31
M arcos Flores.
It was his junior year, and Adrien was sitting on the bleachers, covered in yellow and maroon paint.
The art club was repainting the mascot mural and he’d caught a second to sit down for a break.
His sketchbook was laid out over his lap, concept art of his newest designs scribbled over the page.
He was finishing a prototype for a kinetic sculpture when a long shadow blocked out the sunlight. Adrien squinted up in confusion.
“Oh man, sorry,” the student obscuring his light apologized. He was dressed in the soccer practice uniform, gripping a soft water bottle. “Didn’t mean to creep up on you dude, just wanted to see what you were doing.”
“You’re fine,” Adrien assured him with a smile.
“I’m Marcos, by the way,” the boy introduced himself, sticking out his spare hand.
Adrien accepted it with ease. It was surprisingly warm.
“We were in chem together last semester, so I always saw you drawing before class started. Never got to see what you were actually drawing, though. You’re real good, that shit’s the bomb. ”
“I’m Adrien, and uh….” Adrien ducked his head and chuckled. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“No dude, I’ve seen your stuff displayed out in front of the ceramics room,” Marcos told Adrien, sitting down beside him on the bleachers. “It’s like hella good! Mural’s looking great by the way.”
“Oh, I mean, this isn’t—” Adrien stuttered, shuffling with his notebook in his lap. Marcos grinned at him. Down on the field, the coach blew a whistle.
“Ah shit, break’s over.” Marcos sighed in disappointment.
He stood, jogging down a few steps before stopping and turning to grin over his shoulder at Adrien.
“Hey, uh. If you’re free after this, a couple of us soccer team guys were gonna bop on down to Mel’s Diner to get some shakes.
You and your art club friends are free to come along if you want. I can give you a ride.”
“Oh!” Adrien checked his watch. He didn’t start his shift stocking groceries at Safeway until eight, which freed up a little extra time for him to goof off. “You know what, milkshakes sound really good.”
“They do.” Marcos smiled. He glanced back at the soccer team. “I’ll see you after practice then, huh?”
“Yeah, see you.” Adrien smiled, expression shy.
Marcos took off back towards the green, stopping to throw another one of those crooked smiles over his shoulder and almost tripping over his own cleats in the process.
Adrien clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.
However, once Marcos turned his trip into a goofy dance move and proceeded to do the electric slide back to the soccer team’s huddle, Adrien dropped his palm from his mouth and allowed himself to laugh alongside him.
Adjusting his attention back to his sketch, Adrien couldn’t turn off the beaming smile that curled up the corners of his mouth.
His chest was fizzing with excitement, Pop Rocks overflowing a can of Diet Coke.
It was a new feeling altogether, and a bit stunning in its intensity—but Adrien couldn’t bring himself to hate it.
Before Marcos, Adrien had never considered that it was possible to want something like romance for himself.
Romance meant sharing your feelings and thoughts and parts of yourself too painful to let anyone ever see.
It meant being vulnerable, it meant allowing someone the opportunity to hurt you.
Adrien had already had his share of hurt.
Why would he ever want to risk experiencing more?
Besides, it wasn’t like he was missing out on romance.
He didn’t need that. Hadn’t needed that.
What’s more, he’d always operated under the assumption that he was straight and simply didn’t have time to date girls anyway—it had nothing to do with the fact that he’d yet to find one attractive.
But Marcos changed all that.
1995
Marcos pulled his bright orange Ford Escort up alongside the marina, still lip-syncing to “Time After Time” even though the car radio was off.
Typically, Adrien wasn’t too keen on partaking in Marcos’ middle-of-the-night adventures, but with David and Jessica tucked away under the loving watch of Mr. and Mrs. Flores for the night, he’d allowed himself the rare treat.
“Aren’t we going to get in trouble for being up past city curfew?” he fretted, stepping out onto the street. “My mom will be beyond pissed if she has to pick me up from the police station.”
“Not even. My parents know where we are, so it’s not that bigguva deal.” Marcos shrugged, shooing away the concern. “The fuzz’ll really only get mad if you snuck out.”
“Sounds like you have experience.” Adrien raised an eyebrow, smirking at Marcos as he folded his arms across his chest. Even in the height of summer, the midnight fog was beginning to roll into the harbor and he had to fight to keep scales from forming on his arms.
“Eeeh,” Marcos replied, shooting Adrien a sheepish shrug.
He whipped off his coat, throwing it over Adrien’s shoulders.
