Wow! Thankyou to Robellia, Heather, Megane-Nato, BunnyFleur, AlteaAuroraRia, Kufuffelupagus, MarsMonster, XxCapturetheLightxX, NearThe End (long review :D), Nayunari 'Ayu' Tsuki, WayRoundWrong, motolokiev and ADashOfInsanity for reviewing! You all make my day!

As you may have guessed, back from holiday now :) It was lovely... Missing the mountains and winding roads already. Slight delay in posting I know, sorry bout that, but hope this chapter makes up for it... (and there's a little more to come after)

The following morning arrived slowly, the sunlight weak and reluctant. Marth rolled out of bed and got changed. He had the day off today, but Roy would be at work and he wanted to get to the café early so that they could talk before the customers began to pour in.

Yawning, he descended the stairs and greeted his cat before padding tiredly into the kitchen to get breakfast for them both. He felt suspended in a state of weariness beyond apprehension – he was past nervousness now when it came to thinking of Roy. It felt like a part of him had hardened like a scab. If he picked it would he find love pouring out? A tiny, sceptical part of him even wondered, as you do with scabs, if he was just picking if for the sake of it.

He finished breakfast and put on his trainers to leave for the café. Some energy returned to him and he felt more enthused, for want of a better word, to go on with his task. Yes, he would tell Roy how much he meant to him; surely Roy would come back to him then. Roy had wanted Marth in the first place after all. He repeated this to himself as he headed for the front door. But just as he opened the door to leave an unexpected flash of brown caught the corner of his eye and he turned around.

A brown package sat unopened on the stairs. Marth had to think for a moment before he remembered how he got it. Ike had given it to him – a leaving present before he went abroad. Marth had been too preoccupied to open it before and now he was too busy. He hesitated for a moment, his hand jerking towards it but then jerking back again as he remembered his urgency to see Roy. He had to leave now – aargh! – package… At the last moment he grabbed it before leaving the house. When he had a spare moment perhaps he could open it.

He arrived at the café quicker than planned, his heart pumping at full speed as he burst through the main door. Samus, who had been wiping down one of the counters, looked up at him in surprise.

"Marth? You're here early."

"Um, yes. I-Is –"

"You're not working today are you?"

"N-no."

"Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"What's that package?"

"Oh…nothing." Having frozen just inside the door Marth now took a deep breath and moved towards the cashier.

"Is Roy here?"

Samus gave him a long look which at that moment Marth failed to interpret.

"No he's not."

"Oh. Is he ill?"

She shrugged, then paused and gave him another long look. Marth assumed it was a sort of concern, and muttered,

"I guess he must be at home then," before turning and heading back out the café.

Outside he sighed and reassessed. This early disappointment had somewhat unsettled him and the adrenalin he had built up now made him feel shaky. He paused a moment to repeat the task to himself, reset his feelings. But without much further ado he began to head for Roy's house.

The streets passed by as he power-walked, the crowd moving around him in a blur like robots. Then there was the familiar smell of his favourite hotdog stand, quickly followed by other smells – bread, fruit, flowers, doughnut… Then shop after shop: clothes, accessories, stationery, and endless attention-seeking sales labels vying for attention. He ignored it all until a flash of blue made him freeze – heart skipping, breath catching, head turning – but it was for nothing, and Marth had no idea where the feeling had come from, its source now long out of sight. He walked on. The end of town drew closer: bins, litter, and endless pavement. It seemed like everyone else was going the opposite way – mostly workers, using the town as a bypass to other places rather than for leisure. He continued to walk until some red graffiti caught his eye and he froze – legs weakening, palms sweating, stomach turning – but what for? It was only graffiti! It was like a switch had been hit in his subconscious, only to be flicked off as soon as he looked at it, leaving no evidence. He walked on, confused, preoccupied. He had to reach Roy. The town ended with only trees and parkland to go. It was much more peaceful here, with only birdsong to accompany his footsteps. Squirrels, buttercups, dandelions. A few ducks, a river, a…straw hat… With a jerk he twisted around, stopping – eyes widening, muscles tensing, spine shivering – but he had no idea why. The more he reached for it the more elusive the thought became. What had he seen? It was as if a vital link had been stolen from him, leaving only a frustrated ghost in its wake. He sighed, irritated, unable to place it. For a moment he hesitated, but he couldn't afford any time to think about it and walked on towards Roy's house.

