Maybe Adam had hit them too hard? No, it had been a simple kick, just strong enough to knock out someone already a shot away from being absolutely shitfaced, practically a love tap! With his foot.

“Well, they did a toxicology report on them and it seems they were having quite the night out,” Mark explained, “Cannabis, lots of it.”

“...Cannabis?”

“Weed, Adam.” Mark rolled his eyes.

“I know what cannabis is...” Adam clarified in a mumble. “But doesn't that stuff normally make people calmer? Those guys were just foaming at the mouth for a fight. It--”

“Yes, self-defense-- Goodness. Adam, you probably killed someone, Richard may never wake up again, and the other two? They might as well be dead too.” Mark gave it to him straight, jabbing a finger into his chest.

“I didn't--”

“They're white, college athletes, and from well off families, Richard especially. Meanwhile, you're both sons of immigrants, David's black, you're bi and Mexican, you're orphans with a history of mental illness, currently on medication mind you, and poor.” Mark continued. “Restart can print 'equality and justice for all' on as many posters as they want, but let's be real here for a second, Adam. They could have had guns pointed at your heads, and you'd still end up declared guilty. You know why? Because you guys are at the bottom of the pyramid, and offended someone at the top. You go into a courtroom and you'll leave in orange, just like that.” He ended with a snap of his fingers.

Adam remained quiet and lowered his head.

He was right.

Fuck. Mark was right and he fucking hated it.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFCUK--

Breathe in, breathe out.

It was fine, he had just told him that he had taken care of the problem. Everything was fine. Yes, he was now indebted to Mark, but whatever he asked of him probably wouldn't be as bad as prison! Right?

Breathe in, breathe out...

“Now, where was I... Hmm...” Mark tried to remember his script. “Ah, yes. Alcohol, cannabis, and a swift kick to the head... Quite the mix. Perhaps you dislodged and fried something important in there?” Mark explained, gesturing towards his head. “I don't know, I'm not a med student. All I know is that they lost it. Wide eyes, senseless babbling, screaming, and bitting. They're like zombies, but not the lame 'braaaaaains' kind.”

Adam slowly lifted his gaze to meet his, still, silent.

But Mark didn't speak, instead, his smile slowly disappearing as he... made him wait.

Right, this must be his cue, now it's the time to ask “the questions”.

“Why did you do that? What do you want?” He asked, his heart still beating way too fast for comfort.

Breathe in, breathe out.

Everything was under control.

Mark's smile returned-- No, this one was... different? It wasn't theatrical, evil, satisfied or manic, it was... soft, soft as the hold warping itself around his bandaged hand.

“Because... When I heard about what you did, I... The thought of you getting taken away, it just didn't sit well with me, I...” He took a deep breath, and looked him in the eyes, his smile gone. “I've been bitter, Adam. For as long as I can remember, I've been nothing if not... alone, nothing if not starved for the tiniest crumb of affection, of friendship. And when you rejected me? All that loneliness, all that pain and sadness just became this... foul bitterness, this venom, this desire to hurt everyone around me. Especially you, my trigger.” He explained, caressing his wounded hand with his thumb as sadness filled his eyes. “But that doesn't solve anything. I realized that... The top is a lonely, sad place. I want to descend, I want to make amends, and... I don't want to hurt you, I want to be your friend. I think I always wanted to, all this time. But I was too blinded by pain to see it.” He said, looking like he was... about to cry? “I understand that I still have a lot to atone for... I hurt you so much over such a... childish squabble. But I hope that, perhaps, by helping you with this whole mess, I can begin my path to redemption, and prove myself worthy of your friend--”

The world went quiet and still... Warmth spread over his palm... His shaky, reddening palm...

Mark he... didn't look mad or sad just... shocked? Why... the FUCK DID HE LOOK SHOCKED?! DELUSIONAL, THAT FUCKER WAS COMPLETELY--

“DELUSIONAL!” Adam snapped, pushing himself away from him and getting up. “YOU'RE COMPLETELY FUCKING DELUSIONAL, AREN'T YOU?!”

Mark didn't answer, he just stared at him, pressing a hand where a red mark had begun to grow on his face.

