You’re not really sure when things start to go south. If it’s after the death of the Guardians, or when Mark joined a stupid team of teenage heroes.
But the inseparable trio slowly grew into a duo.
“Well, uh… Kiddo, Mark’s… meeting new people. People with… Abilities and such. And he’s… apart of a team. Of heroes. And you might not see him… As much.”
Nolan’s voice is quiet, fingers laced and brilliant blue eyes lowered to the spinning turbines, windmills that pierce the fluffy clouds above and you nod your head. Gaze fixed on the rolling hills, fresh meadows and pasture fields as far as the eye can see.
“Mr Nolan, are you telling me that Mark’s outgrowing me?” You cock a brow. “I’m not a snowflake, I can take the bad news in stride.”
“He’s outgrowing his human age group.”
And you let out a low, bellowing whine. “My Shayla.”
Before a snort of laughter breaks the façade of heartache, and Nolan scoffs, rolling his eyes at your dramaticism. Before bumping his shoulder against yours, glancing down his nose at you, watching as you continue to nibble on some stupidly sugary treat.
“You okay, sport?” Nolan raises a brow and you hum. “No.” You answer. Honest and transparent, before bringing up one of your fingers, a manicured and glittery nail scratching at the bridge of your nose. “But it’s fine’s. It’s not that deep.”
Nolan’s face tugs into a frown, your expression of nonchalance faltering just a little bit as you continue to try to occupy yourself with your treat. Trying to ignore the sting in your eyes, as well as the lump In your throat and the heavy pit in your belly.
“You’ll still have Debbie. And William. And you know, normal people.”
“Mr Nolan, you’re not very good at trying to make me feel better.”
“Well, we don’t… on Viltrum, we don’t deal with things like these.” Nolan hums softly.
And there‘s a silence between the two of you before you break it.
“I know you killed the Guardians.” And you glance towards Nolan, taking another bite of your ice cream sandwich. And he lets out a sound from the back of his throat. Before letting out a breath. “You probably had a good reason though, right?”
You stare up at Nolan from beneath your lashes, brows scrunching and he lets out a breath.
This makes him feel a little bit guilty.
Nolan thinks back to Mark’s baseball game. Barely to his hip, tiny legs carrying him on the wind, sunshine beating down on everyone.
But Nolan particularly thinks of the way he scooped Mark up into his arms. The moment his humanity grew.
“Did you see, Dad? Did you see?” Mark chirps with excitement, toothy grin plastered on his chubby face as he stares up at Nolan, feeling as he sets him down on the soft, emerald hued blades of grass.
“Sure did, champ.” Nolan beams, meaty fingers ruffling Mark’s hair before the seven year old trudges towards you, bouncing on his feet as he stands in front of you. Just a few inches shorter than you.
“Did you see? Did you see me run?” Mark cheers, voice bubbly with excitement, dimples in his cheeks and you nod, enthusiasm oozing from you.
“You ran like a motherfucker, Mark!” “Hey!” Debbie’s ears burn with embarrassment, Nolan’s brows raise. “No cursing, young lady.”
“But Mark did run like a motherfucker.”
“Yeah, I ran like a motherfucker!”
Nolan remembers the way Debbie stressed, trying to keep your foul mouth shut with incessant ‘shushing’. But parents’ head still turned in your direction.
Your excitement was contagious if anything. Especially when you whooped.
“Marky ran like a motherfucker!”
Nolan presses his lips against the crown of your head, heart clenching as he hums.
“Yeah, kiddo.” Nolan nods. “A good reason.”
There’s a soft silence, comfortable but it belies more to come. Worse to come. And you swallow, eyes staring ahead at the emptiness of the pasture fields, green grass and bright turbines and windmills that break the horizon.
“Can you run like a motherfucker”
“Yeah.” Nolan snorts. “I can run like a motherfucker.”
You never really expect yourself to get caught in the middle of villain attacks. But you’re eternally unlucky.
“Any last words, girl?” The Mauler twins gleam at you, meaty blue arms crossed over broad chests before a stupidly large gun is pointed at your forehead.
And the dread mixes with a twisted sense of ‘they mad sexy’, all in the pit of your belly, and you think. Long and hard as to what you’d what scrawled on your tombstone.
“B-O-A-F.” You spell. “Boaf.”
