Detention 1, 20:00, Trophy Room
Marcus and Oliver were assigned to polish awards in the trophy room for their first detention. Why they were put in the same detention, despite their big blowout earlier that day that had landed them there in the first place, was beyond anyone. Hogwarts was Hogwarts after all. They sat on opposite ends of the room, holding each other at a distance. Filch had been ordered by McGonagall to keep an eye on them, much to everyone's dismay. He occupied a desk between the pair, petting Mrs Norris whilst mumbling nonsense.
Marcus could feel Oliver glaring at his side, but he paid him no mind. He pretended like he didn't notice as he instead focused on the very interesting award he was polishing, granted to… "Tom Riddle", whoever that was. Probably a massive wanker. Every award winning wizard had a tendency to be a real douche. He vanished in his work. Put his concentration into a certain spot that needed extra polishing. He could not see Oliver. He was focusing, remembering…
It was a yearly tradition for the Flint family to spend their summers in Scotland. They own an old family estate there to which they would travel, located in a tiny wizarding community, with only a few muggle houses scattered in their surroundings. Way less than most places. They called it a "holiday", when in actuality, it was an excuse for Marcus' dad to be rid of his children for a couple of months every year. His mother was very compliant to her husband's demands, and spent the summer there with her kids.
Marcus is eight, and much in his life makes no sense. He is forced to take French and Latin, because old pureblood families force their kids to learn such things to become proper heirs someday. Him and his siblings have a tutor who teaches them necessary stuff, such as reading and writing, as well as proper etiquette and pureblood propaganda.
He isn't unhappy with his life, but he isn't pleased either. He is just existing and following along with the directions thrown his way, doing so poorly. His French is abysmal, almost as bad as his reading in Latin. He is far from a proper gentleman, unlike his older brother Christopher who was just naturally superior in every way when it came to these things. Fluent in French, Latin and even some German. Thirteen, starting his third year at Hogwarts, in which he has been excelling so far: a great asset to Slytherin house. Marcus' parents loved to make an example out of him whenever Marcus stepped out of line, never afraid to pull the phrase "Christopher would never do that!" out of their sleeves.
Marcus also has a younger sister, Anabelle, who is six years old and the only child he is sure his father actually loves. Or at the very least tolerates the most. She isn't perfect by any means, but that doesn't stop their father from treating her as such. Whilst praise towards Christopher was often used as an example for Marcus to follow, praise towards Anabelle always seemed genuine. It frightened Marcus to think his father actually had a heart.
Him? Well he is the middle child. No one cares for the middle child. No one except Oliver Wood of course, his best friend. Someone he'd met one summer long ago, and who he kept meeting. Someone who, once they'd learnt how to write, he'd started sending owls with letters filled with nonsense to. A person in which Marcus had invented a secret language that only they knew, which was way better than French, or Latin, or any other bullshit his parents wanted him to learn.
Best of all, Oliver Wood loves Quidditch. Just as much as Marcus. They talk about it for hours on end, both dreaming of one day going pro. Oliver has a room filled with Quidditch posters, mainly from Puddlemere United, and a broom that he got from his parents on his birthday. Sometimes he'd come knocking during the afternoon, wondering if Marcus would like to join him for a fly before supper. Today was one of those days.
"I can fly higher than you." Oliver liked to challenge, kicking off the ground.
"Oh yeah?" Marcus would quickly be on his own broom, a gift from his uncle. Soon he'd be in the air as well, the wind a pleasant chill from the warm weather.
They'd be soaring through the sky without any care in the world, for when you're a kid, your life is often problem free when you live an ordinary life. Marcus and Oliver's lives aren't ordinary persay, they are both wizards, but apart from that .
The two young wizards love flying together. It's a great reminder that they're alive. Great practice for the future. They're so young, so naive, without a clue as to what life will have in store for them. They're happy. In fact, spending time with Oliver is the only time Marcus really feels happy. There's no pressure to be some perfect son, no being compared to his siblings, or feeling less than. Marcus can't imagine ever giving that feeling up.
