#1.

Marco has always known his calmness is a sheer masquerade.

Growing up with fourteen brothers was no easy task, especially when he's the 'big brother'. At very young age, he'd learned to make his brothers the top priorities. Their needs for him made him felt worthy, so he always tried his best to be as reliable as he could.

But when it's his turn to need help, he doesn't know what to do. His brothers come to him when they needed help, not the vice versa. Marco felt scared. What would happened if they realized he was no longer trustworthy? The result is something he doesn't even dare to think about. He ignored his pain and kept on wearing a calm and welcoming mask. At some point along the process, the mask merged with his skin and Marco really forgot how to express his real emotions.

Deep down inside, he knows the negative feelings are still there, cannot be consumed or discarded. They accumulates in his body day by day like the salt in the Dead Sea.

Sometimes life gets hard. Sometimes things escalate though no one is at fault. Marco doesn't remember why he gets so angry. The need to lash the irritation out is seething so bad his ears buzzes and his vision blurs. Maybe the negativity piling up in him for years finally find a way to get on his nerves. Maybe he's just too exhausted to maintain his façade. Marco can't catch up with his thought anymore and he finally snaps.

His words are met with silence.

In an instant Ace's skin becomes paler, his mouth hangs with his lips slightly parted and his eyes dilate, then his whole body shivers.

"Ace?"

Rage immediately evaporates from Marco's mind. He's never seen a silent Ace. Ace is supposed to be the talkative one between the two of them. Silence hangs in the air like a poisonous cloud, cruelly underscoring how their conversation has become.

Marco reaches for his love, but Ace simply steps aside and raises his fist. Marco holds himself, yet the blow never comes. Ace withdraws his hand, turns around and walks out of their home. Something shatters and the pieces stab Marco in his heart. Through the window, he can see Ace walks toward his motorcycle. The young man picks up the helmet, then he puts it down and blends himself into the night.

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#2.

Ace wants to head to the sea, but he knows he's not a good state to ride. His body shivers and his hand cannot stop trembling. Oh how easy Marco can cut him deep. He has let Marco coming so close his heart is defenseless.

Sometimes shit happens, then shit hurts. Ace doesn't remember what'd led them to this awful conversation. Was it the workload? Was it the anniversary dates that got cancelled in the last minute? Was it they hadn't seen each other for five days? When he stared in Marco's eyes, the serene blue he adores so much was burning with rage, his heart fell silent. His Marco wasn't supposed to look at him like that. The words coming from Marco just straight pierced him in his weakest point.

In shock, his instinct thirsted for a horrid payback. His fist clenched tight. A retort ready to be spat out. Then Ace saw it, his own reflection in Marco's eyes: a hateful ego ready to bite the person he loves.

The bitter taste of venomous words choked on his throat. Since childhood Ace already knew how badly words can burn. He almost used words to damage his beloved.

He couldn't let that happen, so he ran away.

Instant noodles in convenient store aren't what he wishes for dinner. A few days ago they've run out of peanut butter, so he makes sure to get a new jar.

It starts raining right after he leaves the store, making the way home seems to be endless. The droplets wash his face in a chaotic cascade. Ace raises his eyes to the haze above, suffocated by the uncertainty of what is to come.

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#3.

When Ace gets in the front yard, he sees a shadow flashing behind the window. His motorcycle, which was parked outside, had been moved away. His helmet, completely dry and clean, lies on the shoe rack right next to his key. The jacket he threw on the sofa earlier is placed neatly on the clothes stand. Marco sits on the sofa, avoiding eyes contact. No 'I'm back', and no 'Welcome home'. The rain is still pouring hard outside, making the awkwardness in their room more vivid.

Ace takes a deep breath and walks to the kitchen to replace the butter jar. Peanut butter has never been his favorite, but getting a new jar when they run out of the paste has become a part of his habit. When he turns around, he notices Marco is gazing after the jar. His eyes sparkle like those of a child excited to unbox his Christmas's gift.

Worth it. Ace's lips curl into a smile. But when their eyes meet, Marco quickly turns away again.

"Take a shower, or you'll catch a cold."

Marco says blandly, then he heads upstairs.

Ace stares at Marco's back. His legs feels weak, then suddenly the urge to act becomes overwhelming. His body answers his desire faster than his thinking and he soon finds his chest leaning against a homey warmth. Marco's back is broader than his. He loves hugging Marco from behind, placing his chin against the man's shoulder and whispering a cheesy pickup line he reads on the Internet. Marco blushes easily and Ace likes teasing the man until he's so embarrassed he has force him to stop. The beautiful memory is such a contrary to the ironic reality, where Marco shifts his body in an attempt to move away.

Somehow the small gesture hurts him more than the words ever did.

"Marco…"

Marco stiffens.

It hurts. It really hurt. What you said really hurt.

"I-"

I'm mad at you. I'm so mad at you.

But I also…

"—love you."

Ace tightens his embrace and inhales deeply. It was easier than he expected. He was so mad, yet he could said those three words as naturally as always. He was hurt, yet when he reaches inside of himself, what is left is still a whole heart, beating faster when the blonde man is around, willing to expose its vulnerability.

No matter what happen, he cannot stop loving Marco. It's simply a fact.

His heart has been Marco's all along, even before the moment he said 'Yes'.

They stands silently next to the stairways until Ace feels coldness spreading on his chest. In horror he realizes he's been rubbing his wet outfit against Marco all along. He quickly lets go of his hands, but Marco grasps his wrists and holds them in place.

"Marco?"

"…Thanks God you came back."

Marco's voice cracks to nearly unhearable.

"…I-I'm sorry Ace, I shouldn't—"

"…"

"I-I just… I don't know how to… I should have run after you. I-"

"Are we still good?"

Ace mumbles, realizing how his voice is unstable too.

"We are!" Marco turns around and holds Ace in place, one hand cupping Ace's cheek, "We always are!"

"That's good," Ace burst a laugh, "That's so good."

His heart is put at ease. Ace closes his eyes and slightly leans his head to feel Marco's hand better. The heat from Marco's hand is so comfortable it reminds Ace of the first ray of sunlight after a rainy day.

Then Marco pushes him away, his voice becomes serious.

"But you need to shower first. Hurry up!"

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#4.

They lie side by side, taking comfort in the other's presence. Even their heartbeats seem to be synchronized. But the real problem, the reason why they fought, is yet to be solved. It lurks in the dark like a sneaky little monster, waiting for its chance to wreak havoc once again.

"We'll talk about that tomorrow?"

Ace breaks the silence. He doesn't plan to give the monster what it wants.

"We will," answered Marco, firmly and assertively.

"Goodnight then."

Ace snickers and surrenders to his sleeo. As he lies there and is sort of half-conscious, his mind recalls the seashore where they had their first date and how they shared the admiration for the great blue sea. Their hands fit perfectly, as if they're made for each other.

Then Ace catches a small whisper, a whisper so soft it may just be his imagination.

"I love you too."