At the insistence there was nothing to fear, Marko had been about to retaliate, an anger igniting in dark eyes once more. His life had always been full of fear; from his father, from the church…the world as it was wrecked by war. Fear was constant, suffocating, all he had ever known from one source or another. He wanted to yell, to scream at David that there was so much to fear in the world…
But that kind, gentle smile stopped him, doused his anger in a second. Because David looked so sincere in what he said, as if he truly believed he had nothing to be afraid of and was imparting some kind of grand wisdom. His strange new friend was trying to help him. So, he focused instead on the question given; ‘what are you looking for?’
He could’ve avoided thinking about it. He could’ve said ‘I don’t know’ and he done with it. But there was something about the weight of David’s words that had him pause. Really…what was he looking for? To leave, yes, to run as far from home as he could. But…what now? What was it he wanted for himself?
He’d had ideas before, of course. Marko had realized some years ago that he quite liked sewing and crafting; his first act of rebellion had been learning to sew from some ladies and patching up an old coat by himself. He liked the monotony of the task, it let him block out the rest of the world, and to create something with his own hands. So, maybe he would do something like that.
He thought of his romance books, another rebellion. There had been a bookstore near his house that sold them, and younger Marko, so desperate for escape, had made a purchase he knew his father would scold him for. Men didn’t read those things. But he’d hidden the book well, under some floorboards near his bed, and each night he would read it. He would get lost in the passion, the declarations of an undying, infatuated love, the fantasy of someone telling you they loved you more than the stars themselves. He wanted to experience romantic love like that, for someone to cherish him so deeply.
He had often imaged that someone as a boy, as well. It had terrified him at first, how often Marko envisioned himself in the woman’s place in those stories. Then, how frequently he had looked at other boys in the same way he did girls. The church had told him he was horrible for those thoughts, that if they didn't stop, he would be destined for Hell. He didn’t want to be frightened anymore.
Then, he thought of himself. How his father had always found something wrong with the way he looked. His hair was never allowed to grow below his ears, despite Marko’s insistence he wanted it longer, despite begging his father to just let him grow it out. He hadn’t been allowed earrings or makeup, even though he’d become fascinated by what the girls in town wore. He’d been told to get stronger, to build muscle, only praised when he displayed his more masculine side. It was what was expected of a man, his father had said, and the priest of the church had agreed. Apparently, anything else was 'ungodly.'
Finally, he thought of the blonde still with an arm around him. He couldn’t remember the last real friend he’d had, or at least one that hadn’t looked at him with pity. David didn’t pity him; he looked at him like he was an equal, like he genuinely admired him. He wanted…to keep the warmth in his chest he felt with that arm around his shoulders. He wanted to keep seeing that soft smile, wanted to ask his new friend so many things about his mysterious self.
What was he looking for? What did he want?
He wanted all of it. To craft, love how he wanted, wear what he wanted, to be able to cry without disapproval and to maybe finally have someone who cared for him. Who loved him.
So finally, Marko had his answer. His voice came out stronger than he’d thought, surprising himself. “I wanna be happy. I want freedom, I wanna live.”
