bloody hands | { mateus/aylin }

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

 

I read a story once, and it told a tale about red sands and warm water. A lost girl was on this beach in search of a lost bracelet, and every day she would dig a new hole in hopes of finding it, but she would only ever find the water waiting for her beneath the surface. Pools of it began to dot the entire area, and eventually, the beach became a giant sink hole, and her bracelet was lost forever.

It was supposed to tell a lesson that some things are meant to be lost, and that trying to bring them back would only make things worse.

I stood on a beach that had once been so different to me than the one from the story. Clear waves and a beautiful horizon, and salt on my skin forever a reminder of the nearly year-round summer of my hometown. Avery and I had searched for seashells on this beach when we were kids, strung them up on strings and wore them like they were priceless jewels because, to us, they were.

And it had been almost a year exactly since this beach's waters ran warm and the sands turned red. My brother was lost, and I had been digging holes ever since.

I could still picture it in my head -- the boats in the water, the men fishing his body out of it. Mom cried. Dad purged. I just stared, forever having a tendency to swallow my emotions and let them burn me from the inside until ashes scorched my tongue like the last drag of a secret cigarette. Anger. That was what I felt. Anger for his death, longing for his return, envy for his departure.

Resentment for whoever had taken him.

Following a dead man's tracks would only lead me so far, but I was set on turning up the truth. So, I would continue to dig, and if the water swallowed the beach and the tracks came to an end, I would hold my breath and search still.

A broken boy should have known better than to talk to me, especially when he was so high up on my growing list of suspects.

"Mateus Marshall," I said, and I could feel the ashes burning on my tongue. "What the fuck brings you so far from home?" There were sides to District Four. No, not sides, since most of us lived near the coast. I guessed it was more like a scale, and the further south you got, the less expensive the houses were, if you know what I mean. Families like the Marshalls lived up at the top, with the Perch family and the Krigels. Then there was a step down, and there were families like the Libertines and the Ripleys and the Letos. And then there, at the bottom of the District, was the Barlow family.

When I had my way, we'd be neighbors with the fucking Mayor himself.

For the first time, I looked at the boy. Arrogant by nature, handsome by design. All of it only read suspect to me. "Come to pout about the placements this month?" I asked, folding my arms together and fixing my stare on the horizon, "Don't worry. There's always next time."

" SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH THE MAZE THAT SHE'S ON "

[Deleted]

You're just running yourself deeper-

"Y'know, we could spend this time doing something cooler than just walking."

"The downtown beach is better, Bexler."

We walked past several cooler things, street performers, restaurants, it's obvious these aren't dream dates for either of us but it's at least safer. Bexler stopped us on the way, my hands in my jacket pockets as he pet a hairy dog; he likes that side of life. Civilian life, dogs and dresses and dolls - the people we're supposed to protect. 

A person I've killed already before- "besides, you like cardio." A smile, "right?" 

"There's some things I like more than cardio-"

"Silver linings, Bex, quality time together." 

I run my fingers through my hair, walking across coast line stores and sea gull calls - he likes me. It's apparent, and I care about him to in the ways I'm made to, us Marshalls know how to fuck these things up. More so, peacekeepers - I can't love like that, that civilian hellebore love, so I won't. We walk past families, Bexler and I joking around, dancing like fingertips on subcontext; internal bleeding. 

That's okay. 

We both know why we walk so far from home - can't be recognized past face value where names don't exist. Bexler wants something, something I don't have in this rib cage but it's easy to pretend out in paradise, some coast line we recognize from walks and this time together and in a way it is quality time together. It's the only time the Mateus he wants is the one that exists- right. Sea gull songs, the layer of Bex's voice in between waves and chatter, walking past cafes and clouds -- it's what he wants. 

Those simple things, and I can see why. It's easier to get lost in them then what we do, nothing glorious in peacekeepers but it's the only thing I need. Not sea shores and castle clouds, not Bexler and I -- it's in my father's voice. That deep rattly thing, getting lost in the mundane and the flowers, there's blood stains on the bricks we walk and he can't ever see it. 

It's a shame, right?

You take yourself too seriously- Bexler grabs my hand when we start walking on sand, his voice ringing in my head and I can't tell if it was material or not but I'm lost in something less than that. Something somehow less and more; what is the point of being who this is -- colonel mateus against loving mateus. Right? What all is the meaning of forcing myself down one path where the other can't exist, what's the point of it all-

"Is that Aylin?"

"Fuck."

"What's the matter ba-"

"Walk somewhere else- she's nothing but drama."

"Well,

what's a few more steps."

"There's always next time, Bex."

I keep my head down, Bexler walking perpendicular into a coast-store and "Mateus Marshall." My arms choked into my pockets, popping my elbows- Bexler looking over his shoulder, me existing in peripheral, we've done this before. The walks, splitting up, it's not the worth risk and he knows it.

We live two different paths, skipping between the threads- "what the fuck brings you so far from home?"

"What the fuck brings you in my business?"

They always want to fuck with me - Calypso, Aylin, Brentley, that little Ayne (Aine?) fucker - joke around with me like it's a buddy system, "come to pout about the placements this month?"

Does this bitch actually live this far south?