A quarter-hour later he was standing in front of Roy's front door, hand held ready to knock. But flashbacks made the final movement hard to complete. Last time he had been at Roy's door… last time he had seen Roy… Come on, knock. But he couldn't do it. You're being stupid. Come on, knock. Still his hand wouldn't move.

And then the door opened all by itself.

"Oh! Marth." Roy, startled, jumped back a little. "I, er… was just going out to get some milk…"

"Um…Roy?"

"Hmmm?" Roy's eyes flitted over the scenery behind Marth without looking at his face. Eventually he settled on looking down at his feet. This only added to Marth's nervousness.

"I, er…" For a horrible moment he completely forgot what he was going to say. Then he swallowed, recovered. "I do like you, you know."

Roy exhaled loudly. "Marth…" He looked up and Marth quickly looked down.

"It's just… I know I haven't been –"

"Marth."

"I know I haven't been that affectionate, and maybe that's why… why you –"

"Marth." Roy stepped down from the doorway so that he was standing in front of Marth. "Look at me."

Marth's stomach turned uncomfortably.

"Marth. Look at me."

Such a simple thing to ask, why did the thought make him feel unsteady? What could happen if he looked at Roy? Nothing. He was being stupid. Come on, raise chin…that's it…now eyes…Oh god, he couldn't do it. Why was Roy asking him to do this?

"Why do I have to look at you?"

"You speak like they're rehearsed lines. I can't tell if you mean it."

Fair enough. Marth took a deep breath and slowly raised his eyes until they met Roy's. Roy's expression was steady, waiting for him to speak, but his gentle gaze cut through Marth like a knife. There was nothing harsh in the expression; only a sort of tiredness overlaid with a carefully constructed openness and a tinge of sadness. But it hurt, it hurt like burning. This was the man that had taken years to properly talk to him, and then rushed things in a matter of weeks. The man that had given him such a nice time but then pressured him for more physical contact when he didn't want it. The man who had wanted to be with him and yet…and yet…cheated. And in his gaze, despite the depth of it, there was one feeling decidedly absent. Compassion.

"You bastard." The words were bland, but bland like the end of a sledgehammer. Roy looked taken aback. Marth was surprised by his own emotion. The lines that came spilling out of him now were anything but rehearsed.

"You cheating bastard! I thought you cared for me! You… you played me for sex – did you even like me? You know I'm glad we never got that close. You – you fucking bastard!"

Roy stared at him in shocked silence.

"Always chatting to me, being nice, taking me out! It was all just to get me into bed, wasn't it? Well you didn't succeed! I…I…I DON'T WANT YOU!"

The words ripped themselves from him – perhaps always known deep down, but never thought, never voiced. Roy heard him in silence, carefully composed. When Marth stopped there was a long, highly charged quiet, broken only by Marth's heavy breathing.

When Roy finally spoke there was an unusual edge of respect to his voice.

"You won't be seeing me at work any more, don't worry about that. I've already quit."

"Quit?" It was only just a question. The dull surprise died under the burn of Marth's anger.

"The discussion I had with Samus in the office… I was angry. I knew I hadn't short-changed your sister, I suspected she'd staged it on your behalf. Samus asked me why I might believe that, but it was rhetorical. She knows I…we…I haven't always been honourable. You won't see me at the café anymore."

Marth recalled Samus' expression that morning in the café. It made sense now. She had been sparing his feelings, unsure how he would take it, not knowing if Roy had already told him. Well he knew now. His reply was quiet but as barbed as a security fence. "Quit, or were fired? Don't make it sound like you've sacrificed your job on my behalf. Not always honourable? Fuck off, Roy." And with that he turned and walked away.

