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Fantasy RP Take Him, Then the World (Firestarter)

Az squeaks and lifts the blanket from his head, looking up at Marco. His eyes slide over the other's body, admiring and then away, tossing the blanket over the man. His face heats, and he was glad there was no one to have seen his slow appraisal of the man or his subsequent reaction to the flush on his face. He looks back down at his book, shuddering and rubbing his hand over his face to banish the blush.

He had noticed the scar, and he was curious as to what had caused it. A fight? An attack? What would leave such a wicked scar upon such a strong facing man?
 
Marco grumbles softly in his sleep. He wasn't really saying any actual words, sounding more like frustrated noises than anything. The sight of such a dangerous man sleeping like a child while mumbling odd noises would make anyone laugh. Marco smiled and chuckled softly in his sleep before finally shutting up.

After a few more minutes, Marco slowly opens his eyes and yawns. It might not have been a lot of sleep, but it felt amazing to Marco. Slowly, he raised his arms and stretched out the last bits of sleep. He didn't even notice the blanket or Az's presence until he lowered his arms and accidently rested his hand on top of the boy's head.

Marco instantly pulled his hand away and sat up as if someone threw ice water on him, looking down at Az on the floor with a fully flushed face and wide eyes. "Fuck, I didn't even know you were there. I-im sorry I touched you. Did you need something?" He was so focused on Az, that Marco forgot he was shirtless and that his scar was visible.
 
Az was enjoying the book he was reading and didn't notice Marco stirring until he felt a hand on his head. He squeaks softly, looking up from the book and up to the larger man. Surprisingly though, he doesn't flinch away from the other's short lived touch, only staring up at him with wide, dark brown eyes.

Az was unsure how to feel at the touch, it still caused the burning, prickling sensation under his skin, but not so back his muscles locked up and sized with fear and panic. Not so much he flinches away with a violent growl. He blinks once, wondering what that said about him and this man.

This man who had literally kidnapped him and pinned him to the bed just a few hours before, all in an attempt to get Az to eat. As well as the shot, that shit had scared the fuck out of Az and now he was letting Marco touch his head, if accidentally, without flinching?

He blinks once, "What? It-It's fine. You didn't know I was there. . . Not your fault. . ." He scoots back along the floor slightly, bitting down on his full lower lip.

"No. I was walking around and heard you crying out. I covered you and say down in case you fussed again. No one deserves a restless nap." He shrugs slightly, standing up and setting the book on a small table, "Besides, it's my job to serve you and make sure your comfortable."

He rolls his eyes slightly.
 
Marco flushes a little more before nervously clearing his throat and scratching the back of his head. "I uh...well, thank you. I...didn't know I was doing that." Marco looks away from Az out of pure embarrassment, something he hadn't felt since he was a child. How did this small, frail boy make Marco act so differently than how he normally does? Marco would've beaten the shit out of anyone who dared be near him while he slept, but with Az he felt....comforted. He liked the idea of Az being there to make sure he was sleeping peacefully.

He was confused at the idea of him crying out in his sleep. Marco was normally a silent sleeper, so the fact that Az said he was crying out in his sleep made him worry about what he was saying. "Az uh...don't feel that you have to do thay for me. In all honesty I...don't even know if I could really make you clean this place like I originally stated."

After seeing how weak Az was earlier, Marco felt horrible for tasking the boy with cleaning the mansion. There was no way he was going to be able to push through all of the cleaning without passing out.

Marco looked down nervously and finally noticed that his scar was on display. Marco's eyes remained glied to his own scar for what felt like ages, remembering the day he got it and vowed to never let it happen again.
 
Az nods once, "Yeah, it's nothing." He clasps his hands behind his back, watching the other male for long moments, gauging his response. Az sighs softly, taking a few steps back and shaking his head slightly.

"It's fine, nothing I couldn't do. Like I said, everyone deserves peaceful sleep." He frowns slightly, wondering what had plagued the man so much he was crying out. Though Az clearly remembered the words, he was still curious and still wondering. What had happened to this man's mother to make him scream like that? "I'll do it again, to.

"I can clean perfectly fine. Don't concern yourself with me. I haven't fallen over yet, and I don't plan to. I've been going to school, holding down a job, and taking care of my father's apartment by myself for years."

He lifts his shoulder in a half shrug. It was true, Az had dedicated most of his time and energy to school and work, trying to make enough money to keep a roof over his head. His condition had only gotten worse two years ago, and he has yet to pass out or collapse. He supposed once one was used to little amounts of food, the body got used to it and focused on different things. And it wasn't like Az grew up eating three square meals a day.

(Just get a little meat on those bones and he'll be pretty enough to swoon all those politicians for you Marco- XD)
 
Marco gulps and clears his throat softly before finally pulling his eyes away from his sscar. The fact that Az was acting like everything was fine even though the boy couldn't even keep down a nutritional shake baffled Marco. How had this boy managed to up hold the life he had in such a condition? "If you really feel fine enough to do all that then....I guess you can still go about the cleaning. Just, take your time. I don't want you rushing through anything alright?"

