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[MARCUS OTTER]

Marcus was determined to get this the fuck over with. Go there, lay it out for Dorian, leave. He'd ignored any details of what the boy's reaction may be at all. He just wanted this over with. He was tired of the way Dorian made his stomach churn for so many different reasons. Tired of getting angry at every guy who looked at him. Tired of being possessive.

This had to stop. Dorian wasn't getting better, no worse. Who was Leo? Who was Samuel!? WHO THE FUCK WAS JOEY!? Oh, it made him so mad.

Then again, most things did. But this was the kind of rage even he couldn't get out by punching everything in sight. No, he just needed to cut this rage at the source. Dorian. As much as he'd grown attached to the little cross-dresser, he just...he couldn't anymore.

And that was why he was standing out in front of the boy's house, arms folded after he'd rang the doorbell (more like punched it).

Ignoring George's greeting, he stepped inside, and unclenched his jaw. "So, where's Dorian?" He grunted, patience shorter than usual as his foot tapped against the marble floors that he usually stared into upon entering the home. This time, the grandeur of the place escaped his mind. He didn't give a fuck about any of it. Not right now. Probably not ever again, if this went the way he was expecting it too.

There was guilt down in the pit of his stomach. Way, way down. And that was the thing he was fighting off with a clenched jaw the most. Why should he feel guilty? This thing had never even gotten serious, and Dorian had plenty more boys to keep him company once Marcus declared himself history.

"Can you tell him to hurry the fuck up?" He huffed (voice definitely not cracking in anticipation of what he was about to say and do).

[DORIAN MOORE]

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Dorian has spent the whole of the afternoon in his sewing room, material strewn everywhere and a little pieces of lace in the shape of a snowflake hung up against he wall. He only had three hundred more to do! He would easily do it before Christmas...right? He sighed, leaning back in his chair, smiling at the wall in front of him. It was his photo wall, with all of his friends back in high school. The ones he had really cared about. Caleb and Freude were up there, Freude not even looking at the camera, but Caleb with a big grin on his face. Benji looking a little worse for ware, and Percy, huffy as usual. Then there was Perry, giving the finger to the camera, cigarette clinging to his lips. Lastly, Marcus. Dorian couldn't help but smile. There were more photos of Marcus than anyone else on the wall - even Dorian who was well known for his narcissism. The photos were mostly of Marcus frowning, or trying to block the camera lens from his face. But there was one, in the sunshine, with Dorian's head in the other's lap where Marcus was actually almost smiling.

Dorian let out a sigh and tried to get back to work, turning his sewing machine on full blast. It took him a moment to realize that George was calling for him. Dorian! Marcus is here for you, Dorian sat up immediately and turned off the sewing machine. Shit, he wasn't even dressed properly! Just one of Marcus' old sweaters and a pair of cut off sweatpants. He wasn't even wearing any make-up. His hair was messy and tied back...he looked...like a boy.

Dorian frowned at his reflection as he got up. Did he have time to change? He heard George calling again, and then Marcus' voice. He sounded angry already. Dorian bit his lip and decided that he had no choice. Blushing horribly he made his way down the stairs; he tried not to let the fact that his bare feet were slipping slightly on the floor, bother him. Biting his lip he reached the top of the landing and could see Marcus pacing at the bottom.

Dorian rushed towards him, he didn't like keeping Marcus waiting. He was about to hug the boy and give him his usual greeting, but something seemed wrong. Stopping himself just short of the other boy he looked up, a little confused. M-marcus, is everything alright? he asked, his voice quiet as he reached for the other boy's hand.

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[MARCUS OTTER]

Folding his arms as he glared up the stares to where he heard Dorian moving around hurriedly, he blew out an agitated sigh. Come on then, let's get this over with Marcus. No need to beat around the bush when he asks. Just tell him you're done. He was thinking to himself even as he huffed up at the stairs again, Dorian finally appearing around the corner- for once not all dolled up in a skimpy dress and heels.

He was a bit more fond of this side of Dorian, the high school side of him. But he brushed the feeling of fondness off, reminding himself of the fact he was here to stop all this nonsense between them before it got any further.

He'd known for a long time that Dorian wanted more between them, he had always had the notion he could avoid the topic, keep the ideas out of the boy's head. But now that things were beginning to change, Marcus just had to halt this whole strange thing between them before any sort of feelings actually began to form. Ew. Gross.

Looking Dorian over once more before opening his mouth to speak, he nodded slightly to Dorian's question. "Yes, everything's quite alright." He answered curtly.

"I came here because I need to talk to you about us- or this little...thing between us." He began to explain, waving his hand flippantly as he did so, "See, it was all fun for a while. I mean everyone knows you're a good time, but now that we're both in college, I think we're sort of going off in two different directions. I mean, obviously we haven't had much time between the two of us lately, and you've found plenty others to keep you busy. So, I just think that it would be best if we kept away from each other. No more visits over here, or at my dorm, or anywhere. " He said finally cutting himself off when he thought he'd been rambling to long.

