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Is it really a great morning?
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At first, yes, because at first, that’s all there is: a morning of waking up next to someone whose company he happens to cherish. A tired morning, one where there’s still exhaustion and the daze of having just woken. A great morning, for it didn’t come after the horrifying nightmares he has come to know, the ones that steal away his slumber and cause him to wake in cold sweat before the sun even rises. A great morning, for even when the familiar ache of a migraine begins to creep in, that’s much better than what Mars is used to experiencing.
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Until it isn’t.
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With the ache, the fog that exhaustion had brought upon his mind begins to lift and clear, and as it does, as he looks at BARNABY FINCH, memories flood him…
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Why had he said all of that? How could he had been so stupid? Had it been the alcohol? Had he just been to caught up in the moment?
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It’s not that he hadn’t meant it, because if he had said it, Mars knows he certainly had at the time, even if only as a drunk sentiment born of lust and fondness. But, in his eyes, that’s the most foolish thing he could have done. He should know better. He should have learned by now. He should be well aware that nothing good ever comes out of saying things like those – that it will only bring him pain, just as it has before.
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Even if he had only been caught up in the moment, it had all been a stupid thing to do. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. So very stupid. The word repeats itself in his mind as if it were one of those Unown Report entries that so often overtake his thoughts.
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However, even as it does, he smiles, faintly so:
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”Ha. Très bien.” It’s behind a quiet chuckle that the turmoil of his mind hides itself, because Barnaby is not the one responsible for this pain. Barnaby is not the one who betrayed him. Barnaby is not the one who used him. Barnaby is not the one who did not care for his feelings. And, because Mars knows this, he knows Barnaby shouldn’t have to deal with the consequences.
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On this morning, a line is drawn, and it shows itself in the way Mars fondly runs fingers through Barnaby’s dark hair before pulling away and sitting at the edge of the bed – his back turned to his companion.
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”Mmm… I’m in desperate need of some coffee.” It’s the truth, yet it also gives him an excuse to get up after a second spared to stretch, walking over to his bag in order to retrieve a pair of underwear and grey joggers. The clothes he wore the night before are sure to be scattered in the living room, so not a thought is spared for them, barely even pausing at the door once he’s no longer completely naked. ”I’ll make you some too.”
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He doesn’t look back before heading out of the room, because he knows that if he does, his expression will betray him and reveal all the pain and annoyance that fill his heart and mind at that moment.
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But, why does walking away make him feel even worse? Why does it hurt not to look at BARNABY FINCH? Had he really meant everything he said? Had Barnaby?



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