Marco slowly stood from the couch and instinctively covered his scar with his hand. He wasn't proud of it and didn't want to dis0lay it as if it was kind of trophy. He keeps his head low while maintaining a small distance from Az. He didn't want to make him uncomfortable since he was shirtless.

"I'll uh...be in my office if you need anything." Marco awkwardly steps back before turning and slowly walking towards his office. The blush on his cheeks wouldn't go away and the fact that Az had seen him in such a vulnerable state was only making it worse. All he could think about was the fact that he was crying out in his sleep and Az had seen all of it. Marco wondered what he had been saying and prayed that it wasn't something embarrassing.
 
Az watches for long moments, his brown eyes soft and curious, almost gentle. He runs his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends slightly and then shakes his head again, "I'll be fine." He crosses his arms over his chest and closes his eyes for a moment.

"I don't rush cleaning anyways, if you do, you're most likely to miss things."

Az managed to keep his gaze on Marco's face or shoulder, though he knew he wouldn't mind another look at the man's abs or tattoos, he didn't think it was on his place to stare at the man. Regardless, Az had liked the tattoos, and his mind has offered up an image of tracing one, which Az had immediately discarded. He could never be intimate with another person, especially a man. Though, that never seemed to stop Az from looking at people he found particularly attractive.

Az tilts his head to the side slightly, acknowledging the man's words before turning slightly and walking in the opposite direction. He presses the backs of his fingers to his cheeks, hoping the gesture would cool the heated flesh. His body always seemed to be out of his control, no matter how hard he tried otherwise. Blushing, puking, hot, cold or maybe even a hard on? Barely even there, but fucking hell.

His face fell into a scowl as he scrubbed his hands at his cheeks, growling under his breath. It happened so rarely these days, but there were just some people that Az looked at and then he would have another problem on his hand. One he would have to deal with and one he would rather not have to deal with at all. Sex had lost it's appeal after the first assault, and after the second, he'd hated the thought of even being attractive to people. And maybe that was why he couldn't eat, because who the hell would want an unhealthy partner who could pass out in the middle of it?
 
once in his office, Marco releases his hold on his scar and clenches his fists, cursing himself for looking like an idiot in front of Az. Marco didn't even understand why he was feeling this way in the first place. Ut wasn't like Az would ever let him get close. The boy backed away just because Marco had woken up for fuck sake. He had just wanted to be able to at least have a conversation with Az without the boy feeling the need to cower away in fear of being touched.

Marco sighs and rubs a hand over his face before walking over to the closet within his office to grab a new shirt. Unfortunately, the only shirt he had in his office was a tight fitting button up. "Damnit...." Marco slipped into the shirt and buttoned it up for the middle of his chest, it being the highest the shirt would close before slumping down in his chair.

Even though he had a lot of work to do to get the ball rolling for his take down of the government, Marco's head was plagued with thoughts of Az. His hair had felt so soft in Marco's hand when he accidently touched it earlier, making Marco want to run his fingers through it gently. That would never be more than a dream at this rate though. He wanted to find a way to help Az feel more comfortable, especially with him. He didn't just want the boy's help woth his plan anymore. Marco wanted to be able to spend time with Az like a regular person.
 
Az wanders around, exploring the last three rooms of the large home. He huffs softly, the house was already pretty much spotless. There would be almost nothing to do to get it clean. Maybe a little dusting, and cleaning the actual furniture, but beyond that, everything was clean. He wanders to the kitchen, supposing the cleaning supplies would be there and was right when he opened a small-ish door to reveal a small closet with brooms, a mop, a vacuum, and a shelf full of cleaning solutions.

He asses the items in the closet, nodding once and then closes the door before swiftly exiting the kitchen. The smell of the food, even though none was being cooked, made him sick. He was determined to keep down the smoothie and not get sick everywhere.

He makes his way back to the room he was staying in and pauses, staring at the bed before turning and walking away from the room and going to a smaller, quieter room. He flops onto the floor, staring out the window for long moments, enjoying the quiet space.
 
After sending out his top boys on their designated tasks, Marco slumps back in his chair. Now that he had delighted the work to most of his thugs, Marco would finally get a few days of peace from his constant planning. He new that it was still going to take months for any large movements to be made in regards to his grand plan, but it still felt good to know that things were slowly getting started. It was about tome he show this country what he was all about and claim the power he so desperately wanted.

Marco turns in his chair looks out the window, admiring the clear sky and warm sunlight. It had been a while since he had the chance to just sit back and not worry about something. He could feel himself itching to do something he hadn't done in a long time. With a soft sigh, Marco slowly stands from his chair and walks out of his office and towards a small room that was secluded from the other bedrooms.

The small room was lit dimly and had red curtains. A very romantic style room compared to the very well lit rooms throughout the rest of the mansion. As Marco enters the room he pushes the door lightly closed, leaving it cracked just a bit while walking to a small black case that sat in the corner of the room. It was covered in dust from the many years of being untouched. Marco gently opens it and slowly pulls out his most precious procession, his mother's old violin.

