[ marcus is the one who asked for reassurance about his choice to trust saya and come to king's, even if not in so many words, but now that billy's actually giving him that, marcus just feels small and anxious. he shouldn't be outing himself like this, putting himself in some weak frame of reference where billy will see him as desperate and needy instead of above their classmates and isolated by choice. he's polished an image of being detached and confident and outside, and throwing saya under the bus by calling her manipulative, throwing his self-image under the bus just because he's shaken by one little fucking assignment by lin, it's all just - not worth it.
marcus's hand curls on billy's shirt, bunching up the fabric and making it ride up a little from his stomach. when he keeps talking, it's out of this self-flagellating need to make billy think less of him, now that marcus knows, consciously or otherwise, that that's not something he wants. self-harm's always been a problem of his. ]
I haven't thought about either of them since I arrived. I thought about you, and I thought about Willie, but I haven't thought about them. Not really.
[ and that's fucked up, right? here marcus is, talking about how this hit is hard for him because he has to kill his friend, how his life was saved by the sheer possibility of not being alone - but when it comes to maria, who he was going to kill for just like he did for billy, and when it comes to saya, who he's obsessed over since the second he first met her, he hasn't given a shit. hasn't given them the courtesy of his respect. he wants billy to say that that's fucked up. he wants billy to tell him he's selfish and pathetic, this coward who uses his friends like lifelines and then abandons them when they can't give him what he needs.
he's always thought men and women can't just be friends. he's always had this immediate, bullshit view of the girls in his life, which is something that hasn't really changed since coming to duplicity; a show of kindness from the opposite sex and marcus immediately starts analyzing the girl he's talking to as a potential date. without maria or saya here to help him, to save him, to fix the cracks in how broken he is, marcus has been trying to find other girls to do the same, treating them as replaceable commodities in some fucked up display of ingrained sexist bullshit. that's fucked up. he's fucked up. billy needs to call him fucked up.
maybe he's not making any sense. maybe he's just jumping from one thought to the other, still too disjointed and panicked over the incoming hit to be capable of holding a fucking linear conversation. maybe the only reason billy is really engaging with him right now is because the option is to leave him rotting alone in an old, abandoned playground with nothing but his fear and his guilt to keep him company. marcus's weight rests against billy's chest a little firmer, his arm holding him more securely in place. ]
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marcus's hand curls on billy's shirt, bunching up the fabric and making it ride up a little from his stomach. when he keeps talking, it's out of this self-flagellating need to make billy think less of him, now that marcus knows, consciously or otherwise, that that's not something he wants. self-harm's always been a problem of his. ]
I haven't thought about either of them since I arrived. I thought about you, and I thought about Willie, but I haven't thought about them. Not really.
[ and that's fucked up, right? here marcus is, talking about how this hit is hard for him because he has to kill his friend, how his life was saved by the sheer possibility of not being alone - but when it comes to maria, who he was going to kill for just like he did for billy, and when it comes to saya, who he's obsessed over since the second he first met her, he hasn't given a shit. hasn't given them the courtesy of his respect. he wants billy to say that that's fucked up. he wants billy to tell him he's selfish and pathetic, this coward who uses his friends like lifelines and then abandons them when they can't give him what he needs.
he's always thought men and women can't just be friends. he's always had this immediate, bullshit view of the girls in his life, which is something that hasn't really changed since coming to duplicity; a show of kindness from the opposite sex and marcus immediately starts analyzing the girl he's talking to as a potential date. without maria or saya here to help him, to save him, to fix the cracks in how broken he is, marcus has been trying to find other girls to do the same, treating them as replaceable commodities in some fucked up display of ingrained sexist bullshit. that's fucked up. he's fucked up. billy needs to call him fucked up.
maybe he's not making any sense. maybe he's just jumping from one thought to the other, still too disjointed and panicked over the incoming hit to be capable of holding a fucking linear conversation. maybe the only reason billy is really engaging with him right now is because the option is to leave him rotting alone in an old, abandoned playground with nothing but his fear and his guilt to keep him company. marcus's weight rests against billy's chest a little firmer, his arm holding him more securely in place. ]
Would you kill me? If Lin said you had to.