Co-Existence - Dark!Marco x Reader

--- Co-Existence : Dark!Marco x Reader ---

[warnings for creepiness, language and mature subject matter]


Author's Notes: In which Marco has a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on.  The Marco that everyone sees is the cheerful, kind, and optimistic freckled saint we all know and love.  …But little do they know that he has a hidden side that he keeps from everyone else, at the expense of his own peace of mind.  

Do enjoy... 8D

---

…

…

… Everywhere I go, everywhere I walk, their voices follow me.

"Thanks a bunch, Marco! I knew I could count on you!"

…

…It's always like this.

"You're so dependable, Marco. Everyone here relies on you."

…

… No one acknowledges the fact that I'm here.

"No matter what, I'd feel safe with Marco as my Squad Leader!"

…

…It's like I don't exist.

"You're really good at looking after everyone else. Aren't you, Marco?"

…

…They don't see me.

"Is that kid Marco even for real? He's practically a saint!"

…

…They don't know who I really am.

"Marco listens to everyone. He's the nicest guy there is."

…

… I'm just a shadow, smothered by the light of my other self.

I stand before the window of my dorm room, pressing my hand against the cold, glass pane. My reflection stares back at me with a look of dissatisfaction.

… No one ever gives me a second glance.

Every day, I listen to the same spiel. Praise after praise, until I grow completely sick of it. Marco is so great! Marco is so kind! Marco is always looking out for everyone else! The freckled saint of the 104th is such a bloody ray of sunshine! Hearing it left and right just makes me want to vomit.

Though the repetition alone is irksome enough, it barely scratches the surface. The thing that irritates me the most… is the fact that I'm not the one whom they're talking about.

But my Other Self… he just soaks it up with pride. Any compliment that gets thrown his way, he laps it up like some pathetic, starving pup. The more his confidence grows, the further he shoves me into my dark little corner.

… We don't get along that well, him and I. And yet, here we are. Stuck together in the same mind and body. He doesn't like it any better than I do.

One could say that I'm his dirty little secret - the aspect of himself that he's terrified of showing. I'm the only blemish in his angelic image, so he suppresses me as best as he is able. After all, I'm not the perfect saint everyone in the 104th believes me to be. Far from it, in fact. Where my Other Self is kind and generous, I indulge only myself. Since when do the needs of other people matter? My desires are all that matter to me, and I don't care what means I have to use to obtain them. Well, thanks to the tyranny of my Other Self, I've been denied the right to indulge in these desires of mine for far too long.

As I stare into my own reflection, I don't see 'me' at all. All that I see is a phony. A fake. An actor putting up the pretense of a straight-laced altruist. Somewhere in those dark, earth-coloured eyes is the real me, buried underneath layers and layers of fake smiles and scripted lines. But I can't see myself at all. The only person I see is my Other Self.

…But not for much longer. See? There's another difference between him and me. He thinks he's in complete control of himself. That he can pretend I don't exist, and carry the act for as long as he needs to without worrying about me interfering. But he is naïve, while I am cunning. What he doesn't realize that I'm just lying low. Hiding in the darkest, deepest, most obscure corners of his mind. Waiting for my chance.

Sometimes, it's as if he's forgotten me entirely. Or perhaps he thinks he's finally driven me away forever, never to come back. …He thinks that he's the one in control. Haha … I think I'll let him believe that, for now. Little does he know that I can spring up out of nowhere when he least expects it, like a shadow from beneath a bed. I'll fill him with all of these obscene urges and twisted emotions that no saint would even dream of having, and overwhelm him.

That's when I'll take over. It'll finally be my turn to shine. No more playing the innocent idealist. People will see me as I really am. My words will be my own. I'll finally be able to do whatever I want, and live life the way I see fit - for my own self and mine alone. I'll be more than just a repressed sentiment. I'll finally be my own person. And my Other Self can take my place in the shadows, repressed and forgotten. What sweet justice that would be!

Until then, I'll be meek and obedient… and let this pent-up anger, frustration, and bitterness fester for a little while longer. At this rate though, I don't know how much longer I can wait.

… I hate being ignored. I hate being trapped. I hate the fact that I'm messed up like this, the unwanted pieces of a splintered personality. …'Marco'. Who is Marco, anyway? The real Marco? The self-made angel that everyone adores? Or this despicable creature sharing the same head with him?

'Everyone likes Marco.' … But nobody knows who Marco really is. What would they all think, I wonder, if they met someone like me? If they knew I existed? …How would they react? Probably revolted, given the sort of person I am. But I know that I would rather be hated than ignored.