It was the last thing he had to remember her by. Marco forced himself over the years to learn how to play it in honor of his mother. She used to play the violin for him when he was little. He hadn't played the violin in so long, trying to grow past his pain of losing her so many years ago, but after having that dream about her earlier, Marco felt a desperate need to pick it up again. After tuning the strings and readying himself Marco starts to play his mother's favorite song, Tartini Violin Sonata in G minor, "Devil's Trill Sonata"
 
Az closed his eyes, leaning back against his elbows and breathing evenly. He didn't know if he could go back into that bedroom and not remember what had almost happened to him again. He had never gone back to the locker room, or that alleyway, avoiding the area and violent memories that tended to assault his mind.

His head tilts to the side, a faint sound starting to fill the house. It sounded like. . . Music. A small smiles curls Az's lips and he closes his eyes, listening to the song quietly.

Clearly a violin, and someone obviously good at the instrument. He sits up from the floor, blowing his hair from his face before standing and walking from the room. He follows the music towards the source and pauses outside the door, just listening to the beautiful instrument.

He taps his fingers lightly on his thigh, the long, bible digits tapping out a simple counter melody that would boost the tune from the violin, and flourish in the few beats of rest the melody had.

He hesitates before turning and pushing the door open slightly and leaning against the door frame. He blinks once upon seeing Marco, but otherwise stays silent as he watches the man.
 
Marco's eyes remained closed with his movements being full of grace and emotion. He had practiced this song for hours throughout the years, hoping to sound perfect for his mother. He had awarded practicing the violin the moment his mother had gotten sick. His plan back then was to play her favorite song to make her healthy again. The childish wishes of a niave boy.

Just when he had built up the courage to play the song for his mother, it was already too late. That image of how Marco had found his mother that day still haunted him. If onky he hadn't been such a wuss. If only he had gone home a few hours earlier instead of talking with his friends. Marco might have been able to say good bye and play his mother one final farewell song.

Marco's playing intensifies as he fills each nite and crescendo with his heart and soul. He was playing as if the music would bring his mother back to life if done with the right amount of heart. He turned and dipped and paced as he played, as if performing a ritual like dance for his mother. Even though the lighting was dim, it still managed to shine brightly off the tears that were streaming down his face.
 
(I mean. . . We put it in fantasy, so I mean, don't rule out the future possiblity of an appearance.)

Az watches the man, his brown eyes following the movements and fingers still lightly tapping his thigh. His head tipped to the side and rested against the door frame, his eyes falling closed at the beautiful, yet emotional, music.

He swallows once, his free hand wrapping around himself and holding onto his side. Not a pained movement, but an emotional one himself, as if he could hold onto the music.

He opens his eyes again, watching Marco play.
 
(XD true...a spiritual appearance would be a beautiful instance of closure for Marco)

Marco squeezesbhis eyes closed tightly as his tears continue to flow freely down his face. Even.though he knew it was that damn illness that killed his mother, he still felt like it was his fault for not being there sooner that day. How could he have been so stupid to waste his time with some friends who ended up causing more problems later on in life. If only Marco had known, things for him would be different.

His mind raced with memories of his past. Times he had spent with his mother. Things he wished they had done before her passing. The time he had wasted with his friends. They way they betrayed him afterwards. Everything fell down on Marco's shoulders at once.

As the song finally comes to an end, Marco holds out the final note before falling to his knees, still holding the violin and bow loosely in his hands. His shoulders slump forward and his head hangs low as he quietly sobs.
 
Az watches quietly, monitoring Marco silently. He breathes out an even breath with the final note, enjoying the closing of the song.

He blinks when the man falls to his knees and moves forward slowly. Instinctively, his hand reaches out, fingers brushing through Marco's hair. "Shhh. . ." He whispers, watching the other.

Az had never been able to resist seeing someone else in pain, his own heart tending to cry out and wan to sooth. Most times though, he fought this instinct, finding it bothersome. Just like he didn't like people touching him, he didn't like touching others. But he felt that Marco really needed a tender touch, and Az could give it, if only for a moment.

He pulls his hand back, away from the other man and looks at him. He frowns lightly and then crouches before the male, "Marco. . ?" He murmurs, murmuring the man's name for (I think?) The first time.
 
Marco slowly lifts his head with a completely and utterly broken expression. His eyes were red from crying and his breathing was shaky. It looked as though all the pride and strength that Marco normally had was washed away with his tears. For the first time since his mother's death, Marco let himself crumble into the sad and lonesome little boy he once was.

Marco let's go of the violin as his hands start to shake. A small hint of fear had managed to fill his heart as he looked into Az's eyes. The last time he was this vulnerable in front of someone else....it didn't end well. The only difference was that it was Az. This boy was the only person who had somehow managed to both see Marco's scar and his vulnerability in the same day without instantly taking advantage of him.

Marco tries to speak but his voice fails him as he stares into Az's eyes. He didn't know what to do or say, just feeling lost of hopeless.
 
