Soft jazz music played from a Bluetooth speaker sitting on top of a short wooden dresser. Beside it, several white tealights surrounded a ceramic wax warmer. An orange-colored cube was half melted and emitted a cozy scent of vanilla, pumpkin, and cinnamon. Its aroma muted that of fresh, somewhat muggy air coming in through a cracked window.

Moonlight bathed the room in a pale, whitish-blue tint. Said color gave a spotlight to the bed sitting directly beneath a pair of long windows.

A wooden frame had multiple scratch marks embedded into the headboard. A few pillows were toppled over, lying on a fluffy mattress in random spots. Silky bed linens were ruffled in multiple areas. A thin blanket partially pooled over the edge of the bed with a majority covering bare body parts from the waist down.

Paul slept on his stomach. Both arms kept warm beneath his pillow, adding extra height for his head to rest in a more comfortable spot. One leg was bent at the knee, and the other was straight. His torso barely moved in accordance with deep, steady breathing.

An eventful dream pulled a delicate sigh out of him. The noise was followed by a soft hum. 

A gentle, unconscious smile came to life when receiving a loving kiss on the forehead.

Marshall watched his husband's sleeping form with a frown. Red eyes were full of tears. Stubborn trembling from his chin shed further light on his growing emotional distress.

He'd do everything in his power to force it all down for now.

Moving back into his own space, the vampire turned his attention onto the dresser by the door. A short, handwritten note was left face up. His perfectly executed script was beautiful to look at. The message, however, would only bring about a sense of longing when it was finally read the following morning.

I love you, and I'm sorry.

Clenching his teeth, Marshall gave himself a moment to confess how much he was going to miss this: his home, his belongings, his friends, Paul.

But tonight's recent developments acted as a brutal reminder on why Marshall couldn't stay.

The Forever Bond. A connection forged in times of hardship to allow those involved a great chance to flourish. It was a promise of eternal companionship for the remainder of one's current life, along with every single one to follow. The pain of separation was something they'd never have to experience since, with this new bond, they would always find their way back to each other again. There would always be someone in the world, waiting, watching, and yearning with every fiber of their being.

And, honestly, Marshall felt he was undeserving of such a magical connection. He thought he was too broken—too damaged—to be the recipient of everlasting love in such a high degree. It wasn't just pessimism getting in his way either; Edward and Rosalie's parting words, coupled with Alice, Jasper, and Emmett's last decision to try and kill their brother simply because Edward wanted it, played a substantial part in Marshall's need to leave.

He needed time to figure himself out. To figure out how to put certain things behind him before truly pursuing a new life where everything was different yet still the same. To come to grips with being tethered to Paul, legitimately, forever—and how this new development in their relationship was something Marshall could be worthy of.

He just...couldn't find the answers he was looking for where he currently was.

So, while donning a full backpack and having both hands tremble against thick shoulder straps, Marshall gave his husband one last glance before quietly shutting the bedroom door.

He maneuvered around certain stairs to keep any from creaking beneath his socked feet. Upon getting to the first floor, he was quick in scooping up his house keys and wallet. An old picture of Marshall, Brad, and Paul at the Tacoma lake house was plucked off of its perch on their retro refrigerator. Smiling faces were burned into the vampire's memory. The keepsake was pocketed, feeling heavy and urging him to stay home where his loved ones remained.

Marshall stopped short when noticing his combat boots were missing. 

Light humming from outside pointed to a single obstacle standing in the way of his departure.

A deep breath was taken. Slender fingers clenched tighter before moving toward the front door. Its metal knob was turned. Lightweight wood was pulled inside and pushed back into its original position upon walking onto the front porch.

Brad sat with his gaze pointed toward a colony of stars. Beside him, a familiar pair of black boots with untied purple laces were waiting.

"...I heard you packing. Figured I'd see you off before you go."

Marshall couldn't stop his tears from falling. "Brad-"

He was pulled into a tight hug before anything else could be said. 