My Other Self can feel me seething with rage and fury. The palm resting against the glass pane suddenly strains against the surface, knuckles turning white. He knows how badly I want to break free, and he'll do anything possible to make sure no one knows about my existence.

I grind my teeth until my jaw hurts. Sharp, shaking breaths are drawn, even as my chest starts to seize up. The urge to put my fist through the glass is overwhelming. Shoulders trembling, I lean against the window, trying to sort out the chaos in my head. This never-ending battle against me and My Other Self. All the while, I think to myself with a bitter smile…

… I am pretty messed up, aren't I?

A familiar voice pulls me back to my senses.

"Oi… Marco. You alright, buddy?"

I feel a hand upon my shoulder.

Looking up, I find myself eye-to-eye with Jean. He's wearing his familiar shit-eating grin, but I can tell that it's just a mask for his worry.

"Something up?" he asks.

I want to say something, but my Other Self cuts in and roadblocks me before I get the chance. As always, I am forced to smile, and pretend that nothing is wrong at all.

"Yeah… I'm fine! Just a little out of it is all. Haha!" This fake cheer is giving me cavities. "Training took a real bite out of me today."

What a weak excuse. If it were me, I'd tell Jean how I really feel, and vent out my emotions. But no, I'm not allowed to even do that. The real Marco never complains. The real Marco always endures without making a fuss. The real Marco is always putting his own needs on the back-burner so that he can go around showing the whole world what a great person he is.

Such a fucking sham.

Quirking a brow, Jean observes me with a suspicious look, then lets out an incredulous sigh.

"Again with the honor student act, eh?" he drawls. A smirk crosses his features. "Honestly, no one's gonna look twice if you slack off a little, especially with today's exercise. Why bother putting your effort into martial arts training if we're not even going to be graded on it?"

Secretly, I agree with him. Halfway, at least. My Other Self is diligent in his hand-to-hand combat training only for the sake of behaving like a proper soldier. But me… I'd never bother putting up such act.

No. If I were to give my all in sparring… I'd do it for the pure enjoyment of driving my opponents to their knees. To beat them black and blue, and show them who is the true victor here. I would do it gladly, and with pleasure. The very thought seeing their faces, so full of defeat and despair, makes me want to smile.

If I was the one in control, I'd never hold back. But of course, my Other Self is just so fond of sucking the fun out of everything. A morbid parasite.

Just like now.

"I know, but it's still worth it to learn a thing or two," says my Other Self. "They're teaching it for a reason, so it must be important! We might need to use those skills one day."

Such a proper, by-the-book response. Naturally, Jean just rolls his eyes and shrugs.

"Whatever," he says with an apathetic yawn. "Once I make it into Wall Sina, I won't need to lift my finger for that kind of thing. As long as I make it into the Top Ten, it's easy sailing from there on out."

My Other Self is a little affronted. But really, I didn't expect any less from Jean. He's brave enough to speak the ignoble truth, I'll give him that much.

"As you say… Jean."

… He might be a little pathetic sometimes, but if there's one thing I've noticed about Jean, it's that he never puts on the pretense of being a good person. He's foul-tempered, arrogant, and quick to start an argument. Even better, he doesn't care who knows it. He doesn't hide anything, and he doesn't keep his flaws a secret. He says exactly what's on his mind, and doesn't sugar-coat his words for anyone.

I like to believe that we're both rotten people, except Jean is more honest about it than I can ever be. Ever since we became friends, I've always admired - and envied him. He is no one else, but his own true self - Jean Kirschtein, resident jerkass of the 104th. Why can't my Other Self follow his example, just a little?

Perhaps frustration is making my mask slip ever so slightly. I can see Jean's brows furrowing into a look of worry.

"Hey. Marco. What's with that face? You sure you alright?" he demands. "You're not really acting like yourself, today."

Oh, if only you knew.

How vexing it is, when your own best friend can't see the person you truly are. I want him to see me. I want him to know that I'm here, even if it shatters the good and pure image he has of me. But he has no idea that I'm even here. Right now, I want to shake him by the shoulders and scream at him.

'You moron. I'm standing right in front of you, staring you in the eye. So why can't you see me?'

But of course, the good and saintlike Marco will have none of it.

"Really, Jean! I'm alright!" Another forced-out smile. "Don't worry about me. I just need a full night's rest, and I'll be back to normal again."

