Marcus Caravahlo (_caravahlo_) wrote in horror_story, @ 2013-07-29 15:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | complete, cycle003, incomplete, marcus, serena |
Who: Marcus and Serena
When: June 5th, around 3:00pm
Where: Athletics deck/gym
What: Exercise! It's fucking healthy.
Warning: None, atm. Just internal bitching.
It was turning out to be a stressful week.
At first, Marcus had been thrilled that Charlie Patenaude had declined Bryant's offer of a cruise ticket. He personally wasn't fond of the little shit, and hadn't wanted to endure endless shop talk. Now, he was thinking that Charlie might have been a good distraction for Bryant. The older man was obviously less than thrilled about how much time Marcus had clocked into Rob York's fiasco already, and Marcus didn't see an easy way to remedy that. Bryant wasn't expressing his discontent in words or making any demands on him. In fact, there'd been nothing but encouragement, which was somehow more bitter to swallow than if there'd been outright complaints. But Marcus would be a hypocrite if he brought it up, wouldn't he? How could he get mad at Bryant for saying all was well when it felt like it wasn't? If asked, Marcus was always 'fine,' himself, even when he was feeling inclined to punch someone's nose through their skull. So until Bryant wanted to address the tension directly, it would just sit there and build, indefinitely.
Marcus knew some of that sensation might have been projection, as well. Maybe Bryant was fine, and the tension was entirely self-imposed. Marcus had looked forward to getting out of the house for a while, out of routine, but he hadn't anticipated how trapped it would make him feel by comparison. Certain facts kept springing to mind unsummoned. His relationship with Bryant was his longest successful relationship to date. It had exceeded the length of his courtship of and marriage to Sophia as of six weeks, and counting. So he might have been actively scanning the ceiling for shoes. He was undeniably antsy. Waiting for something to pull the linchpin on the whole thing. Act as a catalyst to the inevitable parting of ways. Trips were stressful by nature, so why the fuck not?
And would the collapse be welcomed, or not? Marcus was certain of his feelings for the coroner. That was an undeniable fact. Bryant was precious to him. Marcus would walk through fire. Take a bullet. Whatever was needed. He'd die for Bryant without question. But did that equate wanting to spend the rest of his life with Bryant? He knew that he'd implied it by moving in with the older man. They hadn't had an actual discussion about it... no vows had been taken or requested either way... but Marcus wasn't a fucking idiot. There were unspoken assumptions that could be made without fault. It was why he felt so fucking guilty after jerking off to a mental image of Hunter or Delaney or any one of the several hundred bitches on the ship worth jerking off to. Fantasy was a far fucking cry from infidelity, but he'd been feeling more and more antsy with each day spent on the ship. He couldn't be entirely certain that the only thing separating the two wasn't lack of opportunity.
Not that he'd be bringing that up to anyone anytime soon. He'd spent the day prior negotiating Rob York's crazed ideas of what relationships required. That man took fidelity to another realm of definition, spending the entire day prior freaking the fuck out because his girlfriend hadn't answered a text message. Combing the island just to catch her in the act of some pretty innocent-looking revelry with her girlfriends (excellent tits, though, Marcus did have to give her that -- her and her sister, God bless good genetics). He'd almost convinced Rob to chill the fuck out until that. That had worked York up into another pissy mood, and Marcus had been tempted to text Jon. Pride had kept him from it. He could handle the likes of Rob York... though now he and Jon were fucking even. The Mormon wasn't allowed to bitch about shit, henceforth. The entire day, Marcus had largely just spun platitudes while wishing he was drunk. He didn't think that Rob cared, though. The guy was too wrapped up in his nest of issues to question anyone else's expertise. Marcus thought he'd played his role fairly well.
"Why do you want to get married, man?"
"Because I love her."
"Yeah? Then fucking act it. Trust the bitch."
Relationship advice was easy to dish out when it wasn't his fucking relationship, but it was poor form to offer a great deal of it while vividly picturing a threesome with the firecrotch sisters, so Marcus had been happy enough to leave Rob to sulking the night before. Today, he was decidedly off duty. The ship had gone off-course, so everyone had to be on board, which resulted in him being a little stir crazy, just by virtue of being told he couldn't leave if he wanted to. He told Bryant he was going to check in with Rob and then hit the gym for a while. The first bit was a lie, which was admittedly a slippery slope to start down, but Marcus had wanted to go alone and wasn't sure the gym would be dissuading enough without the York factor. Bryant had never been very interested in picking up a weight-training habit, but he was stuck on the boat, too. Marcus just wanted some to himself without any emotional tensions present, friend or lover-related. Exercise was excellent for not thinking, and the ship was fully equipped.
Most people used vacation as an excuse to break from their routines (if they had any to begin with), and even those who did stick to their routines tended to work out in the mornings, so the gym was largely empty when Marcus walked in. He had his pick of the machines, so he went over to the elliptical just to warm up, before starting his usual sets.