Chapter 13:Underneath the Surface

His chest swelled with cautious excitement. 

Hands slightly shaking, he dressed quickly, heart racing. He didn't know what waited for him downstairs, but anything beyond that room was a gift no matter how temporary.

When he opened the heavy door that led to the main floor, the breath was nearly knocked out of him. The air felt different cleaner, crisper, touched with life. The house was enormous, and the open space made him feel small, unsteady, like he was stepping into another world. He inhaled deeply, a smile still lingering as his bare feet padded down the stairs. 

The clink of silverware and soft murmurs of the household staff barely registered as David sat at the dining table, eyes fixed on the staircase. The moment he saw Mark descending, freshly dressed, a shy glow still on his face, David's lips curved into a soft, almost involuntary smile.

Tony, seated nearby on the arm of the couch, caught the change in David's expression. His gaze followed the direction of David's smile—and then he saw Mark.

What stunned Tony more wasn't David's happiness, but the light dancing in Mark's eyes too. He wasn't limping. He didn't look pale or broken. He looked… happy.

Tony's brow twitched. That wasn't how it was supposed to go.

Mark had barely reached the last step when Tony sprang from his seat and hurried toward him. "Hey, Mark!" he called out, voice louder than necessary. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt anywhere?"

Mark blinked, startled. Tony's tone was dripping with concern, but something in it felt off—forced, almost theatrical. He instinctively stepped back, answering quickly, "I'm perfectly fine".

Tony moved to step closer, his hand slightly raised like he might inspect Mark for bruises, but before he could take another step.

"Tony, stop."

David's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. The room fell silent.

Tony froze. His eyes locked with David's, who stood now, his chair pushed back. "I said stop it," David repeated, more calmly this time, but with a firmness that sent a clear message.

Tony stood still for a beat too long, the tension between them crackling.

Then, without a word, Tony turned and stalked off, retreating upstairs without another glance.

Mark stood frozen where he was, his fingers lightly gripping the banister. For a moment, his body didn't move—but inside, he was racing. Tony had never liked him, and now this sudden display of concern only made him more uneasy.

"Come," David said softly, stepping forward and guiding Mark gently to the dining table. "Don't mind him."

Mark sat down beside him, still shaken.

"Are you okay?" David asked again, his voice dropping to something tender.

Mark glanced at him and nodded. "I'm perfectly fine. Strong, even."

David smiled. "I'm happy to hear that."

He motioned toward the table, where a variety of dishes had been laid out—fresh fruits, pastries, eggs, warm bread, and a steaming pot of coffee.

"This is all your favorite," David said. "Choose whatever you want to eat, okay?"

Mark smiled for real this time, touched by the thoughtfulness. "Thank you."

They began to eat in peace, the tension from earlier slowly dissolving into the quiet comfort of shared breakfast.

The clatter of cutlery softened into a rhythm between them—easy, unspoken. Mark sipped from a glass of fresh orange juice, the coldness calming his nerves. Across from him, David buttered a piece of bread, stealing occasional glances at Mark without trying to hide the warmth in his gaze.

It wasn't awkward. If anything, the silence between them felt like something sacred—fragile and rare, a moment neither of them dared disturb with too many words.

David finally broke it. "Did you sleep well?"

Mark looked up at him and chuckled. "Better than I ever have."

David blushed slightly and lowered his gaze to the plate. "Me too," he murmured.

David reached across the table and gently brushed his fingers against Mark's hand. "Last night… wasn't just about the sex."

Mark's heart skipped.

David continued, "I meant what I said this morning. I want more. Not just nights—I want your days too. All of them."

Mark finally broke it. "Just because we had sex," he said quietly, not looking up, "doesn't mean I've given in to you, David."

David stilled, the butter knife resting halfway across his toast. He took a breath, his voice calm. "I know."

Mark glanced up, surprised by the softness in David's reply.

"I'm not asking you to forget everything," David added, "and I'm not expecting anything from you just because of last night. I know what's between us… isn't simple."

Mark studied him, uncertain. It wasn't the answer he expected. It wasn't pressure—it was space.

David reached across the table, his fingers gently brushing against Mark's. "Whatever this becomes… I want it to be real. And on your terms."

Mark didn't respond, but he didn't pull away either.

They returned to their breakfast, the silence now carrying a new tension—not the fear of breaking something, but the delicate beginning of something not yet defined.

And above them, still unseen, Tony leaned over the stair rail, watching… and fuming.

Mark played with the edge of his fork for a moment, then lifted his eyes to David. His voice was cautious, quiet, almost hesitant.

"David… what's going on between you and Tony?" he asked. "Is everything okay? He seems… troubled about something."

David set down his glass, meeting Mark's gaze with steady calm. A small, reassuring smile curved his lips.

"Everything's fine," he said gently. "You don't have to worry." 

Mark studied him for a second longer, searching for any crack in his calm. But David's face was unreadable—strong, steady, the way it always had been when he wanted to protect him.

Mark gave a small nod, trusting him—though quiet doubts still flickered at the edge of his mind.Without pushing further, he lowered his head and continued eating, the soft clink of cutlery filling the gentle silence between them once again.

Mark's brows furrowed suddenly. "Wait… where's Dnie? I haven't heard from her."

David looked up from his plate. "She went back to her house. I don't think she'll be returning anytime soon."

Mark's eyes narrowed. "But she's in the city. Why would she stay away from you? Last time we sneaked out, it was dangerous. How could you let her be on her own?"

David stared at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. Then, more softly, he asked, "You care about Dnie this much? What about me?"

Mark replied without hesitation, "You'll be fine on your own. But Dnie… she's not like you. She can't be left alone."

A flicker of something darker passed across David's face, jealousy, sharp and subtle. "They're not after her," he said flatly. "Her life isn't in danger."

Mark opened his mouth to argue, but froze.

They're not after her…

The words echoed in his mind.

His voice dropped, cautious. "Wait. Did you just say they're not after her?"

David's jaw tightened. He looked away, then gave a small nod. "Yes."

Mark's chest constricted. "Then who are they after?" he whispered. "Are they… after me?"

David didn't answer immediately. The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy like a storm on the verge of breaking.

Finally, he spoke. "Yes."

Mark's heart skipped. "That's not even possible," he said, shaking his head. "What deal could I possibly have with them? I've never even met those people."

"No," he muttered again, mostly to himself. "And if they are after me… then tell me, why?"