Detention 2, 20:00, Trophy Room
They spend their second detention finishing off what they hadn't managed to polish on their first one. Filch too made another appearance as the detention supervisor, as did Mrs. Norris, who if anything, seemed to enjoy the whole ordeal the least. Marcus had continued ignoring Oliver throughout the day. After their last detention Oliver had been more persistent than ever to get Marcus to talk to him (that stubborn prick), but Marcus really didn't get the title, 'difficult' for nothing and had stood his ground. His whatever with Oliver was finished. It had to be. So he did something that had by now become familiar. He ignored, he focused, he disappeared…
The Hogwarts Express is moving, and Marcus is trailing after Oliver as they try to find an empty compartment. Eventually they settle on one with another boy in it, unable to find somewhere else to sit.
"Can we sit here? Everywhere else is full." Oliver says, his ass halfway on a seat opposite the other guy as he asks.
"Sure," the boy says, smiling nervously. "Are you guys first years too?"
"Yeah. I'm Oliver, and this is Marcus." Oliver gestures to Marcus, who's by now sat down next to him, who quite on brand only grunts as a response.
"Pleasure. I'm Percy Weasley." Of course, Marcus thinks. The hair should've tipped him off. Percy smiles awkwardly at the two, as if he's already regretting agreeing to them sitting there.
"V qbag yvxr uvz: I don't like him' Marcus says, ignoring the puzzled expression on Weasley's face. It's not often that Marcus and Oliver use their secret language they made up in their youth anymore, but for occasions like these, it's perfect.
"Tvir uvz n punpr: Give him a chance.' Oliver hisses, smiling at the ginger lad, as he shoves Marcus' side. "Naq orunir: And behave.'
As much as Marcus would like to pretend that he acted civil throughout the trip to Hogwarts, he has enough sense to admit that he could've probably acted more accordingly. Whilst Oliver was chatting away with Percy Weasley, Marcus sat staring out the window throughout most of the trip, only giving short and direct answers to whatever questions were posed upon him. Finally being released from the suffering as the train pulled into the station at Hogsmeade was a blessing sent from above.
Marcus followed the voice that called for the first years to follow him, along with Oliver, Percy, and the other eleven year olds who all looked terrified. Only Marcus seemed to feel indifferent about the whole ordeal. The entire trip up to the castle felt like a blur, flashes of moments. Sitting on the boat, Oliver smiling at him like he couldn't quite believe it. Marcus not being able to help the smile he gave back. Getting inside from the cold, being met by Professor McGonagall, who with a stern face told them what was to proceed. In actuality, looking back, the entire sorting experience was quite a blur.
Marcus felt like he was losing the memory. No Flint, think! What happened once you reached the castle. Cold… McGonagall. Coming inside and getting the hat placed on their heads. Percy and Oliver being the only Gryffindors. Marcus, as suspected, being sorted into Slytherin. Why is that night such a blur?
The next day at breakfast, Marcus waited for Oliver by the entrance of the great hall. Soon enough Oliver came down, Percy next to him. As soon as Percy saw Marcus he whispered something to Oliver, and quickly vanished. Oliver though, beamed at his best friend.
"So you survived your first night at Hogwarts, congrats!" Marcus teased.
"Piss off Marcus." Oliver retorted back with no malice.
"Enjoy the slumber party with Weasley?"
"Yes actually. He doesn't snore like you."
"I don't snore!" Marcus said defensively.
"That's what you think." Oliver snickered.
"So. Breakfast. See you after then, before class?"
"I can't believe we can't sit together because we didn't get in the same house. It properly sucks!"
"What do you suggest? I sit with you?"
"Yes." Oliver said before he could think, and although Marcus was only eleven, it made perfect sense to him that Oliver be placed in Gryffindor. Something it would take Oliver himself a way longer time to realise.
"You can't be serious?"
"Dead serious. What're they gonna do about it? It's only a table." and, yeah, it was hard to argue with that logic. So Marcus agreed, and followed Oliver into the great hall.
Detention 3, 20:00, McGonagall's Office
The third day of detention, Marcus and Oliver were forced to write lines. Over and over again. 'I must not start fights', 'I must not start fights', and so on and so forth. Marcus was extremely bored. He spends his days ignoring the life out of Oliver, and for the most part he manages rather well thanks to them being in separate houses. Then detention strikes and it is an impossible task, because as much as Oliver is concentrating on his work, he is also dedicating every free moment to glaring at Marcus. The chaser is refusing to reciprocate. He is not looking, not feeling, he is focused. Really focused…
Marcus Flint has two left feet. At least that's what it feels like sneaking out of the castle after hours. The hardest task for him was probably leaving the dorm without waking anyone up. Terence is a light sleeper and wakes at nearly everything. Today was certainly no different. If Marcus hadn't signaled a knife slice to the throat he was sure the guy would rat him out. He creeps out of the dorm room satisfied.
