Vincent's fingers lingered on Marcus's freshly bandaged side, the heat of the skin beneath the gauze still radiating. The kitchen had gone quiet; Christopher and James had retreated to the counter with their coffee, pretending to be absorbed in the steam. The only sounds were the rain tapping at the window and the faint hum of the refrigerator. Vincent's voice cut through the hush, low but insistent.
"Tell me everything. From the beginning. Your life birth to now. No more half-truths. Just let me know everything about you. Everything."
Three pairs of eyes darkened at once. Christopher's smirk faltered. James set his mug down with a soft clink that sounded too loud in the silence. Marcus forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"If you want to know," he said, voice steady but rough, "you'll know."
He leaned back against the couch, gaze drifting to the rain-streaked window, and the room dissolved into memory.
---
FLORENCE, ITALY – 1998