"You understand, don't you?" He asked Dorian as an after-thought.

[DORIAN MOORE]

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Dorian watched as George left the two of them alone. Disappearing into one of the rooms on one side, but Dorian knew he was still there behind the door in case he was needed. Dorian was grateful for that.

He looked up at Marcus, eyes widening slightly as he listened to the boy talk. Even before he had heard the last sentence, he reached to the hem of the sweater he was wearing, pulling it slowly over his head, hair tickling his bare back. He folded it neatly in his arms and held it close to his chest for a moment before he handed over Marcus' bit of clothing.

Yes, I understand, he said, voice hardly above a whisper. He looked down at the floor, feeling his eyes stinging, watering slightly. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't. He should have known this day was going to come.

I'm sorry, he whispered, the first tear running down his cheek. I know you never really wanted this, I'm honestly grateful you stuck around this long. he smiled slightly and looked up, standing on his tip-toes to kiss Marcus' cheek. He bit his bottom lip and blushed, running his fingertips over the other's chest.

I guess it was always going to be like this, wasn't it? I was so convinced you would fall in love with me... Dorian chuckled lightly, struggling to hold back the rest of his tears. Still, I'll keep out of your life, just like you want. I promise.

Dorian brushed his cheeks with the backs of his hands, taking the tears with him. Would you like to come up and get your things?

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[MARCUS OTTER]

Marcus frowned darkly as he watched Dorian remove the sweater, glaring at it for a long moment before taking it, looking back up to Dorian with an unreadable expression on his face. He should've expected the tears, he should've accounted for those in his thought process before he came here. But he hadn't. He wasn't prepared for the whole crying thing, which frankly made him very uncomfortable.

"If you're trying to make me feel bad, it's not going to work." He grunted at Dorian, trying to ignore the pitiful sniffling and how dejectedly Dorian wiped tears from his face.

Dear god, don't feel guilty, Marcus. It isn't your fault, he's just too damn sensitive. He tried to assure himself, folding his arms across his chest, his sweater dangling loosely and carelessly from one hand.

"Yes, whatever. I'll make it quick." He grumbled, not waiting for Dorian to lead him up the stair. Really, he just wanted to get away from that sad little face of Dorian's before he got another good look at it.

[DORIAN MOORE]

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I-I wasn't, Dorian mumbled, crossing his arms over his thin chest, trying to protect himself from whatever Marcus was trying to do to him. He turned silently and made his way up the stairs, closing the door to his sewing room so Marcus didn't take away his favourite photographs.

Walking past the other doors he opened the last one, walking into his bedroom which seemed unusually bare now he was going to be in there with Marcus for the last time. His tears had all but stopped now, he just felt...numb.

Slowly he began picking up the shirts, sweaters, pants and boxers that belonged to Marcus. He didn't even look at the other boy, he couldn't. Gathering the clothes together in a bag, he sniffled slightly. Putting the bag on the bed as he pulled out the bottom drawer of his dresser. Old photographs, tickets, memories they'd shared were all stored safely away.

Dorian slipped down onto his knees, tears starting to roll down his cheeks again. D-do you want....want any of these? he asked, picking up a couple of photos and flicking through them.

He reached one where they were both actually smiling, both just happy - for once - to be around each other. Why don't you want me any more? What did I do that was so terrible? he asked quietly, already dreading the answer.

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[MARCUS OTTER]

Watching Dorian collect up different items of his quietly, he huffed out, glancing around the room with a detached expression. He probably couldn't count the number of times he'd been in here all the way back since high school. The thing was, he really didn't want to count. He was not the slightest bit interested in remembering how many times he'd been in that bed, or at Dorian's desk, or using Dorian's shower. All he knew what that it was done. He was going to collect those things in go.

Glancing down as Dorian was stooped beside a drawer holding up old keepsakes of "their time together" Marcus waved it off. "No, you keep 'em, or throw them away, or whatever." He grunted dismissively.

Sighing out and running a hand through his hair, he shrugged to the boy, "No, Dorian. You didn't do anything." He settled for, although there were many little details Marcus could have nit-picked over if he were willing to put that sort of effort into this explanation for why he was calling it quits with Dorian. He wasn't going to delve into it, though. He didn't want Dorian thinking he'd effected Marcus in any major way. No, couldn't have that.

"I just think you and I are on different pages these days. Grown apart, gone in different directions. That sort of thing." He grumbled, taking his things a bit impatiently from Dorian.

"You'll be fine, though. You can scurry off into the arms of one of those other little boys who are always hovering around you these days. So, no big deal." He was muttering out despondently as he readjusted everything in his arms.