The common room is empty, thank merlin. Most of the first and second years had learned not to fuck with Marcus by now, but the upperclassment weren't afraid of a twelve year old with an attitude when they knew they could hex his ass out of existence if he got cocky. He found himself longing for a day when he struck fear in every Hogwarts student on sight, then they'd leave him be and that was all Marcus really wanted. To be left alone.
The corridors are surprisingly empty, and Marcus is grateful for that. Sure, he might escape a detention from Snape, but every other teacher was a sure way for punishment. Not that he minded all that much most days, but today he had somewhere to be, and he could not get caught before reaching the pit. Oliver and him had made the Quidditch teams, and they were gonna celebrate.
He walked down the familiar path to the pitch, where he'd spent most of his first year ogling at the Quidditch teams as they played, Oliver next to him doing the same, until someone barked at them to piss off. It's a chilly night, but Marcus doesn't mind, he is used to a chill from the dungeons.
The pitch is empty when Marcus gets there, and he quickly wonders if Oliver got caught sneaking out. His worries quickly eases as a figure starts appearing from a distance. He recognises Oliver's eagerness.
"You managed to sneak out then Wood." It was said more as a statement than a question.
"Wood?" Oliver looked puzzled.
"Yeah, we're on the Quidditch teams now, I couldn't bloody well call you Ollie on the pitch, could I?"
Oliver's nose twitched. "I guess you're right, Flint."
The two boys snicker, Oliver lightly shoving Marcus.
"You're so daft sometimes. Did you know?" Oliver inquired as if it was a debatable statement. "Next thing you'll tell me to not sit with you during dinner."
"You know I'd never do that."
"Do I?" This time it was Marcus' turn to shove Oliver, and the two best friends laughed again.
Before long they were up in the air, commemorating the real reason they'd actually come out there in the first place.
"I can fly faster than you." Oliver challenges, just like he would do when they were kids, and Marcus immediately takes the bait. They fly by the goal hoops, doing laps around the pitch until they're dizzy, but sizing on the other. In the end they call a draw and fall to the grass.
"You've gotten faster," Oliver remarks.
"You're just as slow." Marcus throws some grass Oliver's way, and the keeper reacts by hitting his arm. "I'm just kidding. Your speed is impressive too… for a keeper." Marcus adds, earning another smack from Oliver which Marcus easily laughs off.
"Quidditch teams huh? Who would've thought?"
"You, I hope, considering all the planning you've done for it. Don't think I haven't seen your dream board Oliver."
"It's not a dream board," Oliver defends, "I just like to map out my goals. Gives me a clear path for the future."
"So essentially a dream board?"
"Piss off." Marcus snickers back.
They sit comfortably in each other's silence for a while before Oliver suddenly exclaims. "Fuck."
"What?" Marcus sits up straight from his previous slouch.
"I just realised I have a charms homework due tomorrow I haven't finished yet."
"Wait a second." Marcus bemuses teasingly, "What's this I hear? Oliver Wood hasn't done his homework yet? Scandalous! What would Weasley say?" he makes sure to make a show of his words to really tease Oliver.
"It's not funny," Oliver tries, unable to keep the smile from forming on his face. "Like you've done it." he defends.
"No." Marcus says simply. "But no one expects me to."
"Touché you fuck." And they laugh. Hard. For no reason whatsoever. For the first time that evening Marcus seizes the opportunity to really take Oliver in. He's beautiful when he laughs. A thought which sends a shiver through Marcus, because he shouldn't think like that when looking at his best friend, but holy shit, he can't help it. Oliver is so goddamned… Marcus does not finish that thought.
"Marcus," Oliver lightly touches his arm to draw Marcus from his mind, and his arm goes all warm, his insides fluttering. What the hell is happening to him? "Are you ok?"
There's a part of Marcus that wants to tell Oliver 'no', because what he's feeling is foreign and strange and it makes him feel strange, but the sensible part of him knows better than to say anything, so he settles on a simple, "Yeah." to calm his best friend's nerves. "Sorry, I just disappeared for a moment." Oliver has the audacity to smile at him. The boy is practically beaming, and Marcus' insides are screaming.
