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Words:1129 Game:Detroit:Become Human.
__________ Markus remembers. __________
You could feel his smile as you tickled the keys of the piano. While your father was painting -adding a few touches here and there- Markus kept his eyes firm on you. He basked in the way you gracefully played 3 Gymnopédies: No.1. After all, it was a beautiful song that suited you perfectly. Therefore, he couldn't take away his green orbs when you finally began. You made music that seemed to bleed into his soul and pump his blue blood faster around his body. He was enchanted by everything that involved you; (Y/N) Manfred.
And as he was drowned beneath the piece of classical, he didn't notice the ending of the song or the way your eyes drew to him. There was a secret stream of words that pulled you to him, that pulled him to you.
"Is there anything wrong, (Y/N)?" Markus asked with his voice monotone yet still holding an unknown emotion.
"Nothing Markus, I was just wondering if you wanted to play too" you smiled before he stood and strode toward you.
His movements of standing, walking and sitting were so precise and light you couldn't take your eyes off him. Never in your life did you think somebody just being close to you would cause butterflies to erupt in your stomach.
For that whole afternoon, you practiced with Markus, teaching him simple chords until he requested to learn your favourite, Claire de Lune.
With a curl of your lips, you hesitantly placed your fingers above his own and acted as if his hands were your own. You moved with him to the somber song and let yourself be dragged beneath the wave of artificial emotion, it wash over your body with a shining glee. However, it didn't feel man made. Nothing so beautiful, so serene could feel false. And thus, you gladly rested your head against his shoulder while he took over, allowing you to close your eyes. You allowed his ocean to pull you under, you gave it the clearest permission.
Markus could feel the warmth radiating off your form. He could hear the small exhales of breath and see your lashes stroke against your rose-tinted cheekbones. His attention was on you, you had captured the android fully. And nothing could change that fact.
And as he played faster, filling the notes with something more. He could hear the faint whistle of your soprano voice.
However, it eventually grew louder, it burst it his silicone eardrums and brought him away with a loud exclamation of-
"Markus!".
Carl had called him to bring the coffee he was boiling in the kettle. His mind had unknowingly wandered as he stood waiting for the hot water. And his owner knew why.
While Markus made his way to the studio with the steaming beverage, the android couldn't help but draw his eyes to the piano. He sometimes expected you to still be sitting there, waiting for him to attend his daily lessons. Yet, you were no where to be seen, only when he rode the bus sixteen minutes could he see you, your headstone casual with its epitaph but unusual with the sculpture placed behind it.
After he had placed down the drink, did Carl finally smile down at him while suspended in the air against a canvas of blue and red.
On the normal day, Markus would refuse to turn his head to the painting, knowing what laid upon the contradicting colours, those depicting blue and crimson blood.
"Will you ever look up to see her?" Carl questioned, pulling his question from the sea of wonders.
"I do not understand what you are asking me" he replied placidly.
"She looks beautiful-" he announced before sighing at the picture, "- she would've screamed at me, would've been so embarrassed to see herself in such a state... (Y/N) is not here however, so she's at the mercy of my brush" he joked faintly.
"I suppose" Markus said, answering Carl as programmed.
"Yes..... You are excused Markus".
And with that, the android bowed his head slightly before exiting to the sitting area. The tune of Claire de Lune suddenly haunted him as he walked through while resisting the temptation to peek at your ghost.
He could imagine what you looked like beneath the pale hue of death. Ripped clothes, blood and that carving of those horrific words.
Android Whore ...
You were only walking to Bellini Paints, collecting new colours for your father. And he had only left you for minutes near those protesters. But, they must've saw you together in the dark corners of the world. Where you left kisses on the cheek, where the connection of pinky fingers hid... The odd look of adoration.
Markus shivered at the potent memory. His whole body was a reminder of what he never wanted to relive.
Sometimes, it felt like he could watch it unravel before him. Watch the scene frame by frame of how they tortured you, stripped you of your clothes like the winter gnawing at the light. They were the grey clouds to the starry eyes you possessed. The fog against the windows.
"Well, I'm done for the day Markus. Would you mind cleaning up my supplies. I can get ready for bed myself",
"Are you sure Carl, I could always-",
"It's been a long day-" he sighed interruption, "- and I would prefer to be alone for a while". He continued before making his way around the android. And Markus couldn't talk back after he witnessed what sat behind the man's eyes. It was a grief that shook any creature.
Markus made his way to the studio with a unpredicted reluctance in his step. He had immediately remembered what was upon the canvas as the door came into his sights. And even if he had never gazed on it, he gave an educated guess as to what it could be.
But, he had to enter despite that. Even with the thoughts of her laughter while in the image of joy, Markus still couldn't fight his programming. Therefore, he entered with a lump filling his throat.
As he picked up the paints and brushes, he was forced to colour the blank canvas sitting in his mind. There amongst the outside world was you, lying against what he could only call raw purity. You were dressed in strokes of crimson while looking down on a sea of Lithium blue, one which faintly revealed a male's distorted body. You were reaching out and so was he, you were attempting to grab onto a hand coated with synthetic caramel skin as he strained to capture the light you held.
He finally coloured it in that instance....
It was a picture of an immortal you with an immortal him.
