[Open] Listen to the heart

[tony angel martyn]

It was saturday, the week had been a drag, and it was eight in the morning. Tony pushed the doors open, always came at this time because nobody else was here.
He tossed his things on the bleachers, nodding greeting towards the familiar face behind the counter.

The Honesty was playing, and Tony scowled at the voice of the familiar singer, the irony of the words he had uttered at the mall before Marc walked away.

He tugged on his second skate and tied it, running a hand through his hair. He didn't bother with a jacket this time, pushing off, onto the ice in silence to begin some warm up laps, touching at the bruises on his wrist from yesterday.

[marcus owen foster]

Marc walked down the road, just getting off his shift at the club. He was exausted, and wanted nothing more than to just take a shower and go to sleep. And he had all intentions of that until he spotted the ice rink. He remembered Tony saying that he was there in the mornings, and wondered if he was there. Just to show him he was still alive. Barely.

He ran a hand over his shaved head, then pushed open the door, watching the boy skate around the rink. He sat down on the bleachers, leaning over so his hands were on his knees. He looked down at the bloody bandages around his hands and wondered how he had managed to work all night with his hands cut up worse than ground meat. He could hear his dad in his head.

'You're about one stupid mother fucker, aren't you? Three blood transfusions?! I don't know how you're still alive. Something ain't right with you.' He bit his lip, shaking his head, and the voice from it.

[tony angel martyn]

Tony nearly fell when Marc walked in the door. He scowled, turning his face away, swallowing back the relief that washed over him. 'You shouldn't fucking care.' He said it over and over in his head but he couldn't shake it, touched his bruised ribs, knew at least one was broken.

He only picked up speed, trying to shake off sudden anger at himself, dropped into a lowcrouch, pulling one leg up under him.

[marcus owen foster]

Marc bit his lip, then started to play with one of his gauges. He ran his finger across the outer ring, looking away from the direction Tony was in.

'Do you love him?' He closed his eyes, knowing he was going crazy if he was hearing his dead mother's voice.

'No.. I don't love him.. I don't want anything to do with him.. This is what he told me to do..' He thought, biting his lip harder.

'You don't have to. So why do you keep coming back?' He opened his eyes, expecting her to be sitting there beside him, whispering in his ear. But she wasn't. He let a tear fall down his cheek, putting his head back in his hands.

'I love you, moma..' He thought, wondering if she could still hear him.

[tony angel martyn]

Tony sighed, straightening up without a waver in soeed or balance. He glanced over his shoulder, shouldb't be skating hurt but he didn't care. Especially now.

"What you want?" He called. "Just decided to stop by randomly after what, a week? Obviously you don't wanna be my problem."

He eyed him more warily. "Everything you said, what was the point Marc?" Blades dug against the ice, bringing him to a stop in the middle of the rink, figuring he couldn't come near him then.

He touched his side with a wince. "So why now? A week later? What do you want from me? Honestly I'm confused. This is torture and it's not fair Marc."

[marcus owen foster]

Marc sat there unmoving for a moment, chewing on his lip, thinking over his words. He sat there for a bit longer, then looked up at Tony. "I don't know, Tony.." He said, looking away. He didn't feel like yelling across the rink to him, so he sighed, standing up and walking over to him.

"Because you told me to.." He said, leaning against the railing. He thought if he kept telling himself that, that he would start to believe it. He bit his lip, looking down at the ice.

"Because I can't get you out of my head.." He said quietly, drumming his fingers against the railing.

[tony angel martyn]

"I didn't tell you to do anything but not kill yourself," He mumbled from the middle of the ice.
He rubbed at his wrists absently, caught the soft last words over the ice.

He sighed. "I'm done playing games Marc. Either keep in touch or don't, but don't vanish for a week and pop up randomly and tell me it's my fault. You have a choice."

He skated closer, favoring his right side over his left as he approached.

[marcus owen foster]

"I'm not saying its your fault, Tony.." He pulled out a scrap of paper, scribbling his number on it as best he could. He held it out, keeping his head down.

"I'm saying.. I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to hurt you, okay? I'm hurting myself in the process." He held out his bandaged hands, turning them over so Tony could see the blood soaked cloth.

"That's my fault for hurting you.. I.. Tony, what's wrong?" He asked, watching his slim figure. "Who's ass am I kicking?" He asked, straightening up. "Who put their hands on you?"

[tony angel martyn]

Tony sighed, blinked as he came up to him. He took the paper in surprise, pocketed it, and blinked at his wrapped hands. "My god Marc..." He mumbled softly, taking his hands gently.

He looked up at him, blue eyes upset. "You should go to somebody when you need help..."

His voice trailed at the questioning and he stared down at his bruised right wrist, trying to act indifferent. "He was just messin' again..." He mumbled.

[marcus owen foster]

"No one 'just messes' with you. You got it? I'm gonna find him. Don't you think I wont." He might not be a werewolf, but he would get Channing to track him down. He tipped Tony's chin back, looking up into his eyes.

"Stop looking down, Tony.. Those eyes could light up a room.." He said quietly, smiling his sideways smile at him. He folded his arms across the railing again, biting his lip.

"I know this guy.." He said, looking away. "He swaps shifts with me.. He's really cute.. I think you'd like him.." He looked up at Tony, almost hoping he took the offer so then Marc could have an excuse to stop thinking about him.