Az swallows, the pain he saw in Marco's eyes, the loneliness. . . It mirrored the look Az had every time his father had yelled or hit him. The look he'd had for months after his mother had walked out. Az could hardly look at himself most days for fear of seeing his dead gaze staring back at him.

He'd felt broken and alone for a long time, and nothing he'd done had fixed it. The few friends he'd had somehow never filled the hole that had formed the day his whole life changed. The screaming had been especially back, his mother had yelled at his father for leaving Az at school and not picking him up. The man had decided to go to a bar and drink with his friends instead. His mother had thrown clothes into a suit case and taken her car that evening. Az never knew why she hasn't taken him, and he'd desperately wished she had.

It was the next day his fallen had fallen to gambling and drinking. He'd blamed Az for his wife's leaving, and Az had paid the price of something he hadn't done.

Az stares at Marco, and then blinks once before gently catching the instrument before it could hit the floor. He brushes his fingers over it lightly and then sets it back into the case, nestling the bow along side it.

"You don't have to say anything, Marco. . ." He murmurs softly, "I understand. I don't know what happened to you, but I can see the pain in you gaze. And I understand."

His brown eyes lift back up to Marco's face. He didn't think the man needed codling, no. . . It seemed like Marco needed someone who could understand, and not take anything from him. Validate his emotions,ake him heard.

"You don't have to tell me anything, you don't need to say a word." He closes the case, carefully flipping the clasps to hold it close. "But. . . I can listen if you need to talk, and I can. . . I can hug you if you need a hug."

Az swallows again, staring at his hands. He knew exactly what he was offering, and while it scared the ever living shit out of him to say it, he still offered it. "I mean, it probably won't be much other than a quick squeeze, because let's be honest, trauma doesn't just vanish no matter how you feel." He flashes a small grin, making the small joke in an effort to make the man on his knees in front of Az feel something other than the unending sadness that Az could see in his gray eyes.
 
Marco took a small breath, exhaling a little heavier than he had planned while looking back down. He had almost expected Az to kick him while he was down, repeating the same insults his supposed friends had once told him many years ago. The gentle and heart felt words that came instead helped to calm Marco down.

There was only one other person who saw a small portion of this side of Marco, after what his "friends" did to him, and that was Alfonso. He was the right hand man to Marco's father years ago and remained loyal to Marco when he took over. Az, however, was the only one who saw this much of Marco's vulnerability.

Marco slowly lifts his head back up to Az, wiping away his tears and giving a very small smile to the boy. "Thank you, Az, but I couldn't dare ask you to fo something you aren't comfortable with." Marco's voice was still full of pain and was soft, being just above a whisper. "Thank you....for putting the violin away and....thank you for helping to calm me down."

Marco let himself fall back on his butt and loosely wrapped his arms over his knees as he looked at the violin case. His heart throbbed with regret as he remembered how much his mom used to play that exact violin. "If uh....you are comfortable with in....can we close the door? I...don't want anyone else to see me like this, but I...don't want to be alone right now."
 
Az looks at Marco for a long moment, "Do you think I would offer it if I didn't think I could do it?" He murmurs, reaching out slightly and lightly pressing the tips of his fingers to Marco's knee.

"You should know I don't say something I don't mean." He pulls his hand back after a moment, staring at his fingers and chewing on his lip. He felt his throat close for a moment and then nods.

"I-It was nothing." He stands, walking to the door and pushing it closed. It was the same hand he had touched Marco's hair and knee with, even the same one he'd brushes the man's hair away just a half hour before.

His eyes burned and his throat was tight as he swallowed. "I was fourteen. The first time." He rasps, his words choked slightly.

"This kid would bully me all the time. Me, and some of the other smaller boys around school. He was a senior, and liked to use his age, size and superiority over us. My mom used to call me her little bundle of fire wood because I was smaller, but always blazing. I never laid down without a fight and would almost always come home with a new bruise for my troubles. One day, I lost it and told him. . . Told him he's just gay and repressing it by beating boys he wanted to screw."

Az could clearly remember the shock and then rage on that guy's face. The glint that filled his hard blue eyes and the moment a hand came around his throat, thick fingers pressig his airway.

"In short, he told me I was right, and then raped me. I went home that afternoon looking like a trainwreck. My father didn't care, no matter how many times I told him. I couldn't get out of bed for a week. Without my father pressing charges, all the school did was expel him. After all, my boy was proof enough that it actually happened. Some fucknut decided to leak the story to the news, some teacher who wanted to seem like a saint or something."

Az could remember the shame and embarrassment when he'd gone back to school. He'd watched as his own friends turned away, disgusted and spread false rumors about himself. That he'd asked for it, that he had started it. Az had to live with it the rest of his highschool years. It never went away.

In those next few years, Az didn't touch a single person, never looked them in the eyes. Hell, he'd barely spoken outside answering questions from his teachers. But that was it. He still had his sexual desires and tendencies, he still felt plenty attraction towards both males and females. It had still felt good to please himself, though he knew something was missing from it.

