice dessert or get film tickets or something – yes? And we'll be happy! And then we still have 'Legally Blonde' to look forward to – remember?"
Sorry? For being sad?
"I'd better blow my nose, I must look horrible! I'll call you! We'll see a film tomorrow – yes?"
This was…impossible. But what could he say? "Yes."
"I love you!"
Marth swallowed. "I love you too."
"I love you more!" Pit blew him a kiss. "See you tomorrow!" And just like that, he was gone. Positively beaming. Marth watched him go, totally confused. Had anything he'd said gone through at all? But how could he try to persuade Pit again, knowing that…
He stood up slowly and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Everything was silent and he lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt restless, his mind drifting from Pit to Ike and then back again. After a moment he stood from the bed and walked over to his chest of drawers, opening the top drawer slowly.
It was still there, of course. The silver photo frame, mocking him. He lifted it out. It was cold to the touch. He thought of all the pictures he'd looked through and found himself wondering if Pit had a stack of pictures somewhere in his house, and if they looked the same. Did he have a framed one of Marth? Marth had been around to Pit's house, but not for a while…he didn't remember there being one there. He sighed, and shifted the frame from one hand to the other. If the frame wasn't from Ike, he wondered, would he have put a picture in it then? If he had just found the frame in the attic or something…
With a sigh he sat back down on the bed, staring at it. Pit was quite photogenic; it wasn't like it would make a bad picture if he put one of him in there. But he just couldn't. The idea just seemed…excessive. He really ought to throw the frame away. The thing was, whether or not the frame contained a picture of Pit or him or was simply empty…it would always be a picture of Ike.