As normal as I'll ever be, anyhow.

Jean shakes his head, wandering right up to stand in front of the window, next to me.

"Still not gonna complain, are you?" he remarks in a wry voice. "You never change."

His amber eyes fall upon a figure wandering up the winding path towards the women's dormitories.

"Oh, look. It's [First]."

I freeze. At the mere mention of that name, your name, time seems to halt to a standstill. Sure enough, there you are, just passing by on your way back from the gear shed. The sight of your face leaves me hypnotized. Try as I might, I can't look away.

…There is but one thing that my Other Self and I can both agree on, one-hundred percent. You've always… had that sort of effect on me. On the both of us. Ever since the day we first met, ever since we first heard the sound of your voice… ever since you looked at us, smiled, and told us your name… our thoughts have been filled with nothing else.

I am suddenly overcome with longing. On instinct, my hand reaches out towards you, only to be stopped by the cold, glass panel of the window. I can see my reflection upon the surface, reminding me of the one obstacle that has stood between me and everything I have ever desired for myself.

…Except now, he is barring me from reaching that which I desire the most, with every urge and fiber of my being.

Just like Jean and everyone else, you don't know who I am, either. And it torments me, so much.

For a moment, it's as if you can sense me staring at you. As you look up, our eyes meet for the briefest moment. Seeing Jean and me through the window, you smile brightly and wave at the two of us.

With a grin, Jean waves back unabashedly. On the other hand, all I can do is smile weakly as a red-hot color rises to my face, filling the surface of my cheeks with blood and making them glow with heat. I immediately retreat from the window, hiding my raging blush behind both hands.

"Ah, there she goes," Jean remarks lightly. He turns to me, and lets out a laugh at my expense. "You can stop hiding. She's gone now."

I say nothing. All I can do is stand there in the middle of the room and massage my burning cheeks like an idiot.

Jean's grin is half-teasing, half-sympathetic. "Man, you are crushing on her so damn hard. When in the hell are you going to do something about it?"

"Who says I have to do anything?" I mutter, a little indignantly. "I don't want to freak her out, or think I'm some sort of creep trying to make a move on her…"

Again, this is my Other Self, presuming to speak for the both of us.

Jean raises a disbelieving eyebrow at me. "What, are you saying you don't even want to talk to her? Or get to know her a little better? If you at least make the effort to be friends with her, who knows? Maybe one day, she'll start to like you back."

I rub the back of my neck uncomfortably. This conversation is treading on highly sensitive ground.

"I don't think that's possible…" I mutter, more to myself than anyone. "…For her to possibly have feelings for a person like me…"

'A person like me'. I know exactly who my Other Self is referring to when he says that. And it fills me with anger and humiliation beyond anything I've ever felt before.

Jean, naturally, has absolutely no clue whatsoever.

"Are you kidding me?" he gasps. "What's not to like, man? You're a perfect gentleman! You're kind and chivalrous when most guys are just animals at the core, even me! Girls are really into that! They feel safe and protected when they're around someone like you. I'm telling you, just be yourself, and you can't go wrong!"

… 'Just be myself', huh? And how the world can I possibly do that, when my Other Self keeps me buried day after day beneath a pile of lies and deceit?

I am the absolute last thing my Other Self wants you to see or even know about, the aspect of himself that he is most ashamed of. As long as he is around, I'll never be allowed to speak, interact, or lay a finger on you. All I can do is look at you from afar, unseen and unnoticed. A shadow, hidden by the light.

Jean is oblivious to my inner conflict. Instead, I can see a look of mischief playing across his features. I blink at him suspiciously. Just what is he up to?

"Well," he remarks smugly, planting a hand on his hip. "Laundry duty doesn't exactly make for the most romantic rendezvous, but I can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon off-training. I'm sure you two will have plenty to talk about while you work on that together."

I frown in confusion. "Are you talking about our chores tomorrow? Last I heard, you were the one on laundry duty. Not me. I'm supposed to be cleaning out the kitchen."

Jean smirks. "I switched us both. In return for my generosity and goodwill, you get to clean the stables for me next week. You're welcome, by the way."

My jaw falls to the floor.

"Jean! What do you think you're playing at?! No one gave you permission to set the two of us up like that!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jean just pats my shoulder amicably and starts heading his merry way towards the door. "You can thank me later when all is said and done. Just tell me how it goes afterwards, won't you? I'll be bugging you for the details. …Now let's go grab some food, already! I'm fucking starving."

