Sick Child - MarkoxOC

Part 29: alone, together

She shouldn't have let it slip, not in front of David. Not that these things mattered anymore, but Sofie feels desperate to cling on to the last gasps of her humanity.

It's her birthday. David found out two days ago and was practically giddy. The boys are bored, restless, and tired of being cooped up - actually, David is. They're going out tonight. David is anxious for a good hunt. Sofie can feel the urge pulsing through him. If she's honest with herself, she is too. The quick kills are somewhat satisfying, but it's nothing quite like sprinting after your prey down the beach, practically tasting their fear floating on the summer breeze. She hates that she misses it so much.

They've been hiding from Detective Ridge for almost two months. David's presence has become like nails on a chalkboard. Everyone is on edge around him. He's growing bored of Star, while Star is becoming more and more distant from him and the rest of the boys. Sofie senses something awakening deep within her friend, but if she knows anything specific, she doesn't say much. Star flocks to Sofie for comfort and adult conversation, which Sofie offers, sometimes in excess. Star plays cards and chess with Laddie; she takes him for burgers and carries his limp rag doll body to bed when he falls asleep on the couch. She's become his more permanent caregiver over the past month and a half. Laddie seems to enjoy having a more motherly figure around.

Sofie and Marko spend their evenings at the cave, or at her apartment, reading, watching TV, and tumbling around in their bed. David has advised them to completely avoid the boardwalk and has asked that Sofie dodge the detective's calls. He only shows up to her work once. She answers a few mundane questions and breathes a sigh of relief as his car peels out of the parking lot, but other than that, life has been fairly ordinary. She goes to work at night and comes home to find Marko reading on the couch with a slice of pizza in his hand. He always saves her the last piece. They squabble over the remote, over who picked the TV show the night before, who takes the garbage out, and whose turn it is to do the dishes. Sometimes they feel exactly like a married couple rather than two monsters who sprout fangs and guzzle blood like it's water. She enjoys the calmness; the heartbeat of normalcy, as fleeting as it is.

They're perched on the bed, surrounded by candles while a Motley Crüe record plays in the background. The sound is strangled as it pours from the speakers. Sofie's makeup bag has been gutted and its contents lay scattered on the sheets. Marko is sitting on his haunches holding a small brush in his hand while balancing a pot of black eyeliner on his bare knee. Sofie's eyes are firmly shut. It's the hundredth time he's told her to keep still, but she keeps laughing or squealing whenever he comes near her with the brush. With one hand, he's grasped her gently by the chin while the other rests on her cheek. She hasn't worn makeup in the longest time, save for her signature poppy red lipstick. She's been complaining about it for the past few days. While he's told her she's beautiful and she's slowly beginning to come around to the idea, she misses getting dolled up - a part of her femininity that was abandoned the moment she agreed to immortality. No mirrors means no complicated makeup. Tonight, Marko insists on helping her.

"Marko!" She hisses as he holds her chin firmly in place. "You're going to poke my eye out!"

"Only if you don't stop moving," he says, his voice still husky from sleep.

"Sorry," she mumbles. "I'm just used to doing this myself."

"Yeah, well, without a mirror, you're going to look crazy," he replies, dragging the brush gently across her eyelid. "I know what I'm doing."

"I don't believe you," she laughs.

"I used to do this for my sister all the time."

She stills and Marko takes his chance to flick the line out into a beautiful, thick wing. He blows gently on the line to dry it quickly.