"I'm sorry, Tomas," Marcus says, regret as thick as his accent, as he thinks what a mistake he made bringing Tomas.“God, forgive me. I am sorry."
Tomas, who has failed every test set before him, whispers, "There is nothing to forgive. You gave me nothing I did not ask for."
"Don't tell me that," Marcus says. Pleads. Confession is ugly work, and he is making Marcus endure it for the sake of his own conscience—weak, stupid, carnal, selfish, Tomas, always so fucking selfish. Marcus is never at a loss for words. But here, his mouth is open but words will not come. Marcus closes his eyes, his bright eyes, and presses a fist against his lips. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“No,” says Tomas, which answers both questions. “It is—it was in my head.”
“But it feels real,” Marcus says, not to Tomas.
Tomas remembers the lie of Marcus’ fingers in his mouth, and rasps out, “Yes.”
The silence that follows has a smothering weight. It is a pause like a pillow upon the face. Tomas stands by the bed, hands clasped and head stooped. He waits for Marcus to speak; he meekly chokes on the silence.
“What do you want?” Marcus asks at last, his tone as unreadable as the floor.
I want it to have been you.
But that is a desire Tomas doesn’t deserve anymore.
“I’d like…I’d like stay. With you,” Tomas says to his hands. Marcus takes a deep breath but otherwise says nothing. “If you’ll have me.”
“Of course,” Marcus says. “Of course. That’s not—that’s never a question.”
Ужасно тяжелая глава. Вдвойне тяжелая, потому что кажется, так легко сделать всё хорошо - не отменить случившееся, но отменить его значение - просто пойми, Маркус, мать твою...
Нет, Маркус был бы не Маркус, если бы сейчас понял правильно; он и сам "часть той силы", что вечно хочет блага, но обстоятельства против.
С другой стороны, тогда эта история закончилась бы - а я пока совсем не хочу, чтобы она заканчивалась)