It was only after he'd gone halfway down the street that the full impact of what he'd said finally sunk in. He'd set out to make up with Roy. All it had taken was one look in the eye… He had lied to himself, covering it up, patching it over – but in the end the stitches couldn't hold. Hopes, wishes, dreams stacked on the wrong person, on an ideal. And now he'd thrown off that hope forever. And…and it felt good.

He walked without much thought, the adrenalin carrying him on. At the back of his mind he knew once it wore off it was all too likely he would hit a terrible low, but right then he didn't care. He walked on past rows of houses, walking until all road names were unfamiliar and even his sense of direction was fading. On and on past abandoned shopping trolleys, dog walkers and lawn-mowers until quite unexpectedly he turned a corner and found himself facing a large and beautiful park.

It was separated from the houses surrounding it by only a low black fence, but the divide might have merited an eight-foot brick wall. It was as if all life had been sucked out of the surrounding houses and then poured into this unexpected Eden. It was a mix of carefully trimmed winding hedges and tall wild oak trees, of hothouse-worthy pot plants and asymmetrical pools of wildflowers. And yet the place had a unity to it of colour and texture, and couples and families alike strolled through peacefully. There were several benches scattered throughout and Marth picked a particularly charming spot beneath an arch of climbing roses to rest. Some bees buzzed in the nearby lavender and Marth watched them as he collected his thoughts. Thoughts of Roy, of loneliness, of how he was going to deal with it. What had he done? He hadn't meant to yell like that, but it was done now and beyond repair. It felt initially like a lot to take in, but after only a few minutes his mind went surprisingly numb and he lost himself staring at the scenery.

After around half and hour of just sitting and staring Marth noticed a couple approaching from around a hedge, obviously looking for a bench to sit down. Feeling that he didn't need to stay any longer Marth rose to give up the seat, remembering at the last minute to take his package with him.

Remembering the package.

He'd forgotten it whilst lost in thoughts of Roy, but with the package in his hands he recalled the other task he'd set himself for today – say a proper goodbye to Ike before he went abroad. Of course it might be fruitless now – it was all too likely that he'd already left.

Marth examined the package absently as he walked slowly out of the park. It was tied simply with string. About time he opened it really. With a thumb and forefinger he tugged the string loose and then pulled the packaging free.

It was a painting, of course. How could Marth have thought it could be anything else? But he hadn't thought about the content of the package at all really, not until now.

He knew instantly the moment it had captured. His own face smiled back at him, eyes sparkling with happiness. Light strands of hairs flapped gently around his face, sunlight streaming through the outer edges. The painting had framed him down to the collarbone and behind him a perfect blue sky completed the warm mood of the piece. It had been captured when Ike had asked him to freeze in the field just days ago. Such stunning realism – but of course, Ike had a photographic memory. Holding it Marth couldn't help but be reminded of the first portrait Ike had given him and was suddenly struck by the inadvertent gesture of trust – Ike had known that he'd sold the first portrait, to give him another now… Well, Marth wasn't going to sell this one. He would show the appreciation for talent that Ike deserved and go and thank him for it right now.

The sense of purpose seemed to lengthen his journey – or maybe he'd wandered further after his meeting with Roy than he'd imagined – but at length he was standing outside Ike's door. Ike's van was still in the driveway – he hadn't left yet. It looked like Marth had been lucky. As he raised his hand to knock, however, the bright colours of the painting he was holding caught his eye again and he hesitated to look at it once more. He looked so happy in the painting, caught in a moment of pure relaxed joy. But it wasn't just that… There. Dimples. What was it with dimples? Elisse had almost told him. She'd said he only had them sometimes. Well he'd had them when Ike had called and asked him if had them, he knew. And he'd had them on their day out to the field… He traced the painted cheeks with his finger. So what – he had them when he was very happy? But then why hadn't Elisse said as much on the phone?