"Just don't get stuck, ok? That's the real danger, getting stuck in a place that is not real." And maybe that's when Marcus' kind of had an impulse where he wanted to kiss Oliver. He's twelve, and he's just figuring himself out. His intent is pure. His common sense steps in, recognising that he can't just kiss Oliver all impromptu when he knew Oliver didn't feel the same way. Maybe somewhere there it became apparent that this was something he couldn't tell Oliver, not ever. And maybe along those lines, he internally lost his best friend. Because what sort of person could not tell his best friend something like this?
Detention 4, 20:00, Abandoned Corridor
Oliver and Marcus are scrubbing floors, and holy shit, they were running out of detention assignments for the pair. Filch was only half observing them now, reappearing every now and then into the abandoned corridor to check that the two Qudditch captains were doing their job before leaving.
Earlier that day he'd met Weasley in the library for a tutoring session, and he'd been sure the other boy would ask him about why he was ignoring Oliver so ferociously, but he didn't. He just kept that look on his face that meant he was utterly disappointed, and kept to the school work.
At thirteen 3 things were certain for Marcus Flint.
There was nothing he loved more in the world than Quidditch.
He was never going to give his parents grandchildren.
The second thing was mainly due to the fact that he was into his best friend.
Detention 5, 20:00, McGonagall's Office
Lines, again.
Puberty is one of the worst things that ever happened to Marcus Flint. A time to grow into his teeth, have his voice awkwardly change octave at the worst possible times, and so many fucking hormones, holy shit. Definitely the worst time in a teenagers life. Even worse when one has just recently discovered one's sexuality, and now have to hobble through life praying his pants won't tent. Which they did anyways, because apparently puberty gets turned on by banana peels. It's enough for someone to just gently brush by him, and his body reacts. Yeah… he hates it.
Especially when Oliver insists on being so damn irresistible. Has the audacity to walk around looking so freaking cute every single day no matter what state he's in, drenched in sweat, fresh out of the shower, bed head, it does not matter. Oliver looks good, and Marcus is pissed about it because it doesn't make anything easier for him. Sometimes he has the urge to grab him and scream for him to "STOP BEING SO ADORABLE!" But there's no heterosexual explanation for such behavior, so he withstands.
Marcus' first kiss happened during a game of truth or dare. Another terrible puberty incident for him. They'd snuck in some girls into the boys dormitory to play. 'They' referring to everyone except Marcus, who was adamant on not taking any part in it. As usual he had no say in what happened to him, and he found himself squeezed in between Gemma Farley and Flora Carrow, who both were grinning at him stupidly.
There was a great mix of people in their fourth year dorm, some fifth years, a couple third years, even some second years who'd managed to sneak their way in. The room seemed smaller because of it. Pucey had cleared his throat to get everyone's attention, announcing he'd start, and Bole had argued, because "why should you get to start dipshit?" And Higgs had hit him on the back of his skull gesturing for Pucey to proceed.
"Flint," the shit eating grin on his face said it all, whatever he chose would be hell. "Truth or dare?"
He took his sweet time thinking this through. A truth could really expose him in the worst way possible, a dare on the other hand, although embarrassing would be easier to recover from. "Dare?" Why did it have to sound like a question?
"Oh?" Adrian arched an eyebrow, a glint in his eye. Like he'd been hoping for this. "I dare you to kiss Gemma." The blush that spread on Gemma's face was impossible to miss. She looked like a tomato, and his face wasn't much better.
All around the circle people were whispering, some girls giggled among themselves.
"No way man. I can't just kiss someone."
"That's the game man. Besides, Gemma doesn't mind, do you Gem?" She got even redder, as if that was even possible, her eyes locked on the ground as she shook her head.
"Cmon Flint, don't be such a spoilsport." Higgs interjected, his entrance to the conversation not welcomed. Marcus considered running away, but how would that look? Everyone was already staring at him, he should just do it and get it over with.
It was a quick kiss. And before anyone could react he was out the door. If anyone brought this up again they'd face his wrath. He knew he shouldn't be out of the common room after hours, but he didn't care. He made his way down to the pitch with certain ease, and threw himself on the ground burying his face in the crook of his arm. If he wasn't afraid to attract unwanted attention he'd probably scream.