Not a single word leaves my mouth as I watch him go. As I slowly comprehend the meaning of what has just happened - or rather, what is about to happen, something strange happens. My hands are shaking. My mind surges with fear, a distinct sense of dread of what may possibly transpire during our meeting tomorrow - yours and mine.

That fear is not my own.

It's my Other Self. He has every reason to be afraid, and the biggest one of all… is me. After all, our desires are one and the same, and he can only stop himself from coveting that which he desires the most for so long. The only difference is, his intentions towards you are virtuous. Mine… are less so.

As our thoughts turn to you, I feel his control over me lapsing for the briefest moment. That's when the realization hits me, such that I'm filled with a manic joy and triumph that is almost intoxicating.

The one person that has oppressed me for so long… has a weakness, after all. Now I know what it is.

---

"You've been awfully quiet this whole time, Marco. Is something on your mind?"

The sound of your voice breaking the silence sends strange jolts through my spine. As you stare at me with that wide-eyed look, it takes me every ounce of effort to keep my composure.

What's on my mind, exactly? … Oh, if only you knew.

My Other Self immediately perishes these invading thoughts, my thoughts, and clears his throat in a nervous manner.

"S-sorry. I wasn't trying to ignore you, or anything!" he stammers, smiling sheepishly. "It's just that… this is the first time we've ever had a conversation together. I mean…! We have talked before! Just not in a private setting like this… so quite frankly, I'm not quite sure what we should talk about…"

The moment he realizes that he is going off on a tangent, he turns red and shuts his mouth. If it were me, I'd be laughing out loud. Oh, what a fool he is. How fun it is to watch him squirm.

But instead of ridiculing him, all you do is respond with a smile. One that leaves me breathless.

"That's alright. We can talk about anything you like!" you say brightly, as you fold up the newly-washed sheets into a basket. "If you want, we can even talk about you."

"Me…?" Those words catch us both by surprise. Me and my Other Self.

"Yeah!" you chirp. "Come to think of it, all I really know is that you're from Jinae and your goal is to enlist in the Military Police." You suddenly blush. "Well… that, and the fact that everyone in the regiment seems to see you as a good person. You're always looking out for everyone else. And you always know what to say to defuse a fight, or make someone feel better. … You seem like a really interesting person. I wouldn't mind being friends with you, to be honest."

My heart races. In that instant, my amusement is replaced by bitter jealousy. Your warmth… your kindness… your words of praise… None of it is meant for me, and yet I don't want to share it with anyone else.

Damn it, why won't anyone look at me?

You notice that your conversational partner is a little tongue-tied at the moment. Without missing a beat, you continue right on.

"So, Marco. What do you like to do in your spare time?"

"…My spare time?"

"Yeah! Like, your hobbies, and such. What would you do on a completely free day, with no training or chores to do? What are you passionate about?"

…Such a simple question, and yet my Other Self is absolutely floundering for an answer. I can tell that he's wondering to himself… how would the good, saint-like Marco respond?

… Well I know better than anyone - the Marco that everyone sees as benevolent and angelic… is actually a marksman with a killer's aim at the shooting range. There is something so satisfying about hitting the target right where it hurts the most. Through the heart. Or right on the head. At the mere pull of a trigger, the firearm comes to life in my grasp, decimating the target in an instant, right in front of me. In my opinion, there's no greater thrill.

But of course, the sweet and gentle Marco would never say anything like that, right?

I taunt my Other Self mercilessly with these thoughts. He pretends to ignore me, but I can tell that he is frozen, too shaken up to think of an answer.

A puzzled expression crosses your features when your question is left without a reply. You quickly laugh it off, looking apologetic. "Sorry, was that a little personal? Haha, it's alright. I'll ask something else, then! Hmm…"

While you are busy concentrating in thought, a strange feeling washes over me. With your interrogation, my Other Self is growing more nervous by the second. The more questions you ask, the closer you'll get to discovering his worst secret. I can tell what he's thinking. He wants to hide. He wants to run away. He knows what will happen if he stays here a second longer, alone with you. But he can't do anything. He can't say a word, or move a muscle.

…Why? Because little by little… I'm taking control over us both.

Oblivious, you move on to the next question. "Um, I see you hang out with Jean a lot. By any chance, are you friends with anyone else?"

"…No."

My eyes grow wide. I can barely believe my ears. The word just uttered from my throat is my own. I just heard my own voice for the first time in an eternity. I'm the one speaking now.

