Skyglass: Chapter 7

When I arrived at the arena, one of the other spectators offered me his port. I pressed my com in and synced up to Epiphyte&Mead’s vantage.

Marko was pacing the length of a wide, rubble-strewn hall that, according to the map, was somewhere a few levels beneath my feet. I was shocked and a little unnerved to see the bioluminescent kill-splashes of eight or nine different players dyeing his suit: aquamarine, mint, red, three shades of red… 8 Kills glimmered the counter to the right of his game name. He was never this good.

A crackle from the field–someone had kicked up a spray of pebbles. Marko went still, then turned toward the hall’s entrance.

“You’re as bright as day, ’Mead,” said a tuneful voice attached to an androgynous figure streaked with silver lights. Starbreaker/7 Kills, read the fading letters above their head. Starbreaker’s garb was nearly as spattered in battle-blood as Marko’s.

“You’re not far behind,” Mark said softly.

“Hm,” Starbreaker mused. “Well, don’t get used to it. Why are you so good today, ’Mead? You’re usually lucky to get three kills in a game. Something make you mad?”

“No,” Marko said. “I’m just…off.”

I tightened my jaw. My fault. I wondered if I’d be better off killing the volume, or stepping away from the port altogether.

“Too bad. I was going to ask you out for a drink, after I killed you and Raathu, who’s still hiding around here somewhere–but I hate mopey drunks. And you’re already drunk, aren’t you?”

Marko lunged instead of answering. Starbreaker brought their pewter-streaked sword up; the blades met with a crack of crawling, thread-thin lightning. The bout was a collision of dazzling electricity and darkness that lasted maybe three minutes.

Starbreaker grazed Marko’s arm, leaving a vein of brilliance across his uniform–seconds later, my boss (ex-boss?) thrust his sword into Star’s throat. His opponent toppled, laughing a little maniacally, while Marko simply turned and left the hall I’d found him pacing in minutes before.

Another down, one to go. Someone named Raathu. I looked at the map, but couldn’t find the bright-battler.

“Where are they?” I hissed under my breath.

Marko stopped walking. “Oh,” he said. “Moss?”

Oh, I echoed in my head. Rotting piss. I’d spoken–and now he knew I was here, because I’d forgotten to put myself on mute.

He looked around, like he might somehow be able to see me. “How long have you been watching?”

I drudged up my voice. “Since Starbreaker.”

A heavy sigh. “Least you weren’t here to watch me fall on my ass and almost die.”

“The port could show that to me, if I asked,” I reminded him.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” I agreed.

When he spoke next, I could hear the weak grin in his voice. “That’s what I like about you, Moss. I mean, not only that–I’ve got a list of things, right? A pretty long one, and…” He stopped talking. “Is that creepy? It’s creepy. I’m sorry.”

I smiled, half-squeamish, glad the port was one-way and he couldn’t see me. “I want to see the list.” Mostly to make sure there wasn’t anything creepy or messed up on it, but maybe also in a fruitless attempt to boost my nonexistent self-confidence.

“You–what?” He clenched a hand around his sword’s blade; its edge shimmered as it bit into his fingers, sending pink flashes to stain his gloves. “Even after what I told you? Don’t be nice to me, Moss. Please don’t be nice. I messed up, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Shut up,” I murmured, then said louder, “What happened to Myriad? It’s all…pink inside, and there was a lady there who said it’s hers now.”

“Rotting hel.” Mark stumbled against a wall, pressing his forehead into it. “The shop’s gone. Your…job’s gone. I tried so hard, so rotting hard, to keep it going, and I still failed–but I’ll figure something out, I’m promise. I’ll find you a job, or money, or something.”

For a moment, senseless panic caught me in the gut–then I relaxed. I was taken care of…financially, at least. I had to remember that.

“I’m fine. You know–Phoenix.”

He barked out a nervous laugh. “Right. Of course.”

I wanted to ask him what he was going to do, now that Myriad was gone–but that wasn’t why I’d come. “What you said,” I began, voice shaking against my will. “Was it–is it true? Do you…” I trailed off; I couldn’t get myself to say any more.

Marko straightened. “Yes,” he said, strong and clear. “I do love you.” His voice dropped again. “And I am so, so sorry.”

I licked my lips. “I… Don’t be.” It wasn’t quite what I wanted to say, but I was trying hard to understand what he was dealing with. Trying my best not to say something that might hurt him more.