But it wasn't until he was sixteen. He'd been walking home from work one evening, and he'd heard footsteps behind him as he cut through the usual alley to get home faster. As Az knew the other man had seen, Az didn't live on the good side of the tracks, and predators were abundant.

Az had looked over his shoulder and seen two men, fully grown, large and maybe mid thirties. When he'd looked forward, he saw the third. He'd fought for his life and barely won.

After that was four months of court trials and press hounding him. He'd been let off as a minor, and the case was closed as self defense.

Even since, Az couldn't touch, or be touched. He couldn't look at people the same way, always mistrusting. He'd lost his sense of physical attraction to almost any person. At that point, pleasing himself hadn't felt good, and more like a chore. Something to do to try to feel better. No surprise that it didn't work.

He looks away from his hand and turns, facing Marco, "I couldn't stand touching anyone. My skin. . . It burns, and it feels like tiny needles stabbing my nerves under it. But. . . I didn't feel that earlier. Maybe a slight unpleasant buzzing, but nothing repulsive." His head tips to the side and he swallows.

"I don't know what it means, and that scares me."

(Okay, so- question, as this is a fantasy thing, do we want there to be magical connections between people? Lite fated partners?)
 
Marco listens silently to Az, hanging on to every word as if it was the most important information he would ever hear in his life. Having the file on the boy was one thing, but to hear Az's side of the entire story and learn how he had felt in the situation was another. Az had gone through too much at such a young age, and it disgusted Marco. He was even starting to regret not torturing that fat old fool more now that he knew just how little the "man" had cared for Az.

Marco wanted to tell Az that he had sent his boys out to deal with the prick who first ever touched him back in highschool, but based off of his reaction to the situation with James he figured it was best to leave that as a secret. "Az I....I just don't want you to feel pressured to touch me just because I've turned into this...blubbering mess. If I had known just how badly it affected you, I NEVER would've done what I did back in the bedroom."

Marco was horrified by his own actions in the room now that he knew what Az had truly endured. Even though his intentions were to help the boy, he didn't have any right to act the way he did. He could only imagine what had been going through Az's mind in that moment.

"I.....I don't know what it means either Az. I wish I could tell you." Marco looks down at his own hands and slowly opens and closes them, imagining if he had the same feeling that Az did to try snd better understand the boy. "I'm sorry for what I did in the room. I might have been trying to help but I still shouldn't have done it. It's just....."

Marco let's out a deep sigh and closes his eyes for a moment. "It's just that you are showing very similar signs to what my mom suffered from when I was young. She...she used to be so full of life and laughter. She would brighten up any room that she walked into. When I was about 10 years old, she quickly fell ill and lost more than half her body weight." Marco shuddered as the memory of how she looked towards the end of her life.

"That violin....was hers. She used to play that exact song every...single....day. It was her favorite song. When her health declined, I forced myself to learn how to play the violin so I could play that song for her. I just wanted to see her smile again." Tears started to stream down Marco's face again as he looked down. "I was stupid though. I chose to talk to people who I thought were my friends at the time and was late coming home. By the time I got home, she was already gone....lifeless in her bed. I never got to say good bye to her."

Marco grabs at the sides of his head and fights back the urge to break down. He was already embarrassed enough as it was.

(OMG YES! I love the idea of fated partners!)
 
( : D )

Az shakes his head slightly, leaning forward, staring intently into Marco's eyes, "You don't compel me to do anything I don't want to. You should definitely know that. You had to get me here kicking and screaming. No one makes me do something I don't want without using brute force. I've seen plenty of blubbering people and never once offered them a hug. But I'm offering you. . . for some strange, fucked up reason. Seriously, you should be someone that makes the burning worse, not lessen it." And he should be someone that Az wouldn't start getting a hard on just by seeing his abs. Az had seen plenty of male abs and hadn't felt the slightest thing in the last three years, and this man had done things to Az that would normally make Az hate, despise, a person. And yet. . .

None of the people who had hurt Az had once apologized. Granted, three of them were dead and six feet under, but still. He hadn't seen any remorse, any regret. And yet, as he stared at Marco, he could see both in the man's gray eyes, and the apology. Az closed his eyes and his head dropped, bowing. Az hadn't known the kind of closure an apology could give him. The comfort or understanding. His fingers curled slightly into the floor and he whispers, "No one's ever apologized to me." He looks back up to Marco, he gaze sliding over the man's face before settling onto those gray eyes. He wondered if Marco knew how much his silver gaze gave away about his emotions.

"I understand why you did it. . . And. . . I didn't force myself to get sick. . . I was- I was having a reaction to that- that guy and my flashbacks." He chews on his lip slightly. Every time he'd been brought back to his memories in a violent way, he'd gotten sick. It was how he forced himself to get sick most times, to thrust his mind back to the past, to rewatch the life drain from those men's faces, or the glee in Ashton's gaze as Az cried. He shakes the thoughts away, "I finished it, and it tasted like shit. Really, like shit. But. . . it helped a bit."