As for my Other Self, it doesn't take him long to realize that something has gone horribly, horribly wrong. But it's too late now.

"Really?" you ask, blinking in surprise. "That's strange. You don't seem to mind talking with everyone else. But I guess they're not as close to you as Jean is, am I right?" You laugh a little. "It's funny though, the two of you are like complete opposites. How do the two of you manage to get along?"

Another question. This time, I have the pre-emptive. Though my Other Self struggles in protest, I refuse to hand the reins back to him. Now that I've assumed power over my own words, over my own actions, I  have no intention of letting go.

It's my turn to answer. Finally, I can say what's really on my mind. How I really feel. I can do whatever I want. Knowing this, a sneer of triumph appears on my face.

"Jean and I… are more alike than you think," I answer, with an edge that no one else has ever heard before. "We're both arrogant, self-serving, and rotten at heart. He's just more honest about it than I am."

You stare at me, shocked at my sudden change in demeanor, and the sheer amount of bitterness in my voice. That's when I realize…

…You're finally looking at me.

"Wh-what are you saying?" you ask, completely appalled. "That's a horrible thing to say-"

"Yes. I know." I smile cruelly, my euphoria rising with every second. "A person like Marco would never say such a thing, would he?"

Would he? I ask my Other Self in a jeering manner.

No response. But I know where he is. He's stuck somewhere in the back of my mind, trapped in the same cage where I used to be. I would know, because I put him there.

Hell, is he putting up a fight! That just makes my victory all the sweeter. I could gloat at him all day! How does it feel to be the powerless one now? To have someone else speak for you and shove you into some dark, unseen corner, where no one can see you? Now he knows.

But I don't even care about him anymore. All I know is that nothing can stop me from obtaining what I desire the most. Not anymore. I am finally free.

Drunk on my own whims and impulses, I take a step closer. The room is small and cramped. The door is closed. Here, there is only me and you. …And those wide, innocuous eyes of yours are pulling me right in. You remain frozen on the spot, not yet making sense of the situation.

"You asked me before…" I say sweetly, walking even closer. "…What is it that I'm passionate about?"

You inch backwards as I continue to erase the distance between us. "Y-Yes, that's right… What are you-?"

Before you know it, I have you backed up against the wall of the laundry room, hidden behind stacks upon stacks of folded sheets. There's no one else here to interrupt our little moment. Growing bolder with every second spent in sweet, glorious control, I place my palms up against the wall, right next to each side of your head. Limiting your movements. Trapping you.

You stare up at me, like a mouse caught in the hypnotizing gaze of a hunter. I can see the growing apprehension in your eyes. Unconcerned, I smile down at you, drinking in deep the features of your face. This close, your skin looks so smooth, so malleable and soft. This torrid imagination of mine is going haywire. I'm not just curious anymore. I'm tempted. So much, that it aches.

"How about I tell you…" I murmur, leaning in even closer. "What is it that I want the most, more than anything else in this pathetic, forsaken world…?"

I can see the surface of your neck clench and grow tight as you swallow nervously. By this point, I'm being pushed past my limit. There's nothing holding me back anymore. Not even myself.

With that, I move in even closer, allowing my lips to brush against the sensitive wing of your ear.

"…It's you," I whisper, without a shred of shame.

I hear your breath hitch. Something in me finally snaps. My fingers twitch. I can't suppress my desires any longer. My hands collapse from the wall to clamp down on your shoulders, preventing your escape. If I had known it'd be this easy to begin with…

… But then again, Marco would never do something like this, would he? Even out of the public eye, behind closed doors. Well, too bad the saintly and chivalrous Marco … is nothing more than a lie. A pathetic, ego-fulfilling sham. No. I am the real Marco. I am the dirty and painful truth behind his façade of goodness.

My actions catch you off guard - you can't find the presence of mind to even muster a response. Claiming my advantage, I draw in a harsh kiss of breath, and hungrily close my lips around yours. My mouth is filled with heat the moment I taste skin. The softness, the sheer pleasure of the sensation, shocks me so much that I break away almost immediately.

You gasp desperately for air as my lips pull away with a wet, popping noise. Staring at me, you're just as stunned as I am, and just as flushed red.

"M-Marco…!" you stammer, breath racing. Seeing the thirsting look in my eye, you quickly begin to protest. "W-wait a sec-"

Too late. I repeat the action, penetrating your mouth deeper this time. My lips move roughly against yours, craving every inch and every depth. There's no mistake, your taste is just as wonderful as I'd imagined. …No, it's even better. Only now do I realize just how much I've longed for this in secret… and I want even more.