It felt like he'd cheated on someone even though he most certainly hadn't, because he wasn't in a relationship. The one person he'd want to be in a relationship with saw him as nothing more than a friend, and now every single Slytherin, including the ones who weren't in the room because people were really good at gossiping, would taunt him for the Gemma thing. Maybe it was a bit dickish to leave her there alone to be the sole receiver of the taunting, but Marcus was a selfish prick and it was truly every man for themself in these kinds of situations.
As he made his way back to castle later, he was caught out of bed by Professor Flitwick, who had house points redacted and granted Marcus a detention in the forbidden Forest before sending him straight to bed. Marcus obeyed without arguing. When he got back his dorm was empty, people asleep. He didn't bother being quiet as he got ready for bed. Only Higgs woke, but when he saw who'd disturbed he went back to bed. He knew now was not the time.
The next morning the news of his and Gemma's little lip lock had started spreading among Slytherin's old and young alike. He hadn't actually seen her since the cursed event, but people loved to prophecies their quote on quote "blossoming romance." Felicity Blishwick, one of Gemma's best friends, gossiped loudly among other fourth years, going completely silent as they saw Marcus approach before throwing a laughing fit.
"What's that all about?" Oliver remarked as Marcus sat by the Gryffindor table. He just shrugged pretending like he had no clue. He'd eventually tell Oliver about the evening, and Oliver would laugh because, yeah, Marcus' first kiss was a disaster. A hilarious disaster. For now though, Marcus put marmalade on his toast as he instead tried to steer the conversation somewhere else. Oliver really didn't need to know yet.
Detention 6, 13:00, The Dungeons
Sorting the potions ingredients during a Saturday afternoon was probably the worst punishment they'd had to withstand so far.
Marcus and Oliver have a tendency to spend their summers together. By now the Flint family doesn't visit their estate over the holiday, but Marcus goes alone to stay with Oliver and his family towards the end of summer, and has done so the past two years. The heat is sweltering, and he's laying on Oliver's bed when a loud screech can be heard downstairs. Before he can get up and investigate the door swings open and he's tackled by someone throwing themselves on top of him.
"You won't believe it!" An excited Oliver says, panting from the running.
"What's up Olls?" Marcus' breath hitched as he spoke.
"Hogwarts letter arrived today. Guess what came with it?" Marcus did not need to guess.
"No fucking way." He shook Oliver off himself, and took the envelope from his hand, shaking the badge out. "Holy shit!" He observed the Captains badge with care, before carefully placing it inside the envelope again.
"This is unbelievable."
"Is it though? You've been planning this since forever. We both knew you'd make Captain after Charlie left." Oliver didn't say anything as a response, just stared down at his badge inside the envelope. Too afraid to touch in case it might break.
"By the way, your letter came too. Fingers crossed, right?"
"I'll be right back." He ran down the stairs fetching his letter from the kitchen table, greeting Mr. and Mrs. Wood while he was on it, who both smiled knowingly at him. He ran back upstairs and jumped onto the bed again. Once sitting down he found that he couldn't quite bring himself to open it. Sure, a part of him knew deep down he'd be assigned Captain, obviously, who else? But another part of him feared the worst. What if it wasn't him?
"Go on then, open it."
"Too nervous. You do it." Oliver ripped it from his hands and tore it open with a swift motion, shaking the insides out on the bed spread. AHogwarts letter tumbled out welcoming Marcus back to a new term, as did the obligatory supply list and then… "YES!" Oliver cried. Marcus could only stare in disbelief. Was this real? "I knew it! We're both Captains now, you know what that means right?"
"We're even bigger rivals than before?" Marcus tried to joke, but it came out half-assed, not having quite recovered yet.
"I mean, yeah. But also, one step closer to playing in the pros. They don't pick just anyone. They pick the best!"
Marcus threw his arms around Oliver before he could help himself, hugging him hard. Oliver reciprocated. Physical touch with Oliver always sent sparks through him, but he chose to ignore it, not letting it ruin this moment. "I fucking love you man!" He said without thinking. He'd never actually said it before, even though he'd known for a long time that he did. Not only romantically, but as a friend. Oliver was the best thing in his life, and there was no one he'd rather share this with. He loved him, he was more family than anyone. He was glad to have had it said. It needed to be clarified at least once.
"You too!" Relief. Marcus could practically feel Oliver beaming.
