31
1705 Words
Shock and disbelief rooted Markus to the floor as he blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. "No, Jaxon, please. You don't mean that."
"Yeah, Mark. I do. You're too overbearing, too overprotective of me, and I need some space. At best, let's just try a month apart. Take this time to think about how you're behaving, while I take time to settle my score with the past." Sensing the confusion from his boyfriend, Jaxon winced at Markus.
Blowing out his cheeks as he zipped up his gym bag, Jaxon continued, "There are still some things I need to get out of the way before I can fully heal, Mark. I'm not asking for us to see other people, and I’m not saying we have to break up, but we do need time apart. I just want you to stop being so protective and to start believing in me and my skills. If you can't, then I don't know what to say."
“Just tell me what you need, then,” Markus argued, his heart hammering.
Sadness seeped into Jaxon’s dark eyes. “I want what I’ve always wanted from you. Understanding, trust, loyalty, and respect. I want you to back off on the overprotectiveness. I need you to stop being so jealous all the time, too.”
“Is that all?”
Jaxon stared at him, shock and disbelief taking over his mind. “Is… Mark, do you hear yourself? Are you actually listening to my concerns or are you going to brush me off again? I’m sick of having to defend myself against baseless accusations. Like today, when I told you I had to train, you canceled a freaking trip with your brother to watch. It’s not that I mind, but Lukie was looking forward to camping alone with you for a change. Admit it. You thought I was cheating because neither of you would be here to watch me, didn’t you?”
Emotionally torn, Markus looked away bashfully. “Yeah.”
“And that’s exactly why I desperately need to have time away from you right now. I can’t deal with your problems and ignore my own anymore, Mark. I back-burnered my own healing to help you with yours. I get it, I do. You love me, you don’t want me to get hurt. I want the same for you, but, Babe, I need space to grow and learn to take care of myself. So, that said, the moment I walk out that door is the start of our one-month separation. If you contact me in any way, have me followed, or continue the other suffocating behaviors, I will extend it. If it persists, we’re done-done,” Jaxon stated as he shouldered his bag. The door swung shut behind him, his footsteps fading with each step he took.
Rage built inside Markus as he struggled to control his anger. He didn't want to believe that it was over. His hands clenched and unclenched several times.
His breaths came in short and sharp as he attempted to barricade his emotions behind an impenetrable wall. He was losing, and he knew it.
Letting out a roar, he twisted to slam his fist into the thin metal lockers. His knuckles stung as he pulled them away from the massive, fist-shaped dent he left in the door. The lock had been snapped off, leaving the object bent beyond repair.
Again, the door opened, and Markus looked up to see Declan staring at him. The auburn-haired man's arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyes burned like twin pools of blue fire. Narrowing his gaze, Declan sneered in disappointment. "Your emotional control is warped. You need to get it together, Mark."
"There's nothing wrong with my control, Declan."
Pointing to the locker, the man raised a brow. "I'm not so sure about that."
Guiltily staring at the damage he'd done, Markus took a breath. "He left me, so excuse me if I'm a little more than a bit testy right now, okay?"
Moving fast, Declan rammed his fist into the young man's stomach. Grasping Markus by the shirt before he hit the floor, he glared into Markus's grey eyes. "You're not testy, you little s**t. What you just did is what we men call taking a tantrum, and that's going to come to an end if you want to live a full f*****g life. You're not some snot-nosed brat that's ignorant of the inner workings of the criminal underworld. So, what you're going to do next is pull up your adult pants and fix your issues."
Still grappling for control over his emotions, Markus closed his eyes. He knew Declan was right, but it didn't make the truth any easier to swallow. He'd done this to himself, and now he needed to get out of it.
Declan shook his head. "I brought you here today to show you what he could do, and all you said to him was 'I don't like it'."
"What was I supposed to say? Good job? You could have taken him blindfolded?" Mark argued.
Mocking laughter bounced off the metal lockers, taunting him. "That would have been better than focusing on the few bruises he had."