Your gasps turn into pleading whimpers. What's wrong? Do you want more? Selfishly, I turn every assumption to my favour and hook my arm around the small of your back, pressing myself against your form. And none too gently, either. Your body arches as our lips lock tighter. Your hands clutch ineffectually at my sleeves. I can't tell if you're trying to pry me away… or pull me even closer.

Not that it really matters. All I care about is my own self-indulgence, after all.

But God, I can't even begin to describe it! As I cup my other hand to your cheek, tilt your head back, and delve into your vulnerable mouth, I can hear you moaning faintly. That response… The feeling of someone finally noticing me, reacting to my ministrations… It fills me with such joy, knowing I've spent my life in the shadows just waiting for something like this.

Because I wasn't just angry or resentful, you see. I was lonely, too.

My skull starts to throb. Little do you know that I'm fighting two battles at once. On one hand, I have you writhing and whimpering in my arms. But at the same time, there's my Other Self. If he had a voice, he'd be howling with pain and rage right now. At this very moment, you are seeing the worst of me. The worst of the both of us. The side of himself that he tried so desperately to hide away from you, for your protection. What I'm doing right now is what we both want. For all his virtue, he knows this. But he doesn't want his chances with you to be ruined, either.

…Too bad my actions may have done just that. But it's only fair. If I can't get what I want, then why should he? I know I can't win against him. The shadow can never be stronger than the light. I only have fifteen minutes of freedom to enjoy before he gets the upper hand, and throws me back in my miserable prison.

Well. For my own sake, I may as well make the most of it. I don't even know what I want anymore. If I end up doing something I regret… I wonder if it'll be worse than having done nothing at all.

I just want to feel alive for once. Even if the world ends up seeing just how vile and despicable I am.

My head feels like it's about to burst. My Other Self is fighting with everything he's got to retake control. I know I don't have any time left, if at all. Growling in defiance and anger at my own fate, my unchangeable circumstances, I impulsively scrape my teeth against the flesh of your lower lip. You squeal at the stinging sensation, trembling against my hold. Desperate, greedy, I trail my lips down the line of your jaw and press them against your neck. There, I bite down and suck forcefully, creating painful red welts. My palm is cupped against the back of your head, preventing you from cringing away from me.

Your face and neck is flushed red with heat. I don't know what you could be thinking right now - empathy was never my strong suit. No doubt you must be shocked beyond all comprehension, after discovering the Marco you knew was not the gentleman you believed him to be. I don't know what sort of presumption to make about your emotions… until, all of a sudden, I hear you speak.

"… You're… not the Marco I know, are you?" You murmur, voice trembling. "…You're… someone else… a different person, entirely..."

I freeze. My eyes grow wide. Slowly, I remove my lips from your red and bruised neck to stare directly at you, eye-to-eye.

You stare back. The moment I see the look on your face, I realize that you're looking at me as though I'm a complete stranger. Or perhaps… someone you've seen before, once or twice some time ago.

I immediately pin you to the wall, gripping you by the shoulders. You wince in pain, but I don't care. I need to know that what I heard from you just now isn't merely a figment of my imagination.

"You…" I whisper, locking my eyes fiercely with yours. "…You can see me?"

Gulping, you give a shaky nod. There is a strange seriousness in your eyes as you gaze at me directly.

I can scarcely believe my ears.

"Then… You know who I am? … You know that I'm here? That I exist?"

Again, another nod. Braver this time.

"…You're the other Marco, aren't you?"

My head is spinning with amazement. I still can't even begin to fathom it, the fact that for the first time, someone has finally acknowledged me. Not just as a shadow, dependent on the light. Not just as a fragment of a shattered personality.

…But as a person in my own right.

The revelation is more than I can register all at once. Emotions fill me, to the point where I am completely overwhelmed. To be recognized at last… and by the person I've always wanted the most to see me as I really am… I never would have dreamed it to be possible. Have all of my efforts paid off, then?

Looking closer, I notice that you are still trembling, especially against my relentless grip. I stare at you intently.

"…Are you afraid of me?" I ask.

You nod tentatively. "…A little."

As I thought. You should be.

I don't know if a creature like me is even capable of guilt, or regret. Either way, I am forced to reflect on my prior actions, one way or another.

This time I hesitate, before asking yet again.

"Do you… find me repulsive? …Do you hate me?"

