Mark took pride in Ethan’s reaction to his playful flirting. He seemed to age like a fine wine. The older he got, the more attractive people found him. Some had been interested in him when he was younger, but it wasn’t until he had success as a photographer for the most part. Many stayed away from him in high school since he failed at relating to them. He used to live so often in books and avoided people. Some boys used to mock him for his glasses.
He’d really only had one childhood “friend” to speak of, but she’d died young because of a rare form of cancer.
At any rate, the awkward boy he’d been no longer existed. He’d become a very charismatic and successful man over the years. He virtually knew no major speed bumps in terms of success until now. He needed to escape from this place somehow, even if he could no longer hold onto his career. It didn’t matter. He’d still find a way to carve out his niche photography. He wouldn’t let it die with the rest of his dreams.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to do anything to compromise your job. A young man like you needs to keep his resume spotless,” Mark said as Ethan helped him to his feet. The intimacy felt strange. Nobody had ever helped him walk like this before. Ethan’s arm was pretty snug around his waist for support, and the hand on his sternum was so near his heart. It was so odd being weak and helpless. Usually, he could use his own strength to cart people around, but now he needed Ethan just to keep his balance.
If he wasn’t so medicated, he’d probably get agitated by his dependence on the other man, but the sedatives and meds kept the anger at bay. Mark also thought it’d be wise to play along with Ethan, as flirting seemed to be a possible way to his heart—and ultimately his trust. “Besides, you’re my favorite nurse. There’s something special about you.”
He continued to listen to Ethan as they hobbled along together, leaving the ward behind. Being in the hallway was a welcomed change of scenery, and being outside would be an even better one. They still had further to go, though. He remained well-behaved, even as his peers in other wards made noise.
“I’m so sorry for your losses. It must be a little lonesome.” The fact that Ethan had no family would make him easier to prey on. He likely didn’t have a big network of friends with how hard he worked, or so Mark assumed. “But it’s good you have so much work to keep you busy. I was the same way.” He hated thinking about his independence and freedom as past tense. Now he had no power and relatively nothing to do for the majority of the day.
The question about his own parents would’ve made him tense if he wasn’t so sedated. Mark kept smiling despite the bitter taste in his mouth. “They’re still with us. They’re farmers in Iowa… And they’re both too stubborn to ever think about selling the farm no matter how old they get.” He shook his head, his smile disappearing without him realizing. “They’ll probably end up dying there.” He didn’t go too far in depth. He didn’t like talking about them. They were about the only people who didn’t recognize his success as a famous photographer.
Mentioning that one’s parents were likely to die in their home seemed an odd statement to make. Ethan wasn’t sure how to go about responding to it. I mean, what do you say to something like that? ‘I’m sorry’?
After a moments hesitation, he decided upon “Better there than dying in a facility. Staying at their home gives them more independence.”
In retrospect, that probably wasn’t the most tactful thing he could have said to a man who currently couldn’t even walk without help. Speaking of which...
He didn’t find it at all difficult to guide Mark across the room and through the hallway, nor hold him upright while he swiped his key card to let them outside. All those altercations with Butch and his gang had done wonders for Ethan’s upper body strength.
They had to go through a total of three doors before they reached the one leading to the yard. Security here was tight, as it should be. You didn’t want to have the residents here - some of whom were criminally ill - escaping and wrecking havoc on the locals, though it was unfortunate that people as intelligent and articulate as Mark suffered the same loss of autonomy as people taken from prisons, people who’d raped and killed and assaulted their way into a padded cell. It didn’t seem fair.
It was a nice warm day with clear skies and a cool ocean breeze that could be felt the moment one stepped beyond the facility doors. Ethan led Mark over to a nearby bench so he could sit and enjoy the weather.
Seating himself at Mark’s side, he withdrew a packet of tictacs and emptied a quarter of the container (otherwise known as ‘an excessive amount of tictacs’) into his palm, handing a few to Mark and dropping the rest of them into his mouth.
“So...” He regarded Mark with curiosity. “I don’t mean to pry, but are you not on good terms with your parents? Because that’s the impression I’m getting.”
Well, he did mean to pry, but you always had to say ‘I don’t mean to pry’ to excuse your nosiness.
