Ode to Remedy

Act III

Markus sat in bed with his knees pressed to his chest and studied the gathered clouds waft across the evening sky. The shadows were now twice as long as themselves and the sun dipped lower until the trees that lined the lane curled upwards as black silhouettes against the darkening sky. Pools of streetlight illuminated the still avenue, with the exception of faint music playing to lure people into the downtown clubs. A storm of thoughts clashed in the depths of his mind.
Should he have rejected Primrose?
Was he to tell Valentine?
Did he want to tell Valentine?
He ran his fingers through his tousled hair and leaned against the large glass pane separating their messy bed from the chilly outside.
Was Valentine bad for him?
Was he to end their relationship for his own health? The thought sent a pang of fear through his chest and left him empty, as if a rod shot through his ribs and was ripped from him seconds after. He had forced himself to think of this many times, but it scared him to ends every time. Trembling, he looked to the clock overhead, illuminating in the dark room. Markus had been sitting here for hours. Why did it terrify him so? Was it Valentine's health that confined him? He brought his hands to his face, only for his sudden tears to drip off of his fingertips. What would Valentine do to himself if Markus left?

The front door in the other room opened, causing Markus to jump, and the sound of keys being thrown on the counter jingled along with the clink of a bottle being set down. Before Markus could straighten from his spot perched against the window, Valentine stepped inside and flicked the light on, blinking at the sight of Markus.

"Why're you sitting here in the dark?" He asked.

Markus opened his mouth to respond, but his attention was drawn away by the sleeve of Valentine's dress shirt rolled up to reveal blackened skin.

"What happened to you?" Markus asked in return, dismissing Valentine's question.

"Oh, yeah," Valentine began to laugh, "Burnt myself attempting to light a backdraft on fire."

"A backdraft?" Markus whistled and adjusted the t-shirt he had threw on just hours before. "Damn, that's a strong shot."

Valentine had been working as a bartender for the nightclub down the street for two years now. It was ironic that despite the fact that he hated alcohol, he knew almost everything about it and every way to serve it. Markus presumed he disliked it so strongly was because of the many incidents he had witnessed people do while under the influence, or how many downward spirals he had aided to cause because he worked in the very department that people fell to.
Val seemed to notice something nagging Markus because of his lack in tone. His interest seemed absent.

"What are you thinking about?" Val prodded, holding Markus's gaze. Markus hesitated, before turning.

"How cute you look in your waistcoat." Markus only said, waving his hand as he brushed past Val into the kitchen. Valentine spun around and faltered after him, watching yearningly as he swung open the refrigerator door, sighed when he saw Val lingering in the doorway over his shoulder, and shut it.

"I'm fine, love." He resurred with a smile, leaning against the island countertop before him. A glass bottle of rose vodka on the table across the room. His gaze lingered on it for a bit longer than it should have. "I'm slightly weary, is all. I only just woke up."

Val didn't respond. He only stood in the doorway with a frown, his soft brown eyes desirously eager for more than how Markus replied.

Markus chuckled at how much his lover resembled a puppy wagging his tail impatiently for a bone. "I didn't go to class, today. I wasn't feeling good."

"That was the first time you didn't entirely lie to me." Valentine censured.

Markus felt his heart lurch.