Lying on the Moon

The humiliation which wracked his body without fail when he received a note from Branwen with his next request made Clover want to curl up under his duvet and disappear into the mattress forever. 'This message seemed a bit sadder. Hope you're doing alright.'

What kind of professional was he, if his clients could deduce his personal business when his entire job was to remove himself from the equation entirely?

However, he understood completely where his vulnerability was being spotted. After all, this sudden loneliness left in the wake of Marrow's resigned, regretful departure could not be ignored; every time he looked at his empty calendar, Clover's heart seized in his chest, frustration and sour bitterness clogging his throat as he tried to brush it off. It never worked. He missed Marrow- missed his companionship, his laughter, his liveliness in the face of Clover's awkwardness.

He missed feeling wanted, too. He could not deny it; perhaps that is what caused shame to take him over the most, for it was too pathetic to think of just how much he desired those eyes upon him… and how he didn't want to pursue anything more.

I wasn't fair to him, he thought with a grimace tugging his mouth as he noted the day. It was a Friday, four weeks since he had last seen Marrow. A full month of being in his house, only leaving when Qrow urged him to go for a walk, to get some fresh air. Those trips were few and far between, however, for every corner of every street seemed to be stained with a memory of his friend; a restaurant they had gone to eat in here, a knickknack shop hidden in this alley, a clothing store Marrow had dragged him into on the other side of town. Everywhere was filled with his former tie with the younger man.

Still, at least Qrow respected his boundaries. Never again did the AI put his profile up as 'available' on any dating websites, leaving Clover to wallow as necessary. However, even that was uncomfortable; everywhere he went, Clover could feel Qrow's eyes lingering upon him. More often than not, Clover found himself asking the AI to shut off the projection, to give Clover some solitude.

It wasn't enough. Even when the projection wasn't there, he could sense camera lenses following each movement. He knew that Qrow was always watching him, after all; how else would the lights always turn on, the coffee machine and kettle always ready when he needed it out of schedule, food he forgot to order arriving at his door and his work being submitted on time even when Clover fell asleep at his work monitor?

A part of him continued to wonder whether he should be frightened; in passing conversations with James and Winter about their own personal assistants, he found that neither of them gave such free reign to their AIOS, so Clover bit his tongue and spared them the details, lest they scold or fear for him.

Another part of him wondered whether this was what it was like to be loved. He ignored that thought. He did not need another pathetic tally to add to the lists of reasons why he felt like Robyn was right to leave him.

On the fifth Friday since Marrow's goodbye, his presence in Clover's home was more baffling than ever. The younger man knocked late in the evening upon Clover's door, stumbling in when Clover opened it without hesitation; Clover's heart swelled in relief, in worry, in longing for this face he has desperately missed, as he helped the drunken man stagger to his feet, guiding him to sit on the sofa. "What's wrong, Marrow?" he asked, bringing over a glass of water to the other. "You… were you out tonight? Did something happened?"

Marrow shook his head, alcohol casting a rosy flush to the tips of his ears and his nose which stood out even through his darker skin. "I was with friends," he slurred, "but I kinda missed you, Clo. Thought I should drop on by, 'cause you- you probably weren't going out tonight." He giggled strangely, clearly out of sorts. Looking over Clover's sweatpants and t-shirt, he added in a sing-song, "I was right!"

Clover sighed, but he could not find it within himself to be upset. There was something unbearably sweet about how happy Marrow was to see him. It was the first true human contact he had gotten in so long, and having him here in his home…

With a wry laugh, Clover said, "Okay, let's get you home. C'mon."

Pouting, the younger shook his head, although he did not resist Clover's guiding hands when the elder helped him drink his water and brought him to his feet. "I want to hang out with you- it's been so long, Clover!" Suddenly, he froze, expression shifting to one of stark discomfort. "Wait, wait wait wait- did you get with the person you were into?"

"I wasn't 'into' anyone, Mar-"

Pushing his shoulder with more force than necessary, Marrow cried, "No, you were! You liked someone more, right?" His pale blue eyes began to water slightly in his drunken haze, his lip wobbling as he whispered, "If ya don't, then… why haven't I seen you?"

