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"STEVEN, I'M BEGGING you; don't go in there, please."
"Why can't I go in there, Marc? What are you so worried I'll see? I've already seen a lot, so what can be worse than what we just saw?"
"You don't need to go in there because what's behind that door isn't important."
"Well, if it's not important, then what's the harm in me going in there?"
"Steven-" But Marc's words were no use. The British man had already tugged on the door and pulled it open, ignoring Marc's protests. "Steven, don't!" The mercenary had no choice but to chase after him, but it was too late. He was already through the door.
Steven looked around at the scenery before him. The rolling green hills, the endless trees, the swaying grass all seemed familiar to him. But for the life of him, he couldn't figure out if it was déjà vu or if he had actually been there.
"What is this place?" murmured Steven. "Marc, where are we?"
"We need to leave. Now," Marc said.
A gentle sobbing cut through the air, silencing both men before they could speak. They turned to see a man hunched over a grave, the curls that laid on his head in disarray. The man's cries grew louder and louder as Steven approached him. Only when the man looked up for a split second did Steven get a mere glance at his face.
It was Marc. The man was Marc.
"I'm sorry," Marc cried, putting his hands on his head in despair. "I'm so, so sorry." All Steven could do was watch. Watch a man be sorry for something he had no control over, something that wasn't his fault. "I could've done more, I could've done more."
Steven attempted to put a hand on Marc's shoulder to try and console him, but his hand went through the man crying his eyes out.
"We don't need to see this," whispered Marc, hating the sight of his past self weeping in front of his brother's grave. "Let's- Let's just go."
"I wish that I had died instead of you," Marc wept. "I wish that I was the one rotting in the fucking ground instead of you."
Steven refused to move. It was like poison ivy had wrapped itself around his ankles, unwilling to let him go and instead forcing him to watch Past Marc spiral further and further over the death of Randall Spector.
The tears that clouded past Marc's eyes halted for a moment when he felt the earth tremble from underneath his knees. Then, there was a loud, unfamiliar sound that startled him. Past Marc wiped his eyes and stood up, attempting to find the source of the noise as he ventured further through the cemetery.
He stopped dead in his tracks when he came across a cluster of graves, one standing out to him. There was a young woman sat next to a pristine and new grave. Even from a distance, Past Marc could tell she was upset.
