And darling, we’re in the nightmare
@failedmission || plotted starter
They made time for each other regularly, but life, at times, had a way of closing in. Markus doesn’t know whose idea this had been. There was no credit to be taken for it, but he does remember asking, out of the blue and somewhere in the dead of night, tracing patterns into the small of Connor’ back (‘Go away with me.’). They were both dedicated to their work. There was value in it, meaning. But it had taken little convincing to decide on this trip.
The cabin they’d chosen was almost four hours from Detroit. Sequestered in woods that broke onto gravel paths, snaking back to a central lodge. The interior was nothing if not comfortable. Furnished, clean, and brightly lit from windows pouring in sunlight. There was a queen sized bed (which Markus had every intention to use well) in the single, wide bedroom. The fireplace was framed in marble, and though well-worn, the couch made up for in length for what it was in leather.
Markus was beaming, as they situated their belongings inside. He’d had few opportunities through much of his life to indulge his fondness for the outdoors, but this particular trip made up for any lost time.
The fridge hummed in a reassuring sign that it worked, well, and when Markus tested the stove top it leapt to life without delay.
“What do you say to an early supper?” He asked, hooking an arm around Connor’s waist. “I’m starving.” He teased as he stepped close enough, to press a kiss to Connor’s hairline.
