Guard My Heart [ManxMan]

.one.

Who do you guys picture for Marco and Ortiz????

O R T I Z

I had just been shown to my room, where I would be staying with another guard. When I walked in the room there was a small living room open to the kitchen and a small dinning room. Then there was three doors in the wall, leading to two rooms and a bathroom.

I didn't have any clothes or belongings, just the same clothes I had been wearing for the past month.

I decided to just walk straight to the bathroom, not caring about meeting my roommate, I didn't even know if he was there.

When I saw myself in the mirror I almost cringed. My eye was bruised pretty badly where my opponent had punched me in a sparing match. My lip was still busted too. And even though I looked and felt like shit, I had one the fight.

I pulled my shirt over my head, grimacing at the pain in my side. There was a nasty bruise on my ribs and I think I cracked one, which would explain why it hurt when I tried to take a deep breath.

I ignored the other bruises and cuts littering my body as I stripped of my clothes and got in the shower, not really caring that it took almost ten minutes for the water to heat up. I found some body wash and shampoo in the shower and washed my hair and my body, loving the feeling of finally being able to wash away all the dirt and grime after being stuck in a concrete room or a gym for a month. Going through my training.

I was able to take showers, but some of the other men training to be guards would take forever and I was too impatient to wait so I only got about five showers that whole month.

The training was vigorous, pushing me physically to my limits and refreshing my memory on hand to hand combat. Shooting was something I didn't need a refresher on, it was the one thing I would never forget.

The hardest part of the process was the mental training. They had to test where your loyalties lied, if it wasn't with the Di Mercurio family you were shot on the spot.

I turned off the warming water and dried off with the white towel hanging on the towel rack before wrapping it around my waist and walking in one of the other rooms, hoping my roommate wasn't in it.

Thankfully no one was in the room so I walked to the large dresser and opened the drawers to find boxers, shirts and pants in my size.

I dropped the towel and slid on a pair of boxers and pants, pulling on a shirt before walking into the small kitchen, surprised to find some food in the fridge and cabinets.

I took a apple from the counter and decided to sit on the couch. I knew I should have been asleep, I would have to wake up early to take a shift at the gate. But I was hungry and part of me at least wanted to see who my roommate was.

About halfway through my apple, a man walked in, looking blank faced and as if he was thinking about something.

He glaced up at me as if finally realizing I was there half way to his room.

He had light brown hair unlike my black hair, his skin was a light brown a little lighter than my own.

His cheeks were a bit hollow, his jaw line sharp. His face was clean of bruises unlike my own and I wondered how he could have managed that.

His eyes were something I didn't expect from his dark features. They were light blue and striking against his complexion. I studied the rest of him, he was thinner than me, like he didn't get a lot to eat but he was still muscular, probably from the training.

I stopped staring and spoke up, "I'm Ortiz."

"Marco," he introduced himself simply.

He seemed busy in his own mind, too busy to say anything else.