Broken Things || Rowan & Marco
That thirst that had hounded him for the past week or so was all but gone. For the moment, at least. He was quite content to be sitting here on this mild night, watching Rowan draw. These moments of contentedness were all too few in Marco’s life, and he drank in the moment as well as he could. The sketchbook looked well-used and Marco itched to look through the other drawings Rowan had made, though he stopped himself.
The witch could relate to Rowan’s loneliness. He had thought that he liked to be alone, but he had learned that was not entirely true. He hadn’t known what true loneliness was like until he was hunted down over and over by the beasts on the Island of Man. No, he hated being alone, but was forced to be regardless.
Marco was disappointed when Rowan stopped drawing. He wished he had just kept his mouth shut and let the moment continue. It was too late now and the witch silently sighed. “You ruin everything,” a voice whispered in his ear before he could push it back into unintelligible whispers.
But then the disappointment turned into excitement. Not the lustful excitement he felt every time he looked at the vampire. It was an eagerness to learn everything about the man next to him. He didn’t want to use the knowledge for anything in particular, but he just wanted to know the man. Really know him. He stayed silent as the vampire spoke about himself, not wanting to break the spell that had him divulging his story.
Marco mirrored Rowan’s smile and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course it’s important. If your friendship was anything like me and Oli…He was the only family I had as a child. My parents-” He didn’t like talking about his parents. He barely told Alivander what happened, although he certainly knew what had happened when Marco ran to him sobbing with a swollen eye or a bleeding nose. “They beat me daily. Without Alivander…well, I would have killed myself long before the voices–” Marco cut himself off, fearing he had said too much.
He put on that smile he saw on Alivander all the time, trying to cover up the pain in his eyes, although Marco wasn’t nearly as skilled as his friend at covering it up. “I’ve reunited with Alivander since I’ve lost him. Perhaps you can find your friend again.”
Most days would see Rowan shying away from such familiar touches. But when Marco placed a hand upon his shoulder, a tentative calm settling between them, Rowan was too greedy, too weak to break away.
How rare was it for another being to touch him? One that he hadn’t paid or meant him harm, that is. His mother’s lips against his forehead, his father’s warm palm upon his head -- all those fond memories, and the feelings associated with them, were slowly beginning to fade. All too soon he would forget them, just as his kindred did. And then what would he have to find solace in? The companionship of whatever whores could bare his company.
But here was Marco, a hesitant smile upon his face, offering Rowan something he had so desperately needed. And the horror of it was he hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed it. This simple touch, this display of platonic affection, had Rowan instantly craving more. So how could he ever pry himself away now? Now when he remembered just how good it felt to feel as if someone cared.
He could only take comfort in Marco’s touch for so long, though. Soon, as their conversation turned toward Marco’s sordid past, it seemed as though Rowan was the one offering support. He could sympathize at least with the awful upbringing the witch had endured. While his own parents had been protective and loving, it seemed Marco’s familial ties were far different.
He could see young Marco in his mind, eyes cloudy with tears as pain overwhelmed his small form. What family could do such a thing to their own child? And for what reason? Rowan doubted he could ever understand such actions, but as Marco’s memories began to filter through his mind, he realized such questions were best reserved for a later date.
Concerning himself with Marco’s awful memories, the fledgling attempted to press calm and peace into his troubled mind. He mirrored the weak smile offered to him with something more genuine, hoping that the witch would feel at ease, for now at least.
“I’m glad that you had Alivander at least. Though what you went through no child should ever have to endure.” It seemed Marco’s entire life had been misery after misery, though. No wonder the grasp with which he held onto his sanity was so weak. Why, it was a damned miracle they could sit and have a normal conversation at all.
And that gave the fledgling some measure of hope for Marco. Though it would be a difficult path, perhaps Marco stood a chance of finding help for his issues. Rowan could only offer so much with what small amount of magic he possessed. But there was hope for Marco, he was certain of it.
He wasn’t certain that he could say the same for himself.
At the mention of his long lost friend, Rowan’s smile became bitter. “I did find him,” he said. “But I doubt our reunion was anything like yours and Alivander’s.”
He could remember the night with vivid clarity. The anguish, the pure hatred that had rolled of Rory had nearly choked him. How could he ever hope to forget? But Rowan didn’t know why he’d expected anything else. He’d betrayed his best friend, left him to fend for himself and become... Become someone whose affections he had to pay for.
“I have to pay my best friend for the pleasure of his company,” the fledgling admitted. “Company he would never offer me if I hadn’t the coin. He hates me, and rightfully so, after the way I abandoned him. So our relationship...it’s strained at best. At worst... At worst I’d deem it a mistake I simply refuse to stop making. But I never did claim to be a smart man.”