Now he really had to fight the transformation, lest his flush turn bioluminescent.
“The popo’s plucked me out of a few situations, but nothing that actually went on my record.
I’m a good kid—Boy Scout’s honor!” he threw a hand up into the corresponding pledge.
“I just like wandering around at night. Worst that can happen is my mom has to come pick us up.”
“Your parents are way too chill.” Adrien shook his head in disbelief. “Even if I wasn’t in trouble with the cops, my mom would chew me out.”
“Man, what is her damage ?” Marcos grimaced as they made their way past the stone lighthouse and out onto the jetty. “You’re a teenager, not her built-in-already-grown-up babysitter. You’re gonna mess up sometimes , dude.”
“Mom does a lot for us.” Adrien defended her without thinking. “She does a lot for me .”
“Man, I don’t know. From where I’m standing, she mostly smokes and drinks and steals your paycheck,” Marcos condemned, hopping up onto one of the rocks that made up the breakwater.
“It costs a lot to raise three kids,” Adrien continued.
“Pshht, maybe she should have thought about that before popping out three kids and making two of them your problem.” Marcos shook his head.
He froze, sliding off of the rock and turning to Adrien with an apologetic look on his face.
“Sorry, man. That came out wrong—Jessica and David are awesome and I love them to bits. I just think it’s super uncool that she’s forcing you to raise them. ”
“I…” Adrien frowned, pulling the sides of Marcos’ bomber jacket tighter around his shoulders. The fleece lining smelled like Marcos’ cologne and the security made him a little braver.
“I don’t think it’s right either,” he admitted. “But… there’s really not much I can do. My dad died when we were little and… and she’s my mom, you know? I owe it to her.”
“Why?” Marcos frowned, leading Adrien down the length of the jetty, towards their destination. “It’s not like she’s done anything for you.”
“I mean…”
It was getting harder and harder to argue Marcos’ points.
What had Joyce done for him or his siblings?
Adrien would say that she provided them with food and shelter, but by this point that was pretty much his job.
It wasn’t like she was ever around to provide anything for them—cooking, cleaning, and transportation to school all fell to Adrien.
Hell, he didn’t even recall a moment wherein she’d been there to properly instruct him on how to be a person or how to navigate the world—that had been stuff he’d had to figure out for himself.
Stuff he’d had to teach Jessica and David.
Most of the time when it came to them, he was only doing damage control—correcting disgusting behaviors Joyce modeled for them, soothing them after one of her particularly violent rages, helping them navigate through social situations and extracurriculars that she couldn’t care less about.
Other than giving birth to them, there was nothing Joyce had done for her children—and they hadn’t even asked for that .
“She kept me alive when I was little?” Adrien landed on. It sounded pathetic even to him. Marcos looked at him in disbelief, shaking his head.
“That’s like… a super low bar, dude,” he said. “If you don’t do that you go to like… turbo jail for child neglect.”
Adrien laughed. “ Turbo jail ? You mean prison ?”
“Yep! They’ll ship her right up to San Quentin,” Marcos joked. His smile faded to a glower as he glared over in the general direction of the jail while muttering: “It’s where she deserves to go.”
“Wow, you aren’t pulling any punches tonight, huh?” Adrien shook his head, still smirking in disbelief. It was uncanny how Marcos was able to mirror what Adrien felt inside, but was unable to openly express or acknowledge.
They reached the end of the jetty, which terminated in a series of concrete and granite structures. Now midnight, the middle of the bay was pitch-black, and Marcos scrambled around for a moment before approaching Adrien.
“Sorry, gotta get my flashlight,” he apologized, but there was a lilt to his words that suggested he was smirking. He reached into the pocket of his coat, grazing his hand over Adrien’s hip several times in the process.
“Here, let me—” Adrien reached in as well, brushing their hands together. Marcos proceeded to tangle their fingers up, leaning in towards Adrien and gasping with no small amount of drama.
“Oh no!” he lamented. “You were caught by the Beast of the Sunset!”
“Oh no!” Adrien repeated with theatrical despair. “However shall I break free of his dastardly grasp?”
“Unfortunately, the only way to be released is to pay a fee of a gazillion kisses,” Marcos reported with a solemn look.
“A gazillion ?” Adrien returned, feigning aghast. “But my good Beast, I don’t think I have time to give you a gazillion kisses right this instant. You see, I’m trying to see the wave organ with my boyfriend.”