Sven came back from work on Thursday, and saw Mark smiled a weak little smile along with his usual greeting as he came in the front door. It was Claire who told him why.
Sven grabbed the big bottle of whiskey from off the top of the refrigerator, and placed it revelently down on the low table in his living room. He then glanced to the bedroom door. It was closed tight, but it was where he could hear Jake screaming his usual protests to having to go to sleep, and the soft murmuring tones of Claire as she patiently tried once again to read a story to his son. It was her turn tonight, and he had the highest opinion of her skills with the task. The toddler certainly did not understand a word, but he figured the ritual would be good practice for what would be coming in the future years. He found himself often dreading the future years, with a toddler that could not only walk, but run, about the place freely, getting into everything. And all that.
Anyway. Fatherhood was not what he wanted to think about tonight.
Mark placed two tiny glasses on the table, and plunked down two taller glasses he had grubbed up somehow along with the two liter of soda he carried The dark eyes glanced at the amber swishing in the whiskey bottle, and Sven saw the pink of the man's tongue lick at a corner of his mouth.
Sven nodded at the man, and hefted the bottle to pour. Mark unscrewed the soda cap, and followed suit with the taller glasses. They both reached for their respective glasses at the same moment, at which point they both held said glasses aloft and paused for just a moment.
"To Jan." Mark breathed.
"Janoos." Sven said agreeably.
They reverently clinked all the glasses together, using both hands to do so, and the ringing tone soothed some part of Sven he couldn't quite name.
And with that as a toast, they both tossed the amber liquid that was the whiskey down their throats. Sven grimaced at the burning sensation as he swallowed, and quickly gulped down the soda. The sugary soft drink did not quite overwhelm the nasty flavor of the whiskey, but after a few breaths, and a firm shake of his head, that awfulness soon passed his abused taste buds.
They were on to the third drink of the same toast by the time Jake had quietened down to little more than hurt sounding snuffles, and were pouring the fourth when Sven noticed Claire standing in the doorway of the room. He looked right at her and met her eyes, even though they were hidden by the shine on her glasses. She did not say a word, he supposed she chose to remain silent, as she turned back around and softly closed the door behind her.
When Sven awoke the next morning, he was still on the couch. Slouching into the flowery cushions, he scrubbed his face with both of his hands, and looked down at his feet at the passed out Mark. There was a quilt of a blanket draped over the man that he certainly had not placed over him, and Sven felt a little twinge of jealousy over that kind of a gesture he knew had to have been Claire's doing. He could not help thinking that it was he who should have gotten the blanket, but then firmly reminded himself that Mark was their guest.
Their guest that is, until that afternoon. Hangover or not, Sven would be at work when it would take place. He regretted that he could not be here to help the man out any, as he well knew that he had missed far too much work over this whole mess. He could not skip out for yet another day and remain gainfully employed. He was a family man, and they had to come first in all things. Even for something as momumental as this.
The yellow police tape was finally gone.
Mark was moving back into his old apartment.
A space filler.. ooooo.. a space filler
Sven slumped his shoulders as he trudged up the drive. He gave a cursory glance to the porch of Mark's place. It was strange to think of the next door apartment that way. Mark's place. It had a kind of weight to it, did it not?
The door was close on the porch over there, and there was a. Sven narrowed his eyes at the figure huddled on the enclosure. It was bulky and wore a dark leather jacket. Also a ratty and hole infested pair of blue jeans covered a gangly pair of legs. He saw chains hanging off the shoulders, and strangly thick mane of black hair that happened to be grown long enough to reach the mid back. And on top of that were the heavy looking pair of boots that enveloped the overlarge feet.
As Sven was approaching his front door, he could not look that way for very long with out tripping over a a stray rock, but he supposed who ever was on that porch had Mark's blessing. He was not all that surprised that it was most definitely male, considering what he highly suspected Mark actually was in terms of sexual orientation. And the leather was indeed a fetish of that particular group.
He lowered his brows. He found he was a little concerned that Mark had continued on so quickly, and with Janoos' old habits no less.
He grasped the knob of his door and gave it a twist, and froze and jerked back a step when the door flew open and from his grasp. He gazed at the dark pair of eyes within his own living room with some surprise.
Mark, for his part, swallowed, and even bit his lower lip as he looked away as quickly as a man ever could while still keeping a firm hold of his man card. Sven felt his brows nearly reach his hairline as he stood still on his own front stoop. He felt frozen in place, and watched the interplay of sorrow warring with deep grief flickering across the big man's chubby face.
Mark was supposed to be in his own apartment right?
What ever was the man doing in HIS place?
As if in answer to his silent question, Sven heard the slight rustle of paper,and looked to the source. Crumpled in Mark's large but pudgy hand, was an plain white envelope.
"You.. uh wanted to know when the service would be yeah?" Mark said carefully. Sven pretended he did not hear the quivering of emotion that threatened to spill over the man's tenious tone.
"Yeah."
"um, Here." Marks said as he handed the crumpled envelope over. Sven looked it over. The envelope was like he had thought, plain. There was no sending address, nor any sort of return address printed on the face of it. He wondered how it had arrived, and glanced over at Mark.
The man's eyes were rather too glassy for him to comfortably view, and Sven busied himself with reaching into the envelope rather than look too long at the clearly suffering Mark. It took some doing, with the paper being as badly crumpled up as it was, but he managed soon enough to free its contents.
The yellow colored pieced of paper was folded into threes and he made quick work of opening the sheet by rubbing it roughly against his pant leg. With his thumb and forefinger gripping a corner, he peered down at some might fancy looking scroll work that lined the edges of one side. His eyes lingered on that for longer than he would have liked, for Mark took in a heavy sounding breath.
"Will you come then?"
Sven glanced at the lettering, barely comprehending a single word he read, and swallowed.
He cursed inwardly at the awfulness of it all. The notice of Janoos' funeral came in the mail the very day that Mark moved back into his apartment. The date was set for the weekend. Sometime during the weekend.
Sven nodded before he dared to look over at the man.
He didn't look back at the man in leather standing at the porch next door. Instead, he chose to swing his own door shut against the world.
Sent via a stray supercharged nano particle of unobtainium....
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