When they pulled away; he noticed how closely they sat, he could practically feel Oliver's breath on his face. He quickly pulled away, feeling how the heat in his cheeks arose, not failing to notice the visible blush on Oliver's face that had also appeared.
"We fucking did it." Oliver whispered.
"Yeah."
"I should probably go down and talk to my parents. I think they know, but as soon as I opened the letter and saw the badge I just bolted upstairs to tell you." His blush increased.
"That's probably a good idea." Marcus laughed, following Oliver down to the kitchen where their news was greeted with excitement and hugs. Marcus was so damn happy.
Detention 7, 20:00, The Forbidden Forest
Every wedding Marcus has ever been to has been the exact same. He doesn't know what it is, but it's like every pureblood wedding follows the same format. As if the wedding planner comes in, ask for your blood status, and as soon as you proclaim your blood pure, they go "say no more" and a wedding is designed.
It's one of his cousins' wedding, marrying someone who's probably close to being her cousin. Marcus is sitting on his chair by the assigned table for them, Oliver by his side. He brought him as a plus one, which had raised some eyebrows, but gone unquestioned by his parents. They were fine with Oliver. He was a pureblood after all, well mannered, always extremely nice to them. His mother in particular was very fond of Oliver. ("He's grown into quite the young man." Marcus had to gag, but of course he agreed.)
"Don't you want to dance?"
"Ollie, not even if you pay me."
"Why do you keep coming to these things if you won't even engage?"
"As if I have a choice." Marcus huffed. "I think they believe I'll get inspired for my own wedding. As if there's anything to be inspired by here. It's all the bloody same."
"When I get married I'm gonna do something personal." Marcus choked on his spit. Oliver and him never really talked about their love lives. Or lack thereof. It just wasn't really their thing. But hearing Oliver talk about the prospect of him some day getting married, well it threw him off.
"What a fancy way to say Quidditch themed." Oliver playfully hit Marcus' arm. "Besides, who's gonna wanna marry you Wood?" Me, he thought before burying it deep.
"Hey! I'm a catch." Oliver defended.
"The missed 'I'm a keeper' joke opportunity physically pains me."
"Ah man, no, let me do it again."
"No way," Marcus laughed. "Moment gone."
"Damn it." Oliver wore a soft smile, one that had Marcus melting in his seat. "What about you?"
"Huh?"
"What's your wedding gonna be like?"
"I'm not playing."
"C'mon mate. Just hypothetically. What's your dream wedding?"
"Must I?" Marcus whined, but one look from Wood told him that, yes, he must. "Ok, fine I'll play."
"That's more like it. Now we're really getting in the festive spirit!" Marcus held back the urge to roll his eyes.
He thought about the question posed. How honest should he be? It's not like he could tell Oliver that his dream wedding was whatever Oliver wanted, because they were obviously getting married, and Marcus' dream was to make Oliver happy. Instead of unraveling all of that, he settled on: "Whatever my partner wants. I just wanna make them happy." He made sure to use gender neutral pronouns, and in a way it felt like Oliver caught onto that, but didn't say anything. "I know what you're thinking. Ah shit, who would've guessed. Marcus Flint has a heart."
"That's not what I think at all. I know you do."
Their last detention was spent in the Forbidden forest. Sunday evening spent with Hagrid. Even worse, they'd been split up from him. Hagrid had taken Fang, and left the two boys to walk the other direction. Marcus wasn't sure it was ok during this time, considering Sirius Black was lurking, and there was a literal fleet of dementors around. Apparently that carries little weight in this situation, and they walked on in silence, Marcus slightly ahead, Oliver trailing after.
"Marcus, we need to talk." The Keeper had caught up with him so they were walking side by side now. As if he'd previously planned what he was going to say and now finally had mustered up the courage.
"There's nothing to talk about." Marcus was surprised to find himself answering after giving Oliver the cold shoulder for so long. He blamed it on the cold. Conversing with Wood was the best way to distract him from the fact that he no longer could feel his hands.
"Of course there is. You've been ignoring me for an entire week. What's going on?" Oliver stopped walking, grabbing Marcus' arm to stop him as well. He missed touching Wood. Being touched by Wood. "C'mon, talk to me. You're my best mate." And that damn look was so not fair, because Marcus got all weak seeing it, and he needed his consciousness right now.
"I am not your best mate." He defensively bit back, as if that would do anything. "Now fucking let me go." He shook himself free and kept walking.
"Marcus, wait up!"