"…You said we should end it."

For a moment, Marrow was absolutely silent as he mulled over these words. Then, he said lowly, "Well, fuck it."

Before Clover could stop him, strong arms wrapped around his neck, soft lips meeting his in a sloppy, clumsy kiss. Clover immediately buckled under Marrow's weight, straining to stand the other man upright; however, with his head clouding from the first contact he had had in what feels like years, his strength began to leave him, body aching for more.

Pulling away at last, Marrow grabbed his collar. "If you're single, then let's go," he whispered hotly, more sober- yet headier- than he had been all evening.

Before Marrow could drag him into the bedroom, however, the lights suddenly all flickered on, one of the projectors whirring to life as Qrow's figure filled the air. "Excuse me, Clover, but it wouldn't be wise to do this with someone who is inebriated." Turning to look at Marrow, he said plainly, "I would appreciate it if you headed home now, Mr. Amin."

Marrow froze, his jaw dropping momentarily. Clover could scarcely breathe; Qrow had never before meddled with someone he knew like this, so to see the hologram appear like this- and with such a set in his jaw, a fire in his eyes that almost seemed angry- was too much to comprehend. "Qrow, I-" he tried to splutter.

He could not get a word out before Marrow threw his head back and laughed. "Clover, call off your AI, and let's go," he cheered, his shock replaced by his good humour.

"I'd appreciate if you didn't touch him," Qrow repeated, voice growing louder.

"What?" Marrow chuckled, shaking his head. "How'd you program your AI to be a watch dog? That's good for robbers, I guess-"

"Don't touch him."

Clover and Marrow were glued to the spot, heads slowly turning to look at Qrow. His upper lip was curled into a sneer, red eyes flashing in distaste, brow furrowed and bitter.

A wave of shame crashed into Clover, so dizzying he could barely stay on his feet. What in the world was Qrow doing? Why was he stopping this- why was he so angry?

And why was Clover happy about it?

Suddenly, all of the curiosity and humour drained away from Marrow's face, any hints of a drunken stupor fading away as his skin grew waxy, pale. "Clover," he breathed slowly, "there… you said there isn't anyone, right?"

"There isn't!" Clover protested, running his hands through his hair. "Just- look, Marrow-"

But Marrow's gaze was fixated upon none other than Qrow, the younger staggering up to the projection to examine him fully. "…he's pretty handsome, you know."

Desperation gripped Clover's soul with icy claws. "No, Marrow, I-"

Marrow raised his hands in surrender. "Your AI is really realistic, man. I- I don't care if it's a holoscreen, this thing's angry." Unease dripped from every word. "I'm… I'll head home now, okay?" And with that, he stumbled over to the door, waving goodbye with one final, "I'll message you later, Clover," before the door slammed shut behind him.

Clover slumped down onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. Oblivious to his turmoil- or, Clover realized darkly, perhaps he was keenly aware of it, after all- Qrow murmured, "I did not want you to make a mistake like that. Robyn did not know what she lost, Clover. Marrow did not know either when he left you till now."

He let out a crumbling gasp in response. That is all his brain could generate.

Then, Qrow's voice lowered, almost seductively so. "You seem to be aroused, lucky charm. Need a hand?"

He did not respond. All he could do was stand up, go into his bedroom, and lock his door, leaving the projection of Qrow outside. He knew that Qrow could easily reappear upon the projector inside his bedroom- that was the price to pay for a fully integrated system like his- but at the moment, he simply didn't care, humiliation and frustration consuming him from head to toe.

Marrow's eyes had been horrified. He thinks I'm in love with Qrow, he repeated to himself in abject horror. He thinks I'm in love with an AI, and he thinks I'm a freak for it.

That night was spent berating himself, locking in painful, untouched arousal and absolute self-loathing, for no matter how much he searched- and when he came out of his room the next morning, and Qrow appeared next to his work station with the words, "Good morning, handsome," slipping from his lips with such ease it felt more than human- Clover could not find a hint of denial in regards to Marrow's thoughts within himself.