If you really missed it,I thought,then why did you stop being my friend?
But of course I couldn’t say that. Doing so it would be akin to opening a can of worms, and that was another dangerous thing the older and wiser version of me knew better than to do.
And so I changed the subject instead, asking carefully, “What about you?” I bit my lip. “How are you taking yournonna’spassing so far?”
A part of me expected Marcus to brush my words away, but instead he answered in a neutral voice, “She has been sick for a long time. In a way, I am thankful that her suffering has passed.”
I hesitated then reached for his hand to give it a comforting squeeze. “I’m really sorry, Marcus.”
Something flickered in his eyes, and I couldn’t understand what it was until he spoke in a tight voice—-
“Thank you.”
A memory drifted back into my mind, of that day we spent in Alfred’s, and he had allowed me a glimpse of his past.
I want to be friends with you because looking at you...is like having a personal reminder that the world isn’t bad.
That time, I had tried to push him into saying more, but he had shut himself down almost right after.
That time, he had a look on his face—-
And it was the same look I saw on his face now, only this time he was doing his best to let me in.
When he carefully pulled his hand away from my hold, I let him, knowing instinctively that this time it was his pain he was distancing himself from – and not me.
“I told her about you, you know.”
Oh.
“She wanted to meet you.”
“I would have wanted to meet her, too.”
He nodded jerkily. “I knew you would.” His fists clenched. “She was the only one who cared for me.”
I slowly shook my head. “That’s not true.”
He laughed humorlessly. “How do you know?”
“Because – you have your friends.”
His gaze just bored through me, reminding me without words that he wasn’t exactly the most reliable friend to have around.
“Well.” I couldn’t help but sound defensive. “You’re a good friend to my brothers, aren’t you? And they’re good friends to you, too. So yes, they’re some of the friends who care about you.Okay?”
“Okay.” Marcus’ tone was mockingly obedient, but the look in his eyes remained inscrutable, and I knew a part of him was still locked in isolated darkness.
“T-there’s more,” I blurted out, desperate to convince him that he was not alone.
“Let me guess.” His tone was dry. “Fleur cares about me, too?”
“Well, yes, but—-” I pointed at myself, saying awkwardly, “There’s also me?”
Marcus stilled.
I said more firmly, “You have me—-”
“Do I?”