“Redemption? Friendship-- I didn't want to be your friend then, you annoying, attention seeking FUCK! What makes you think I would want to now? After years of you torturing me-- YOU KNOW HOW MANY SCARS I HAVE BECAUSE YOU?! YOU KNOW HOW MANY TIMES I WOKE UP FEELING LIKE SHIT BECAUSE OF YOU?! HOW MANY FUCKING NIGHTMARES YOU GAVE ME-- You took her away from me...” He said, his chest burning so hot it hurt, his eyes beginning to sting. “You took my mom away from me and, even after all theses years, you CAN'T EVEN GIVE THE FUCKING CLOSURE OF JUST COMING CLEAN ABOUT IT! YOU HURT ME, KILLED MY MOM, HURT DAVID, AND ARE NOW THREATENING CASSIE! You... You're...”

He was... smiling... that satisfied, smug smile...

Oh.

It was just an act...

Oh, fuck.

Adam looked up at him, his vision wavering as his eyes burned, caught between a wall and whatever awaited him next...

He wanted to lash out, he wanted to push him to the ground and TEAR HIM TO BITS WITH HIS BARE HANDS! But he couldn't... He was at the top, so he couldn't. And couldn't run either.

“I'm what, Adam. Tell me, what am I?” He questioned, towering over him, a hand pressed on each side, blocking his path.

“... You're despicable. Absolutely despicable,” Adam poured out, tears running down his face as he jacket was unzipped, “You're... insufferable, and no one wants you around,” He continued, a freezing cold hand slipping under his hoodie and shirt, dragging them along on it was up, and up, and... around his throat, “You're... fucking pathetic--”

*WHAP*

His legs failed as his lungs were completely emptied of all air, but Mark's hold didn't falter, keeping him in place as he coughed and wheezed.

*WHAP*

He used all his strength to keep his weight off his neck, feeling like his stomach was being turned inside out.

*WHAP*

He held onto Mark's wrist as his legs began to tremble, while his other hand covered his mouth as he tried to not vomit.

*CRACK*

The whole world went white for a second, a sharp pain echoing throughout his ribcage, spearing waves through his whole chest.

*WHAP*

*CRACK*

*CRACK*

*WHAP*

*WHAP*

*CRACK*

*WHAP*

*WHAP*

*WHAP*

*WHAP*

...

*thud*

...

He looked up, guided by a stern hold on his chin, trembling, breathing heavily on his knees, everything going in and out of focus as pain pulsed throughout his whole torso, arms warped around the pain in a futile attempt at comfort and protection.

“...I actually got you there. Funny. You've known me for little more than a 3rd of my life, goodness, you knew me before I even knew myself, and I somehow got you there.” He laughed. “Maybe I can pull a Terry Crews after I get bored of breaking bones, huh?”

Adam didn't answer, too breathless to entertain his performance, he could only glare at him through weak, wet, burning eyes.

“Anyway. You really want to know why I intervened?” Mark questioned. “Yes, Mark. Enlighten me, I'm a presumptuous dumbass and I want to know what goes on in your head, so I can set the record straight with my creepy armchair psychologist girlfriend!” He said with a bad imitation of his voice, squeezing his face to make him “talk” like a puppet. “Oh. Well, of course I'll gladly explain, Adam!” He said, with a children's show host excitement that rapidly disappeared. “We all have a role to play in this world, Adam, an archetype and a place where to stand as we play our part. I thought I knew my archetype and where I stood... I was wrong, and you showed that, plain and clear.” He said, his expression turning darker and darker with each word. “But here's the thing, I don't have to accept the role whatever sick god decides for me, their do or die. In fact, I don't have to accept much of anyone's roles! I changed my role, I changed theirs!” He said, lips tearing into a manic smile as he pointed toward the main building. “And yours? Also mine to change as I please, and as long as I have a say in it, nothing, not even your own stupidity will get you rid of me. Understood?”

“...What are our roles then? The bully and his favorite punching bag?” He questioned, his voice acidic from the vomit he had to swallow back down.

“I'm the king, and you? A god turned fool.”

Mark let go of him and stood up straight, fixing his hair and his wristbands.

“Now... as for compensation. I honestly haven't decided yet, and wasn't really planning on even telling you about it until I came up with something, but then you decided to blow up my phone...” He confessed, massaging his fist. “I mean, I pretty much saved your life, how would you even begin to repay that? Well, I'll figure it out soon enough, don't worry about it--”

*brrriiiiiinnngggg*

“Well, see you in cl-- Oh, right. You wanted to ask me a favor, didn't you?” Mark oh so suddenly remembered, crouching back down in front of him. “I'll put a pin on your other debt for now. So, tell me, what else have you gotten yourself neck deep into, to come to me?”