Your eyes squeeze shut when a chunky digit rests over the trigger, readying itself as deep, burly chuckles echo around you. “Funny girl, aren’t you?”
The air around you whips.
“Can you ever be serious?”
Mark’s voice breaks the tension, and your body nearly melts, and you stare up at him. He flies effortlessly, easily gliding through the sky like he’s been doing it all his life. He's a flash of blue and yellow, a bold beacon in the shining afternoon Sun, and you can’t help your intrusive thoughts.
Reaching a hand up and you begin to flick at his earlobe. Teasingly and the giggles that slip from you annoy him a much as it makes him wanna smile. Mark bites the inside of his cheek to bite back a grin, craning his neck as far from you as he can without dropping you.
“Stop-stop it— hey—” he glares down at you from behind his goggles, “—stop it.”
But you can’t take Mark serious when the corners of his mouth are twitching, and his fingers flex as he looks down at you.
Just a bit frazzled, but what really catches his eye, is that Seance Dog T-shirt you’re wearing.
Mark lets out a huff, shifting you in his grasp and he presses you tighter against his chest, your ear placed right over his beating heart. And you can hear that unsteady and rapid thumping.
But you just chalk it up to the adrenaline.
“Where do you want me to put you down?” Mark questions you, his gaze fixed on yours and all he can focus on his how fucking cool it’d be to kiss you at the top of the building his hovering right above.
A 50 story high corporate building. Not the Empire State, but meh. Make do with what you have.
“Invincible! I need you!”
A flurry of pink assaults your eyes and within a second, Mark’s setting you on the roof of the corporate building below you. “I’ll be back, promise.” He flies off, and you swallow.
“She could’ve said something else…” You mumble to yourself, before settling down on the building, resting your chin on the banister that keep people from tripping over and you watch.
You even watch as Mark flies off, and your lips tug downwards into a frown.
Brows knitting, and you run your tongue along your bottom lip, taking a sharp breath to even out your voice as you fish your phone out of your pocket.
“What’s up, sport?” Nolan’s voice is just a bit staticky, the sounds of thrashing, followed by bone crushing as well as demonic gurgles.
“Are you busy, Mr Nolan?” Your voice is tiny.
“Never too busy. What do you need?”
You go quiet, teary gaze locked on the way the sin disappears behind the horizon, a golden and bronze glow emanating in the sky above you.
“Can you come get me, please?”
“Sure thing, kiddo. I’m on my way.” Nolan’s voice is considerably softer. “You want a happy meal?”
A teary laugh slips from you, and you sniffle, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.
You fiddle with the toy in your hand. Appropriately, it’s an Omni-Man action figure who karate chops. Never once have you seen him do it, but you’re not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.
Especially when you fiddle with it, making it chop against your knee before you take a bite of your burger.
“I’m… sorry, kiddo.” Nolan whispers softly. “I’ll have a talk with—”
“It’s okay, Mr Nolan.” Your voice is soft, quiet as you chew, gaze lowered to where cars occupy the previously blocked off road, a construction team already at work where the twins had fucked around. “Atom Eve needed him.”
“You did too.” Nolan whispers. “You were at the top of a building for Christ’s sake.”
“I know.” Your voice cracks and there’s a heaviness in your heart that you didn’t have before. A pit in your belly that makes it hard to chew properly and the lump in your throat makes it hard to swallow. And your brows knit into a little frown, features scrunched and you wipe at your nose. “I know.”
Your attention is firmly on the screen in front of you, your thumbs working at the controller in your hands, jaw clenching and your brows are knitted.
Mark stares out of his window, hands braced on the pane as he waits for you to turn him.
Dorkish grin plastered on his face and when you face him, your grin doesn’t mimic his.
And the lack of your crinkling eyes, your rising cheeks makes his brows knit and he swallows.
Your hands move to shut the window, shutting the curtains and effectively, ignoring Mark.
Your face… it was so cold. No warmth, not a lick of kindness in the way your brows were knitted. No amusement. No offer to play alongside you. Mark’s throat tightens and there’s a lump there. So, so very heavy and he trudges out of his bedroom, eyes glossy and wet.
You haven’t closed your window in roughly 12 years.
Mark steps down the stairs, his footsteps just a bit too slow to be normal and Debbie raises her gaze from the book in her hands, pristine brows furrowing in confusion.