"Don't worry," she folders her arms, I keep my strict. "There's always next time." 

Face tilted, eyes creasing into my eyebrows- some kids don't know how to behave. "Just checking out the impoverished- now what the fuck do you want." It gives me a migraine- I think that's what it is. A fainting feeling, don't you have a brother to find on the tip of my tongue but I'm not heartless. 

A rapture, drowning myself out of blood and boat rides, the mystery of brother Barlow. 

"Validation?" A peak of my eyebrow, stern faced like my father before me and mystery and my mind being the only evidence left- I eat my own conscience and pray Bex finds his own path home. 

[ gay ]

[umber vivuus 12b 🥀 [dars]]

 

Gritted teeth and cinnamon gum, and it was easier to play plastic with a boy so clearly made of glass. He'd gotten his bluff on me when we had first met, just as he got everyone. A silver smile and pretty blue eyes, and just a dash of confidence, and anyone was putty in his hands at the drop of a hat. But I had learned after a short while that Mateus was nothing special. He was a big mouth and fire hazard, and anyone close to him always ended up burned.

I noticed Bexler Braun just a few paces away from ear shot, hands in his pockets, trying to pretend not to notice us, and I stifled a laugh.

I hoped he didn't mind the flames.

"Just checking out the impoverished- now what the fuck do you want? Validation?" I pursed my lips at him, pleased that I was under his skin. He kept his hands in his pockets, like the contents of his coat were too good to let go. Maybe he was just trying to hide fists squeezed shut and empty of everything except annoyance.

"Validation?" I echoed, "From you? Can't say it would do me any good." Eagle eyes and a quickening pulse, and I dared him to let the red out. I saw it just below the surface all of the time, when Brentley would push passed him in class, or Calypso would correct him on a question he obviously hadn't studied for. All that was needed was a pin to pop him, and rage would have exploded from within.

"No, what I want is for you to climb back into your castle and pull up the draw bridge, but we all know you're no good at following orders." I nodded my head to Bexler, who steadily walked in the opposite direction. From what I had gathered, he was just as guilty as the rest of them, and Mateus had failed to mention his name when he was dropping them-- my soon-to-be-dead brother's included-- to the peacekeepers.

"Boyfriend doesn't want to chat?"

It was not my intention to tell anyone who was fucking who. I couldn't have cared less about who was sneaking into the Marshall estate at night, and I guessed no one else would care, either. But Mateus had made a career of pulling the wool over people's eyes and convincing them he was just another sheep, not a wolf preparing to slaughter them when they looked the other way. Now, it was my turn to get some answers. Now, it was my time to burn.

I lit the match and tossed it, and I waited for the wildfire to consume me.

" SHE FELL IN LOVE WITH THE MAZE THAT SHE'S ON "

[Deleted]

I wish I could quit. 

This shit keeps getting set up to me- I better not hold my breath. My skin itches starring Aylin in the eyes, laxed jaw with Bexler on my mind and all I can ask is why do we still try. But it's because we must, have to keep going, have to keep succeeding, unshakable thing. Clenching nails to my palm, trying to be the unstoppable force and unmovable object at the same time.

"Validation?"

I squint. 

"From you?"

Is it delusional if I acknowledge it myself. 

Blood and flesh and pulses and Mateus, calculating every step of the way and I don't understand why it's so hard to stay calm. My mother'd hate me for loving Bexler, I wonder if she'd hate me for being shitty at it. I only killed a few people, what'd I do to deserve this type of karma? She's so tiring, what happened to people being scared of me, that was an easier time. 

It felt correct- ha.

"From you? Can't say it would do me any good." 

("Great.")

Eyebags and all, I shouldn't be below Aylin Barlow -- not to be a dick or anything. Playing smart is as important as being smart, can't say she can do either. Can't even catch one killer, especially when I'm right here- god, what the fuck am I saying. It's so fucking tiring, this goddamn dog sniffing under my tracks every step I take like she has any idea- what am I supposed to do? Drug busts and murders, I had to do that shit, we all have shit on us so why am I the only one drowning for it? 

Brentley is fine, fucking as always- goddamn addicts. He gets to flat line while we both know the same shit, my fist shaking in my jacket; it's right here, Barlow. Every answer she keeps trying to dig for under my skin and I can't say shit. All the answers in one damn Marshal, hiding secrets like it's dna in our coding- it's what we do. I'm just supposed to be better at it. 

Better best,

"No, what I want is for you to climb back into your castle and pull up the draw bridge," if I held my breath waiting for her to finish I'd be dead by now. Never stops, rolling my eyes and trying not to shake goddamn it -- I'm faltering. "But we all know you're no good at following orders," great. 

It's great, that she's living her detective dreams and all, wish she had talent to back it up; "boyfriend doesn't want to chat?" 

"You ever want to shut up a second?" 

Shit, spending time with Aylin makes me itch, "I don't know what you want but I don't fucking have it, Barlow."

Don't have any time for her, any time for Bexler for myself, for this- "interrogation's over." Buying no time, wasting nothing on her I just need her to fuck off, Bexler can find his own way home; he can go without me. Some people just don't know when to quit.

[ gay ]