A gentle hand cupped the back of his head, pulling him even further into their shared embrace. "You don't have to explain your decision to me. I get it. Really, I do. Coming from someone who's had to make that choice to leave- I know what you're feeling. I know you're doing what you need to. What you think is right. I'm not going to stop you if you think this is something that will help you in the long run."

Marshall swallowed the ball of tightness forming in his throat. "But..?"

"...But I can't lie and say I'm not upset." Brad's hold became more desperate. "I don't want you to go. To see you leave. To stay here, worrying everyday about whether you're safe or not. If you're actually okay. If you're taking care of yourself. I'm not going to hold you back from what you have to do. But I can't pretend that you choosing to go doesn't kill me inside. Because, as selfless as I can be, I can be really selfish too, hermano. If it were up to me, you'd never leave."

Marshall let out a short, airy chuckle. "I don't want to leave either. Still, like you said- this is something I have to do. For me to move on. For me to let things go. For me to...really start acknowledging my worth- I have to do this."

Both men separated, opting to hold each other by the arms so they could see each other's faces completely.

"You're really brave. I know this won't be an easy thing for you."

"It won't be. It's just more reason for me to do it now while I still have the courage."

Brad nodded in understanding. He knelt down to grab his friend's boots. With utmost care, he helped Marshall finish getting ready by helping him into his shoes. Laces were double knotted for a more secure fit.

They hugged once more. 

Then, with intense reluctance, Marshall walked onto the lawn.

He turned around for one last goodbye. "I love you both. Please, take care of yourself. And...take care of him."

Brad offered a warm smile. "We love you too. And I'll make sure to do everything I can to make this easier on him. I know he's going to struggle with you being gone. I'll do my best to help lessen the void until you come back."

"...Gracias. Para todo, Brad."

"No tienes que darme las gracias. Just- vuelve a casa pronto, Marsh."

Marshall took a step back. He looked over his house in its entirety, from the cute wooden mailbox to the porch columns to the bird nest nestled in a crevice beneath an upstairs window. He stared at the spot where his bedroom was, offering a silent, temporary farewell.

Wiping away his tears, Marshall turned away from his old life and ran into the forest.

Only when he was out of earshot did Brad lose his composure, falling to his knees and burying his face in his hands.

*

Marshall's grip on a large bouquet of flowers tightened as he made his way into a hidden plot of land. The area was surrounded by thriving oak trees whose leaves had already begun a stunning transition from green to more vibrant shades of yellow and orange. With autumn rolling around in a mere few days, it wasn't surprising to feel a cooler breeze than normal. A faint mist added an air of frigidity to an already desolate field.

Marshall walked past a small grouping of stones before stopping at the largest one. On it, with only the light of the moon to aid him, he could make out two names, numbers, small passages, and pictures. The left engraving read: Marcello Ferraro, age 98, beloved father, brother, son, and husband. The right engraving read: Michael Hale, age 97, beloved father, son, and husband. Further above, there was a picture of Marcello and Michael, roughly in their sixties, holding each other while standing in front of their first home together. Graying hair and slight wrinkling did little to draw away from a certain youthful, innocent happiness shining brightly in their eyes. Their smiles were breathtaking. Genuine, as well. 

They always looked so delighted whenever Marshall saw them.

He sat down on a patch of grass free from stray piles of leaves. His offering—a beautiful bundle of forget-me-not flowers— was placed in front of the stone. Cool fingers reached out to graze the rough surface further marred by nature's wrath.

It was nothing a quick scrub couldn't fix.

"...Hi, dad," Marshall said with a quiet voice. "It's been a really long time since I've been able to stop by. I'm sorry about that. It was never my intention to stay away for so long. It's just..."

He didn't really know how to put his struggles, both past and current, into words. He didn't want to come off as a child complaining to their parents, or like a stranger who gave the bare minimum when talking about themselves to someone they barely knew. He was also afraid of being judged, even though getting such treatment was impossible since he was only talking to Michael Hale's grave.