He looked up from the painting and knocked on the door. No more dawdling. But if the dimples just meant 'very happy' then why had Elisse never commented on seeing him smile with them, or Roy? He was generally very happy when he was with Elisse but she had said most of the time he didn't have them – but he had them with Ike…

Ike wasn't answering the door. Marth knocked again. What if smiling with dimples…meant more…

Ike still wasn't answering. Marth took a few paces back from the house and looked up at the windows, his mind buzzing with different thoughts and feelings. And there – the top window on the right. Ike came in and out of view, pacing behind the window. If he just looked down he would see Marth there – why wasn't he answering the door?

Marth knocked again, but he could still see Ike pacing without the slightest indication of heading downstairs to let him in. Just look down! I'm not a salesperson! He hesitated a moment, then an ironic idea came to him. Ridiculous of course, but… He bent down and lifted up the doormat. A single silver key lay underneath. A ghost of a smile flitted over his lips as he picked it up and slotted it into the keyhole.

He stepped quietly into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Sure enough, Ike had been alerted by the sound of the front door opening and was now standing at the top of the stairs.

"Marth?"

"You keep your spare key under the doormat."

"Yeah." Ike smiled and descended the stairs. He was topless again, as ever, and leaned casually on the banister at the foot of the stairs as he waited for Marth to continue. Marth held up the painting as if in explanation.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I… wanted to wish you well on your travels as well."

"Ah. Thanks." Ike nodded in acknowledgement. There was an awkward pause. Ike shrugged. "Do you, um… want to have a drink or something?"

Marth shrugged, oddly tense. "Sure."

A few minutes later Marth was admiring Ike's lounge once more as he sipped his coffee. Ike sat beside him on the sofa with his own drink, looking a little awkward. Marth smiled at him.

"You really don't sit in here a lot, do you?"

Ike shook his head.

"It's the most beautiful room!"

"I suppose so – and for that very reason the least practical." Ike leant forward a little, wrapping his hands further around the mug as he turned to smile at Marth. "How's Elisse and co?"

"Oh, wonderful. I saw her the other day, she seemed very happy – the baby too." He relaxed as he went on to more detail, calm under Ike's listening gaze.

"Must be wonderful to have a sibling you get on with so well," Ike commented.

"It is." Marth nodded.

Ike paused. "You look a little bit like a milkshake – are you alright?"

The odd statement made Marth smile. "What? Like a milkshake?"

"Yeah." Ike shrugged. "You know, shaky."

Marth shook his head, half-laughing despite himself. "I'm…fine."

Ike frowned slightly, looking at him with softly concerned but amused eyes. "What's funny?"

"Milkshake?" Ike had just compared him to a cold dairy beverage and somehow it made him feel a lot better – how did that work?

"Yes," Ike agreed. "Strawberry, I think."

How could he say such odd things so seriously? There was only a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, more as a response to Marth's reaction than his own comment.

"Strawberry," Marth repeated. It was a world away from his conversation with Roy. Ike nodded, taking another gulp of coffee.

"Do you have a problem with strawberry?"

"No… I like strawberries. I've always wanted to grow them, actually," he mused. "What about you? I would have thought you'd be more of a bonsai fan."

Ike laughed. "Ah, them. No, it's the plants that are the hardest to tame that are the more beautiful for their wildness." There was a current of passion to his voice that seduced Marth almost without him being aware of it. He shifted to face Ike more fully.

"Beauty is wildness?"

"Or shyness."

"Like afraid?"

"More timid."

"Sad?"

"Blue." And as he said it he leaned closer and looked straight into Marth's eyes. Marth looked back; and pinned by Ike's own deep blue eyes, caught in the moment, he was inclined to agree.

"Blue like your eyes," he whispered without thinking.

"Like beetles." Ike smiled.

Marth remembered the karaoke night when Ike had painted a blue beetle on his cheek and smiled back. "Like sky," he added.

"Like your hair."

"Like… What?" He pulled back with a jerk, suddenly realising what Ike had said and the look of tenderness as he'd said it, and in leaning back he also realised how close they had been sitting – when had that happened? No, this wasn't right… He stood up and turned away – only to see the painting of him smiling where he'd put it on the floor beside him.