Az hadn't felt nauseated in the last hour or so, and it was nice. it felt good to be able too move around and not want to clutch his head and grasp onto something to steady himself. He didn't know how long it would last, or if he'd be able to drink that shake again, but a relief from that pain felt so good.

He keeps his gaze on Marco, watching the other man. He didn't know why he felt, maybe not quiet safe, but calmer, in Marco's presence. Sure, he still felt in urge to pummel the guy's face in every now and then, but he felt calm and assured. That this man wouldn't intentionally hurt Az, that he would try to stop someone else from hurting Az. He had seen a small about of self blame when Marco pulled James off of him, at the fact that someone had hurt Az. He wanted to know why the man's touch didn't repulse him, why he could touch the other without wanting to hiss in fear and pain.

Az's soft features fall into a soft frown, "I'm not deathly ill, Marco. I'm not bedridden and I've been like this for almost five years. I haven't lost any weight for a few months, maybe because there's not much left to lose, but still. I'm not dying." Az was confused. Why would Marco care so much if Az lived or died. Was it the traumatic experience of his mother's death or something else? It had only been a day since Marco had dragged Az kicking and biting out of his apartment, they shouldn't have this strong of a connection between them. It was unreasonable.

Az smiles softly, "It's a beautiful instrument. The wood could use some care, and maybe new strings. But it's beautiful." He runs his finger over the case, contemplating for a long moment. He looks up at the other, still smiling slightly.

"I think that's a wonderful gesture, Marco, and don't blame yourself for what happened. I tend to believe that prized possessions tend to have a piece of the soul of their owner. If your mother loved this as much as you say she does, then I'm sure she could hear that song. It was beautiful, Marco, anyone would be insane not to love it." He takes a moment, before walking back over to the man and getting down on his knees before him.

He reaches out, once again brushing a stray lock of hair from Marco's face, watching the movement before looking into his eyes. He gently, slowly if Marco whished to pull away, grasps the other's wrists and carefully pulled them away from his head, "It is okay, Marco, to feel the way you do. And if you need to cry, cry. I won't judge. I'll sit here and listen if you want, or I can go, but you're not alone." He brushes his thumbs over his palms, letting them swoop back and forth slowly.

"And, if you need a shoulder to cry on, I'm okay with that." He murmurs, his thumbs still moving slowly.
 
Marco closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of Az's touch on his hands as a pleasant tingling came with each swipe of his thumbs. There was definitely something about this boy that drew Marco to him. He had only known Az for a day or so and yet, Marco felt such a strong urge to protect and coddle him. Certainly there was something that could explain what he was heeling and why Az wasn't affected by him in the same way other people affected Az.

"You deserve much more than just an apology from those who have wronged you Az. You deserve to be treated with respect and to be cared for and loved." Marco wanted to see Az striving, not suffering from his past. It was helpful for him to learn that Az wasn't necessarily going through the same thing as his mother and was able to finish the shake, but he was still worried."

"I can't say I blame you on the taste of that shake." Marco let out a soft chuckle. "I had to drink it for almost a month straight even with food to rebuild my strength after...." Marco cuts himself off, being worried about talking about how he got the scar on his ribs. He took a shaky breath as his eyes glanced down trying to sneak a glance at his ribs but failing epically.

Marco clears his throat softly and looks back up into Az's warm eyes. They reminded him of his favorite chocolates. He could stare into those eyes all day and never get tired of them. "I never thought of it that way when it comes to my mother's violin." A small smile creeps across Marco's face. "Whenever I play it, I feel like she's watching me or even dancing to the song like she used to do."

Marco sighed softly and shook his head as he looked down for a moment. He wanted to pull Az into a tight hug and bury his face in those luscious brown locks of hair, but he didn't want to make Az uncomfortable. The boy might have said he didn't do anything he didn't want to and that he didn't feel pained whenever he touched Marco, but hugging him in such a way was a different situation. "I....I would really enjoy a hug, but I don't trust myself to let you go when you need me to. That's what I mean when I say I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."
 
Az kept watching his thumbs move, grazing over the rough skin of Marco's palms. Az would bet the rough patches of skin were from calluses, and he liked the feeling. The smooth occasionally interrupted by the rough. He looked up at Marco again, swallowing once, then twice at the other's words. "Well. . . Not many people feel or think that way, Marco. . ." He whispers, his voice ragged and wounded.

"Who would want to love someone who causes everyone else problems?" His head tips to the side, "Why would anyone want to love a broken person who's more trouble than he's worth?"

The corners of Az's lips curl ever so slightly, "So you agree? Like shit?" He asks, inclining his head forward ever so slightly. His grip on the other's hand tightens slightly, a comforting squeeze, a reassuring. Az was here, and wouldn't let something happen.

"Love is a.wpunderus thing, it connects people through anything and everything. Even through Death."

Az huffs softly and stand, letting go of Marco's hands and moving to stand behind the other, wrapping his arms around Marco's shoulder. Az was tense, his heart rate accelerating swiftly to a rapid pace. He seemed ready to leap away any moment, but he was hugging the other, so that was something. "Save that bullshit for yourself." He grumbles.
 