Still, Marshall came here to vent. And...maybe to seek some form of validation. He wasn't sure how; he just knew it was something he needed from someone he trusted with every fiber of his being.

"I...I'm losing control of myself, dad. I just- I don't know what to do." Marshall brought his knees toward his chest and rested his forehead against them. "My old coven has been broken apart. I've told you about them before- the family I ended up being a part of after Marcello passed. For a little while, things were...bearable. Then, they made it a habit to single me out and ostracize me for being myself. They'd call me names, play down my issues, never take my problems seriously. This all came to a really awful point after I started dating my now husband, Paul.

"Aww, dad, you'd love him. He's so good to me. I told him about you before, and he'd really like to come and meet you officially. To see the person who raised me into the man I've come to be. I really, really love him a lot. But...after everything that happened, I had to leave him.

"I killed my siblings. I killed Rosalie. They all constantly made me feel inferior. When it came down to it, they told me my existence was nothing but a curse. That I only bring misfortune to those who cross my path, and how I'm only good to keep around when I'm useful. They made my life seem meaningless. So I ended theirs.

"I know you're probably disappointed in me. You're probably disgusted with my actions. I'm sorry-"

Marshall stopped when an extremely light weight settled on top of his head. He felt what could only be described as gentle fingers combing through his hair to...to bring him comfort. The gesture could've easily been mistaken as wind ruffling his strands.

The feeling of two separated presences sitting beside him made his tense shoulders relax.

"...You're right. You always told me to do what I thought was right. To never put myself down, or let anyone else put me down- regardless of who they were. I had my reasons for doing what I did to those people. At the same time, though, killing them just unlocked a whole new set of bottled up emotions I didn't expect to feel.

"They told me I wasn't worthy of love, and now I'm starting to believe it. They told me my presence wasn't needed, and now I'm starting to believe it. They told me the world would be better off without me, and...

"It's hard. Really, really hard. My husband, our family, and my best friend are really amazing people. They make me feel so cherished and important and seen. It's just- it's difficult to always accept the things they tell me when I don't even believe them myself. It's hard to accept when they tell me, even with my flaws, that I'm a beautiful person. Because I feel so fucking ugly on the inside.

"My husband and I- we've gone through something really crazy. I won't go too much into the specifics, but he's my soulmate. Today, tomorrow, and forever. And not in an exaggerated way- I mean that legitimately. And now that we're connected like that, I can't- I feel like I have to get myself together before I can really allow myself to be happy. I feel like I have to get rid of the things holding me back so I can focus on having a bright future. I just don't know how to go about actually letting go. And it scares me because- because I don't want to spend the rest of eternity trying to find the answers I need. I don't want to be on the run forever. I want to be home. But I...

"Dad, I'm so lost."

A faint pressure settled on his back in a reassuring manner.

For a while, Marshall gave himself some time to simply exist. He allowed his emotions to filter out of him with no holds barred. The sadness and disappointment and anger and anxiety washed over him with all of their fury. They made his body tremble in unconcealed anguish, pulling a tiny whimper out of him.

Having those sensations in his hair and on his back, though...they helped to keep him from submerging too deep.

"Please..." Marshall's voice wavered as he pleaded to his father's grave. "Please, give me some sort of sign that I'll get through this. Please, give me an answer."

Rustling leaves in the nearby vicinity caught his attention.

Marshall's head shot up. He stood to his full height, ignoring the fact that he was alone in the family cemetery. Five strong, well-known scents nearly made him stagger in his spot.

Before he could attempt to address anything, the fragrances stopped in their paths. Each of them changed course, following each other in a specific direction.

In Marshall's direction.

'Thank you for listening to me, Dad.'

He waited in his spot until several people broke through the surrounding foliage. It was one man accompanied by four women. Two of the people had brown hair with the other three being natural blondes. All of them had bright golden eyes.

One of the women took a step forward, awed at her newfound discovery. "Marshall?"

He parted his lips in astonishment.

"Tanya?"