"Dimples." The whisper escaped him before he could check it.

"Yes," Ike answered from behind him, having stood up as soon as he did.

"You know what they mean."

"So do you."

No, he didn't… but he did… Yet it couldn't… yet it was. Marth hesitated, then began to head for the door. Roy, Ike… He had to get out of there. It was too much. But just before he could reach the front door Ike pushed in front of him, blocking his exit.

"Marth." His tone was gently commanding. Marth looked up helplessly, his heart skipping dizzily.

"Yes?"

But Ike didn't continue straight away. After a pause of several seconds however he resumed, "Um… It'll probably be easier if I show you. Follow me."

Marth hesitated, his breathing uneven, but then followed Ike as he headed upstairs before turning into his bedroom.

Ike halted just inside the doorway and Marth stopped beside him. It didn't seem obvious what he was meant to be looking at but when Ike didn't move or point anything out he assumed he was missing something obvious.

The room was essentially blank. The furniture was all neat – there was nothing on the floor or the bedside table, and the whole room looked recently cleaned. It was a little odd actually on reflection – there was nothing artistic in the room at all. Just a single closed suitcase sat on the bed. Marth turned to Ike.

"What were you going to show me? There isn't anyth– Wait." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "If you're already packed and ready, why haven't you left?"

He raised his eyes to Ike's and some part of him, a mix of fear and hope and understanding, formed a connection in their gaze. Ike turned and held Marth's shoulders gently, smiling. There was resignation and humour in his face as he said,

"I'm a fool for you Marth."

Marth could only look back up at him, heart throbbing.

"I planned to leave yesterday," Ike admitted. "There was no reason to delay my departure…apart from you." His smile widened, his eyes soft. "I haven't known you long I know…"

Marth shook his head as all the lost parts of his mind found their way in Ike's eyes. All the confusion on his way to Roy's – Ike was the missing link.

"Time doesn't matter." He'd known Roy long enough, look how that had turned out… Years counted for nothing. And yet when he looked at Ike – he felt like he'd known him forever.

Ike raised one hand and brushed Marth's cheek gently with his fingertips.

"I don't want to go abroad without you."

"Don't go," Marth whispered.

Ike laughed. "If it was a matter of choosing between them I would stay in an instant. I love you Marth."

Marth swayed a little at the words but was warmly unsurprised. Somehow he knew – this was as it should be. He looked back at Ike and found himself smile in response. How long? How long had he confused feelings for one for feelings for the other? It was Ike, not Roy, he loved.

"But surely I don't have to choose," Ike continued. "Come abroad with me Marth."

Marth stalled. "I…I can't afford it."

Ike raised an eyebrow. "Not even £5000?"

Marth blushed. He'd almost forgotten about that. Ike just smiled, the event obviously long forgiven. Then he leant in slowly, his bare chest rising and falling quickly with each breath. With one hand he stroked Marth's cheek, closing his eyes as he moved even closer. And then with a soft sigh he closed the final gap with a kiss. Marth responded without thinking, looping his arms around Ike's neck and pulling him closer.

"I thought we'd forgotten about the red paint incident," he whispered.

"Never."

Ike kissed him again, pulling Marth even tighter against him and slipping a thumb under his shirt, brushing his hot skin in invitation.

"I love you," Marth sighed softly. Ike pulled away slightly, and raised an eyebrow – a question.

Marth took his mobile out of his pocket and switched it off before throwing it to one side – an answer.

From the very first portrait, from house paintings, eccentric sleeping patterns and toplessness – had Marth always loved him? Ike kissed him again and Marth slid easily into his arms, knowing it was where he belonged. From the first beetle to the last dimple, from the café to the field, always a warm glow in his heart, a space saved for Ike. His top slid off slowly and Ike's warm hands held him as they moved towards the bed. From the undercurrents in punting to the blossoming of the rose that was placed in his hair – the picture of the painting, the natural chemistry of coincidence. Everything leading to here, to now.

Ike stroked his cheek and kissed the nape of his neck, his love plain in each action.

"How does Venice sound?"