“But I have to be, and I am. I know you’re aromantic, Moss. I know you don’t want this. And I wanted to respect that, I do respect that–you. But I just couldn’t keep my rotting mouth shut.” He snorted. “How’s that for respect? I’m terrible.”

“You’re not terrible, Mark, you’re just–” I cut myself off. I wanted to ask Why couldn’t you have kept your mouth shut, but a pulsing scarlet dot had appeared on my map. Raathu.

“Marko?”

“Huh?” he asked miserably.

“Watch out.”

He wavered and spun, but too late–Raathu crouched and stabbed him in the groin. The blade went liquid at the contact and rippled as it tore up to Marko’s sternum. I heard Raathu laugh as Marko toppled, the blade’s crimson spreading up and down his chest, then laugh again when he didn’t get up.

A line appeared through Marko’s game name, and then even Epiphyte&Mead faded. Raathu raised their blade in a salute, said a surprisingly respectful, “Good fight,” and then departed.

Mark didn’t stir for a long time.

I said his name out loud after a few minutes.

A heavy sigh. “Yeah.” He pushed himself up like he’d traded his flesh for lead, and sat on the ground with his head bent. “Um,” he began. “That list I mentioned, it’s… I think I’d be too embarrassed to show you. You know?”

I didn’t, but I said nothing. I decided I didn’t want to see it.

“Can I ask you something?”

I choked for a moment. “Can it wait ’til you’re sober?”

“I’m sober…mostly.” He stood and made his way through the rubble, toward the exit. He didn’t trip over himself, so his claim had to be somewhat true.

I sighed. “What?”

The view on my screen followed him through an off-kilter door into the empty changing rooms. He sat on a rusty bench and stared at the drippy showers across the dim, tiled room. “I was just wondering…about Phoenix,” he said.

“What about her?”

“She… You’re more comfortable with her, aren’t you? Than you are with me.”

I snorted. “Well, yeah.” I caught myself, too late, and swallowed. I hadn’t meant to answer so quickly, or honestly.

“Because I love you?”

I sighed sharply, knowing he’d take it as a yes.

Marko tugged at his messy braid, dragging a hand through his hair. “I wish I didn’t. I wish I could just stop. I hate feeling this way, ’cause all it does is screw things up. I don’t wanna put you through this.”

“Then don’t,” I said. I was tired. I didn’t want to think about this anymore.

“I’m sor–”

“Stop apologizing,” I snapped. “It’s meaningless unless you’re actually gonna do something about it and you can’t do anything. Can you? You’ve made that pretty clear.”

Marko had frozen, cowed and bent in on himself, his hands gripping his sheathed sword. He said nothing; he stared at the leaking showers.

When his silence held, I kept talking. “I’m sick of people saying things they don’t mean. That’s what I like about Phoenix. She doesn’t try to make me feel better. She just says what she wants. So if you want to say something and not piss me off, then rotting mean what comes out of your mouth or don’t say anything.” I stopped and swallowed. “Do you think you can stop loving me?”

Marko was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

I grunted in frustration. “Then let’s not talk about it anymore. I don’t want to talk about…” I trailed off, my gut twisting into knots. I didn’t want to spit up any more words, but there was one last thing.

“You came and sat with me in the bathtub that night because you cared, right? Because you’ve always tripped over yourself to make sure I’m okay. Even when you didn’t know me.” I forced down the bile bubbling up my throat. “But when you needed someone to take care of you, you didn’t ask me. And I bet it was because you didn’t expect me to do piss about it.”

Marko didn’t reply. His head sunk lower. Maybe he was trying to do what I’d just asked. Be honest or not say anything. I almost hoped he’d look me in the eye and say, I don’t expect anything from you, Moss, ’cause you’re a useless, apathetic ass. Wishful, self-destructive thinking.

I felt dazed and nauseous. I hadn’t meant for this conversation to turn this way. I hadn’t meant to talk so much. But it had happened, I’d said what I’d said, and I couldn’t take any of it back.

Marko let out a strangled laugh. “Okay. Now I’m gonna get drunk.” He was smiling, trying to keep his expression from collapsing. He rose, but didn’t go anywhere. He pressed a hand against his eyes, saying, “Fuck, fuck,” under his breath, voice weak. Then he cut the feed.

I left after that, fast as I could. I didn’t want to cross paths with him on my way out.

Proceed to Chapter 7, page 4–>