"You would've been laughing your ass off at my reaction to that fucking shake, Az. I would throw a fit similar to a child everytime Alfonso brought that shit to me." Marco chuckled lightly and shook his head before gazing in Az's eyes. "You're lucky he gave you the thinned version. He used to make it really thick and almost paste like. I used to call it toxic sludge because that's how it looked."

Marco's eyebrows furrow a bit as he thinks about how disgustingly cruel those people were to Az. He wanted to find each and every one of them and force them into an apology, but they wouldn't truly mean it. They would just do it to end the torture Marco would put them through.

Marco smiles as he feels the tightened grip from Az. It was making his mind relax while also sending more tingling sensations through his hands. He wished he could do this with Az more so he could enjoy the other's soft touch. He just hoped his rough hands weren't appalling to Az. He had been through so many fights and dealt with so much that his hands were on the verge of turning into sandpaper in Marco's opinion.

Marco freezes and his eyes widen as he feels Az's arms wrapped around him. He couldn't remeber the last time he had been held, even if it was a slightly tense hug. He huffs a small laugh and slowly raises one hand to gently grazed over Az's forearm. His fingers gently grazed over the boy's soft skin, feeling like fine velvet to Marco. "You are not a broken person, Az. You've just been horribly hurt by too many. You are worth more than you think." Marco every so gently squeezes Az's forearm and leans his head against the other's. "There is someone who would love you like no other and always make sure you are safe." Marco mumbles softly, almost too quietly to hear. He was talking about himself if he was being honest. He didn't understand it, but Marco felt a deep emotional connection to Az, wanting to show him just how special he really was.
 
Az laughs, his head tipping back slightly and his arms tightening around Marco's shoulders slightly. "If that old bat ever tries to give me toxic sludge, I'll shove it down his throat." Az grins slightly, his chest pressing into Marco's back. It felt. . . Strange being this close to another person. Strange, but also. . . Good. Like he was experiencing something her had been missing.

His forehead drops to Marco's shoulder, and while he was still incredibly tense, he still seemed to be slightly comfortable. It would take a long while for Az to be able to handle this contact and be relaxed, but he hoped, that maybe. . . Maybe he could, and maybe he would come to crave it. It had been so long since he'd felt any kind of affection, he'd been numb to the loss.

Az sucks in a breath to the touch on his arm, the lean muscles under his skin jumping slightly. He stays still, his breathing heavy and ragged. Panic started to rise in his chest, an unwanted pressure building and he let out a choked sound.

Yet, he still doesn't let go or move away, inside his was battling it. That panic, trying to reign it in, master it. After long moments, his ragged breathing became slightly steadier, no longer panting.

He blinks once, his forehead still on Marco's shoulders, "I am broken, Marco. What kind of person can't stand to be touched? What kind of person looks at someone and feels nothing but repulsion? I'm not-not normal." He whispers, his fingers curling and his nails dig into Marco's skin, once again leaving small, red, crescent moon line in the other's skin.

"I don't deserve someone to love me. . ." He whispers, "I'm a prick to everyone, and I don't even try to get to know people.

Az didn't understand how someone who he had thrown insult after insult at could be kind to him, or even care. And for the past nine years, that's all he had been. A raging ball of hate and anger, and pain had been added when he was fourteen. He'd spent that time taking it out on others, and honestly, of he met himself, he wouldn't like him either.
 
Marco huffs another small laugh and closes his eyes, relishing the in the feel of Az's chest touching his back. "I can't say I'd blame you, but please don't hate Alfonso. He is a natural father figure to everyone younger than himself." In all reality, Alfonso had been more if a father to Msrco than his own father. It wasn't that Marco's father was a bad father, he just physically wasn't there, always traveling and handling deals with other mafia leaders.

Marco gently grazes his finger tips over the back of Az's hand as the boy digs his nails into Marco's skin. It didn't even hurt Marco amd even if it did, the rusted hunting knife that was stabbed into his ribs all those years ago hurt more than anything. "You are more than normal Az. I would be worried if you didn't react like that towards people after what you have endured." Marco keeps his voice calm and soothing as he speaks. "If you need to squeeze tighter, its okay, it doesn't hurt." Marco didn't care if Az wanted to punch him the face. Fuck, the boy could kick him in the balls for all he cared if that's what it took to make Az feel better.

"You deserve to be taken care of. Marco turns his head ever so slightly to brush his cheek against Az's head as it rests on his shoulder. He wanted to pull Az into his arms and hold him close to comfort the boy, but he wouldn't dare touch Az in that way, or any other way other than what he was doing now, unless he was given permission. "I wish I could show you just how much love and care you deserve." Marco whispers, almost wanting Az to hear it but not at the same time. He didn't want to zcare Az away.
 
Az blows out a soft laugh, "I'm sorry, but if he either gives me toxic sludge or tries to put that thick ass needle in my ass or any other part of me, he might learn the damage my nails can do." He grins, though it was hidden from sight.