I hold my breath, already anticipating the answer. No measure of selfishness, no matter how small, comes without consequence after all.

…But to my surprise, you shake your head.

"No. I don't."

I immediately wonder if you're lying, but the firmness of your reply tells me otherwise. That answer is just so contrary to my expectations, I don't know how to even react. …So I don't. All I do is pull away, creating some distance and allowing you to breathe a little more comfortably.

"…How long have you known?" I demand suddenly, narrowing my eyes at you suspiciously. "When did you first find out?"

You pause, thinking carefully on your answer.

"I… don't really know," you answer honestly. "Somehow, I've always known. I've seen you at martial arts practice… or at the firing range. Sometimes, for one brief second, your expression changes completely. And when that happens, I can see glimpses of the real you."

I raise an eyebrow shrewdly.

"I see. So you've been watching me, then?" I inquire in a sly voice.

You turn red, looking away guiltily.

I press the interrogation a step further. "So when you said you wanted to get to know me better, what you really meant was…?"

You answered promptly. "I wanted to know the real you. I wanted to meet you in person, and ask you why you keep hiding all the time. … Although now, I think I have some idea why…" You rub the sore-looking swellings on your neck, biting your lip a little.

"And to be honest… I still want to know more about you."

I stare at you sharply. Needless to say, I don't know what can possibly surprise me anymore.

Before you can say anything else, I invade your personal space again, pressing a palm to the wall and leaning my face in close.

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" I ask, a warning edge in my voice. "Do you understand what you're getting into?"

Gathering your nerve, you nod adamantly at me. "I do. Don't ask me why… I don't really know the answer. I just… really want to get to know you."

I smirk cruelly, baring my teeth. "Very well, then. To start with, I'm nothing - nothing at all like that Other Person." I don't even try to hide the bitterness in my voice. "I'm neither kind, nor gentle, nor chivalrous, nor self-controlled. What I want, I always get, even if I have to stoop low to grab it. Putting it bluntly, I'm the worst sort of person there is."

I lean in until the two of us are almost nose-to-nose. I can see the sheen of nervous sweat on your forehead.

"Knowing that," I challenge. "…Are you still fine with the idea of being anywhere near me? I can't exactly guarantee your safety, or your peace of mind."

"That's fine," you say to me in earnest. "… I still think the risk is worth it."

I arch a brow in surprise. "…What makes you say that?"

Once again, you defy every expectation I harbor… and smile brightly at me.

"Because… whether it's you or him I'm talking to, the both of you are still 'Marco'," you reason calmly. "You're him, and he's you. The two of you still part of the same person, in the end. There's no reason why I can't like the both of you… is there?"

That's when I realize that this entire time, my Other Self has been listening quietly.

At first, the cynic in me is completely appalled at the sheer naivety of such a simple and innocent answer. And yet, the more I think about it, the more the very idea compels me, until I find myself bursting with laughter.

This… this solves everything. Maybe is was the answer we've been looking for all this time. Me, and my Other Self.

Because, in the end, no matter how you look at it…

You are me…

…and I am You.

We've been fighting against each other for so long, that we've forgotten that he and I are merely two sides of the same person. He didn't want anyone to see me. I kept stubbornly trying find my own way without seeing the world through his eyes. As the rift between us grew, we lost sight of who we really are. It was never about one winning against the other. It was about finding a means to unite is both, to make us remember that the whole of an individual is greater than the sum of its fragments.

Perhaps you were that missing element all along. The girl whom we both like.

By the time I recover, I'm all laughed out. My chest hurts like hell, but it's cathartic somehow. Cleansing. I could still care less about what my Other Self thinks, but as far as I'm concerned…

…there's still hope for someone like me after all. Even with my faults and vices, there will always be someone out there who will notice me. Who will acknowledges the fact that I exist. But more than that, there is someone in the world… who will accept me.

Well, it's a great feeling and all, but the time for fun and play is over. And I've been such a bad, bad boy. My Other Self is of the opinion that I need to go into my corner to repent on my actions… and to my own surprise, I'm perfectly willing to go quietly. I'll return to the darkness, knowing that I've finally gotten the acknowledgement that I've desired for so long.

Really, that was all I wanted from you, after all.  Nothing less… and nothing more.

But as a parting grace, I give you a dark and ominous smile, reminding you that you had best watch yourself around someone like me.

"I'll give you back your Knight in Shining Armor, now," I drawl playfully. My eyes trail the handiwork I've left upon your lips and neck. "I think you've had enough fun for one day. I don't want to break you, after all. Where's the fun in that?"