Frustrated and knowing that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with one of the most stubborn kids he helped raise, Declan grunted a laugh. "Go talk to your father, and, for f**k's sake, get your s**t figured out. I'm getting too old to be dealing with your personal issues when I got my own. Get the hell out of my face, and grow some common f*****g sense before I beat it into you, understand me?"
Nodding, Markus dragged himself out of the building. He pulled out his cell and tried calling Jaxon. He sobbed when it went straight to voicemail. Jaxon always had his phone on and fully charged, so he knew that the man had intentionally ignored the call. He couldn't really refute that his emotional control was all over the place.
Thinking back, he realized that his boyfriend had grown from a skin-and-bones teenager into a handsome, muscular man with a mouthwatering body. Entering the front door of the building that served as both the headquarters and housing for numerous members of the Veiðimenn mafia, he could feel the eyes following his every movement.
Out of nowhere, a fist connected with his cheek, sending him unceremoniously to the floor. Looking up, he was faced with his fuming brother. “What the—?"
"Do you have a freaking brain, or is that space between your ears empty? My best friend just cried himself to sleep because you made him feel like his years of training were all for nothing. He's not just doing it to get stronger, Mark. He's doing it to watch your back like you watch his, you asshole."
"Seriously, Lukas? You couldn't let a lady go first?" Kennedy snapped as she stalked over to him. Thankfully, she was holding her toddler in her arms.
"Since when are you a lady?" One of the guards snickered.
Handing her boy to Lukas, she grabbed Markus by the throat. "What the f**k is wrong with you? Are you that weak and pathetic that you have no confidence in his abilities, or do you have none in yourself?"
“Excuse me?” He glared at her.
"Bingo," she smirked, dropping him back to the floor. "So that's your problem, huh? You're losing confidence in yourself, or you had none all along? Which is it, Mark?"
He glanced around at the stunned faces of the people around him. "Can we talk somewhere else?"
She hauled off and nailed him in the stomach, watching as he doubled over while he gasped for breath.
"Kennedy, please! No more,” Markus gasped, trying his best to keep his late lunch off the floor. “I'll do it, okay? I'll work on myself, just don't hit me again."
Dropping to look him in the eye, she said, "Stop second-guessing yourself. By letting those emotions get the better of you, you're only damaging your relationship. He wants to be with you, not every other guy in sight."
A few hours later, Markus walked into the dimly lit hole-in-the-wall known as Carson's Bar and Grill. It wasn't strange to see several mafia members playing pool or knocking back shots in the place, mostly due to the fact that the owner worked for them. Joining his father at the bar, he took a stool. "Thanks for coming, Dad."
Trace glared at his son. He had wanted to let him fall on his ass, to tell him to solve his own issues. Raising his eyes to the barkeep, he said, "Anthony, can I get a couple of beers?"
Grabbing two of the coldest beers in the cooler, Anthony handed them over. Shifting his glare back to his oldest son, Trace cleared his throat. "I heard. I want to know what the f**k you did to push that darling little boyfriend of yours away when I specifically told you not to let him get away."
Taking a breath, Markus stared at the bottle in his hand. "He said that I'm too overprotective, but I don't see it, Dad. I know that I gotta work on myself, but why did he have to leave me for an entire month?"
Sucking in his lip, Trace stared blankly at the young man his son had become. "You're damn lucky he gave you a month to change, and didn't say f**k it and walk away for good."
"I thought you said you weren't going to lecture me."
Trace rolled his eyes. "You're so worried about Jaxon getting hurt that you failed to see you were smothering him. You failed to see that all he wanted was your praise. He gets plenty of it from everyone else, but he wants it from you, too."
Mark's head dropped into his hands. "Then why can't I see it?"
"Because you're too stubborn to admit you're in the wrong," Trace said as he took a swig of his drink. "Take the chance he’s gifted you, and make the most of it."
Trace watched as the resolve in his son's eyes hardened.
- Writer
