Page 73 of Contested

“So, is your house really quiet?”

Marcos let out a loud laugh, throwing his head back before composing himself. “Sorry. Uh, no. The opposite. My mum doesn’t speak a lot of English, so it’s been hard for her to learn sign language. So, she speaks in Spanish most of the time, and I translate for Paula.”

“Wait.” Sebastian leaned back again, his thumb now tracing Marcos’ hand. “So, you have to translate your mum’s Spanish to English and then translate that to sign language and then back again?”

Marcos hummed. “Then my dad can’t speak Spanish, and my other sister is still learning Spanish and sign language.”

“So, you’re just a human translator, huh?”

“It feels like that sometimes.” Marcos chuckled. “But I like it. Makes me feel needed.”

Sebastian smiled at Marcos, though it faltered once he thought about his own family. The steadily growing gap between him and his parents. The way he’d told his sister he’d try to talk to her more, but still had barely made the effort.

He was so used to not being needed that he didn’t know how to answer when someone called on him.

“What about you?” Marcos asked, adjusting himself on the couch, pulling himself closer to Sebastian. “Any siblings?”

“I have an older sister.”

“So, you’re the baby?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Little baby Sebastian.”

Sebastian tried to push away from Marcos, who shifted to wrap his arms around him and pull him closer. Sebastian fought a little, but not hard, allowing Marcos to trap him. It was childish and stupid and exactly what he needed before the family questions became too sharp. Marcos was warm against his back, still careful even while he held him, his arms firm without locking Sebastian in place.

“Whatever,” Sebastian mumbled, a smirk growing on his face as he felt Marcos’ warmth.

“Tell me more about your family,” Marcos said, his breath on Sebastian’s ear, sending chills down his spine and causing goosebumps to rise on the back of his neck.

“Not a lot to tell,” Sebastian said. “I don’t really talk to my sister. I grew up with my grandparents. That’s about it.”

“Do your grandparents speak English?”

“Not really. We only really talk in Vietnamese.”

Marcos nodded into Sebastian’s shoulder. “Why don’t you talk to your sister?”

The question sat in the air for longer than it needed to as Sebastian rolled it over in his mind. There was nothing complicated about the answer. That was what made it harder. They had grown up in the same family at different times.

“We just sort of drifted,” Sebastian said simply, and was thankful when Marcos left it alone.

Instead, Marcos untwined his hand from Sebastian’s and brought it to his face, brushing Sebastian’s fringe up and watching it fall right back where it had been. The touch was soft enough that Sebastian stopped thinking about the answer he had not given. Marcos did it again, slower, his fingers pushing the hair away with a focus that made Sebastian feel too seen for something so small.

“Ojos bonitos,” he murmured.

Sebastian knotted his eyebrows. “What’s that mean?”

Marcos smiled, his hand coming to rest on Sebastian’s cheek. “I said your hair’s stupid.”

There was something behind the smile.

Sebastian caught it before Marcos covered it properly. A flicker of openness, then a retreat. Whatever Marcos had said, it had not matched the translation. Sebastian knew that much from the way his thumb lingered against Sebastian’s cheek, from the softness that had slipped into his voice before he pulled it back into the safety of teasing.

Sebastian let him have the lie.

“And you can get the fuck out of my apartment after that.” Sebastian laughed, pushing himself away from Marcos and struggling to his feet. “You hungry?”