My voice suddenly drops to a low murmur as you hold your breath nervously. "…But the next time we meet… you'll be a little more ready for me.  Won't you?"

Just to drive the point home, I swoop in and steal one last kiss for the road - brief, but passionate. One thing is certain… I'll definitely be missing this for a while.

You nod faintly, blushing bright red as you smile shyly back at me.

"Can't wait," you say, with a hint of boldness.

Looks like somebody enjoyed herself more than they let on.

Laughing in cruel amusement, I relinquish control, and hand the reins over to my Other Self. As he takes over, I return to my rightful place - in the dark and hidden depths of the mind we both share. Strangely enough, it feels less like a prison than it does before. In fact, I daresay I feel very much at home here. It's something I have not felt in ages.

My Other Self, on the other hand, is relieved to be back in the front and center stage, where everyone can see and hear him. The first thing he does, amusingly enough, is a desperate attempt at damage control. With that, he starts apologizing to you profusely.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" he repeats himself, over and over again. "I acted shamelessly… I should have done a better job of controlling myself! I promise, I won't let it happen again…!"

You laugh weakly, patting him lightly on the arm to console him. "Marco… It's alright. Believe me. In fact…"

You smile rather demurely, folding your hands behind your back. A light blush rises to your cheeks.

"It's okay for you to act like the bad guy, every once in a while," you remark. "… To be honest, I… I kind of liked it."

My Other Self turns bright red with shock. By the time he finally gets over himself, he laughs a little and grins with embarrassment. "Right… I'll definitely keep that in mind!"

Unseen, I am practically roaring with laughter at the unexpected twist that had just occurred. Yes, I have a feeling that my Other Self will be depending on me quite a bit for the next few days to come.  That is an arrangement I do not mind in the least.

…

… In any case, laundry duty gets done a little later than expected, much to everyone's suspicion. The fact the two of us have rather ruffled-looking uniforms certainly doesn't help matters. Neither does the fact that you are doing your best to keep your burning red neck hidden beneath the collar of your shirt.

All around us, gossip and rumors fly back and forth.

…

"Wow. Looks like Marco had it in him, after all."

"I guess even a saint like him has urges like that. Thank goodness! …I was starting to think he was some sort of machine, or something."

"I know, right? Did you see the looks on their faces? And her neck?!"

"I think we've all heard how the saying goes. …'Beware the nice ones.' "

…

You and I exchanged sheepish grins. This is a little embarrassing. That said, as we part ways to head off to our respective dorms, you smile warmly at me. I smile back. That is our unspoken promise to meet again soon. I can only wonder what will happen then, and yet I'm looking forward to it all the same.

Jean rolls right up and slings an arm around the back of my neck, flashing me that meaningful grin of his.

"And why, may I ask," I inquire wryly. "…Are you looking at me in such an obscene manner?"

Jean's reply comes as quick as a snap. "Hey, I did say I'd bug you afterwards, didn't I?" He jabs me in the ribs with his elbow. "So how'd it go? Judging by how purple her neck is… I'd say 'Huge Success'? C'mon, man. Don't hold back on the details!"

I smile at him sweetly. "Sure. Anytime you want. Just make sure you help me clean the stables next week, and I think I can spare a story or two.  Otherwise, my lips are sealed."

Jean cringed, reminding the deal he had made with me just yesterday. Forced on me, more like. Well, now it was getting thrown right back in his face.

"I knew it," he muttered, good-humouredly. "There's a Devil in you after all."

Hah. I think to myself. …If only you knew.

But perhaps, more people know the truth than we both realized. Me and my Other Self, that is. Strangely enough, they all seem to be perfectly alright with it. It's enough to surprise us both. Maybe our fears of being hated for our selfishness and our less admirable aspects are unfounded after all.

Well…even if we are hated by a handful of people, they're not the ones who matter. Our best friend… the girl we both like … they're the ones who will accept us, no matter what.

I tilt my head up, staring into the sky. The full moon is rising, shedding its glow. Once again, the brightness is the part that everyone notices first. I'm just a shadow, the hidden aspect of the true self.

…But it's not so bad, now that I've been acknowledged by the one I long for the most. As long as you know I am here… as long as you remember that I exist, somewhere in the darkest recesses of this naïve and idealistic mind, there is no need for me to cause trouble. I can just sit here, behave, and rest easy. I'll keep my desires to myself.

…At least, for now.