"Yes, he does give off the fatherly vibes immensely. One could fall in love with it."

Maybe that was from Az's lack of any kind of father, the man who had sored him being a senseless prick who had physically taken his pain out on Az. While Az had no visible scars from his years of abuse, there were plenty of emotional ones.

Az blows out another slow and calming breath at the feel of Marco's fingertips on the back of his hand. He relished the touch, the warmth and lightness of it. His grip slowly relaxed, his fingers uncurl and nails unlatching from the skin they had been digging into. "Really?" He whispers, the word just a soft breath, an exhale.

"You really think that? That I'm normal?" He rasps, feeling a different emotion, one he hadn't felt in just as long as this kind of touch. He didn't know what it was anymore, but maybe he would be able to name it later. "This is normal? To feel like this?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling them burn with unshed tears. Why was he feeling like this? How was this man able to make him feel better by saying just a few words when no one else had? Why did he want to never move again, and stay frozen in this moment forever? He felt a tear slip free, landing on the skin uncovered by Marco's too small shirt.

"I-I. . ." He shudders, "Fuck, Marco-"

His voice is a rasp, his arms tightening around Marco in another death grip.

"How? How do I deserve something like that? Why would anyone, especially want to do that to me?"
 
"Az you're just protecting yourself after everything that has happened to you. No one can blame you for being afraid of the simplest of touches. It is perfectly normal to want to stray away from other people and especially from being touched." Marco continues to gently graze Az's hand and arm, wanting to comfort the boy as much as possible without over stepping.

The moment he feels the tear hit his skin along with the tightened grip, Marco turns his head a little more so he look down at Az. He could only imagine what this poor boy had been going through mentally. His father was a dead beat who deserved to be tortured for life and it didn't seem like anyone had even tried to be there for Az.

"Shhhhhh, it's okay. There is nothing wrong with feeling this way. You didn't deserve any of the horrible things you went through." Marco's voice remains soft and gentle as he fills it with as much care and emotion as he can.

The fact that Az was tightening his grip on Marco even more was a good sign. It was proof that this poor boy just needed the right person in his life to help him heal. "I know I didn't give you much of a reason to feel it beforehand, but I promise on my life that you are safe here and nothing will ever happen to you again." Marco's eyes soften as he continues to look down at Az's head. He didn't care if he had to stay in this position for eternity. In fact, Marco would die happy if he were able to stay just like this with Az.

"You deserve love and care regardless of what you've done and what you've been through. There should never be a reason for you to not be loved and cared for Az." Marco smiles softly and leans his head down to gently press his face against the top of Az's head. "I will do anything to show you all the love and care you deserve."
 
Az wanted to cry. And not in a bad way, he'd been bottling it up so much, hiding how he had felt because he thought it had been wrong. People weren't supposed to shy away from touch, and they weren't supposed to avoid social interactions. Hearing that his feeling we're validated, and an honest response to his experiences, even from just one person. . . It had more tears slipping free. He bit down on his lip, shuddering again.

Az nods slightly, trying to believe Marco's words. But he couldn't help the feeling that of he hadn't needed to be picked up from school the day his life changed. . . That his mother would have been there for him, and his father advocating for Az.

Az was the one who chose to stay after school for a club, and he was left there stranded. It was his fault. He shudders again, pressing slightly closer to Marco. How has it gone from Marco needing the hug and to Az desperately clinging onto the man?

He lifts his head from the shoulder, his brown eyes still bright with tears that were fighting to fall. "I do feel safe." He gets out, shaking his head.

"I wouldn't have fallen asleep otherwise. I wouldn't have let James into my room otherwise." His fingers curl into Marco's shirt, "It's not your fault for that either.

"Things always slip through the cracks, it can't be helped, Marco."

Az's arms loosen ever so slightly, and his head drops back to Marco's shoulder, still craving that warmth and contact. He stiffens more at the feel of the other male's face and sucks in a shaky breath before exhaling it slowly. "Okay. . ." He whispers.
 
Marco takes a slow deep breath, wanting to calm his own heart rate, but also loving the way Az smelt. This boy was becoming someone that Marco would take all the pain in the world for. Even though Az had said he felt safe, Marco was worried that it wasn't true. He wouldn't blame the boy though. Az had been forcibly taken from his home and thrown into a mansion and was told to clean.

"It still shouldn't have happened Az. Everyone in my staff and crew was warned about what would happen if they ever did something like that..." Even Alfonso had warned everyone over and over again not to try and call Marco's bluff. He was the head of the mafia group for a reason, and it wasn't because he was a D'Angelo.

"Az, if at any point you feel that you need to hit something or vent out your frustration....or if you ever want to increase your ability to touch someone.....please come to me. I will be a punching bag for you if it will help you okay?" Marco spoke with pure honesty. He didn't care if Az made him bleed, it would be worth it if Az was happy. Marco softly hums the song he played before as he closes his eyes, hoping to help Az feel a little more relaxed.
 
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