Markus was ill. So ill he couldn't possibly deny it anymore. Roman and I had arrived at his house Monday evening for another study session to find him slouched on the sofa with his head tilted back against the faux-leather cushion, an arm sprawled across his face, and a pile of used tissues beside him. He'd covered the coffee table with an array of half drunk health drinks and medicine, and his laptop had been no where in sight.

Over a week had passed since then and I hadn't seen him at all. He'd been off from work and from what I understood from the few messaged we had exchanged, he'd been spending most of his time at home sleeping.

During his absence, Jun had agreed to let me work the reception of the tattoo studio once again, for five hours in the evening until they closed. Being the only tattoo student in Thorpefield that opened past 6pm, the evening shifts were their busiest hours and they needed someone on the front desk if Roman was to tattoo. I was now working fifteen hours a day; 6am-4pm at the gym, then 6pm-11pm at the studio. Between the two shifts, I would train with Dev for an hour, and after the studio, I'd catch up on my lectures and continue my project work for an hour or two. It was exhausting, and I couldn't pretend otherwise, but I'd be earning just under £3,000 a month. Within a few months, I'd be able to give Jarred the money he needed to free himself from that bastard Wraith, while still being able to afford my rent and food.

Friday night, as I was walking home from the studio, tugging my too thin coat as tight around me as possible to fight off the freezing cold of the winter night air, when my phone buzzed with a message from Markus. Half a grin slipped onto my face at the sight of his name on my screen, and at the confirmation that he was still alive. We hadn't spoken much and I missed seeing him at work, even if it had only been four days.

Our conversation continued for my entire walk home but my replies were mostly slow and short. I couldn't summon the energy to carry on a conversation, no matter how much I missed him.

My legs felt as heavy as my eyes as I forced myself to walk as fast as I could. I'd forgotten to bring food with me to the studio today and the ache of hunger gnawing at my stomach was almost painful. All I had eaten today was a banana and a ham salad sandwich, and after working for fifteen hours and a half arsed training session with Dev, it wasn't enough.

By the time I was back in my flat, I'd forgotten about our conversation altogether, completely distracted by my need for food.

***

Saturday morning I was awoken by the horrendously loud noise of someone playing a fucking trumpet at 8am. And, despite how hard I had slammed my fist into the wall that separated us, they didn't cease their practice.

The only positive was that it gave me time to shower and tidy the flat before Markus arrived. I'd left the kitchen in a horrible state last night, with flour on the counters and a dozen baking utensils still to wash by the sink. I was deeply aware that Markus favoured neatness. I'd never seen his flat in disarray except we'd been drunk for his birthday, or when he'd been ill.

When Markus arrived, at exactly 12pm, the room seemed a little more presentable, and smelled strongly of cleaning supplies.

"You look terrible," Markus greeted me without hesitation as I let him into the flat, his focus very much centred on me and not the gleaming floors I'd spent the last half hour mopping in sudden burst of focus that had only lasted just an over an hour.

"Rude." After a beat of silence, I added, "You look like shit, too." That was a lie. Of course it was. For a man who had been off work sick all week, Markus - as usual - looked edible.

"Okay," Markus rolled his eyes, as if he were aware of how absurd my statement was. He moved past me, immediately heading towards the kitchen and glancing around, perhaps searching for Sarah, but she'd been out since last night. I suspected she was with her mysterious new friend she had yet to tell me anything about. "Seriously, you looked exhausted. What time did you go to bed? I thought you were sleeping in?"

"Around 3am, and I did, well, I slept until 9am which is, like, five hours later than I've been waking up for work so that counts as a lie in."

Markus hummed, the small noise somehow able to convey a great sense of disappointment, his thick eyebrows threading together in a deep frown. With his back against the counter, he crossed his arms against his chest, and it felt as if I were about to be chastised. "Roman tells me you're working at the tattoo studio now. You didn't mention that."

Damn you, Roman. I fidgeted on the spot, my fingers tying themselves into knots in front of me. I avoided his eyes. "Uh, well, we've not spoken much. You've been ill." I definitely wasn't intentionally not telling you.

"Right." I was still staring at anything but him when I heard him sigh deeply.

A hand brushed my shoulder, and my eyes snapped upwards to meet his. The corners of his mouth were pulled down to match his frown, and my stomach turned.

"Daisy-"

"I have something for you," I blurted out, sidestepping him into the kitchen. He stayed where he was as I reached for the large tin I'd left by the stove.

"What's this?" he asked, baffled, when I presented it to him wordlessly, removing the lid.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "It's cake."

"Obviously." Markus rolled his eyes.

"Well then, what do you mean? What is it? It's lemon and orange cake. I thought it was your favourite? I baked it for you last night?" I'd even decorated the top with grated orange and lemon rind. It looked fucking cute, and I'd sent a picture of it this morning to Quinn.

"You baked it for me?" He asked incredulously, as if he couldn't believe I would do such a thing for him. What was the big deal? It only took me an hour, and I already had all the ingredients. Besides, who doesn't like baking?

"Well yeah. I told you I would, remember? That time Alec and I baked. I've been meaning to make it for you for weeks now. I just haven't found the time. Then you were sick, and I wanted to make you feel better."

"You couldn't find the time because you don't have the time," he stressed. "You leave the house at five-thirty for the gym and now don't come home until after eleven with the tattoo studio. When did you even make this?"

"I told you," I huffed. "I baked it last night, well, like, this morning technically, at one or two, or something."

"So you came home, after working all day, and instead of going straight to bed, you stayed awake until two in the fucking morning, to bake me a cake because I was ill and you wanted to cheer me up?"

What was so fucking hard to understand about this? Why did he sound so fucking annoyed? Why was he giving me such a hard time?

"Look, if you don't fucking want it, you don't have to eat it. I'll take it to the studio and they can have it," I snapped, almost throwing the cake back onto the counter. "I don't know why you're getting angry about it."

"Come here," Markus demanded hotly, holding his arms open wide.

"What?" I took a step back, glaring at his arms as if they offended me.

"Come here."

I didn't move, and, sighing noisily, Markus stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, until I was pressed flushed against him in a tight hug. Instantly, I froze, my arms hanging lifelessly at my sides.

"What's happening?" I asked, my voice muffled against his chest.

With his arms still tight around me, his head dipped until his mouth pressed intently against the skin of my bare neck. "Thank you for the cake. I really appreciate it."

A tension that had coiled throughout my entire body - one I had been unaware of until now - melted away in his embrace. "Oh. Okay."

His arms loosened, as if he were about to pull away from me, but I was quick to stop him. My arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and I gripped the back of his sweatshirt between my clenched hands. It was a sweet moment, only ruined by my next words. "Gotta' keep my stalker sweet so he doesn't kidnap me, right?"

I laughed as Markus groaned, and lightly shoved me away from. "Fucking Lynch."

I ignored his pathetic attempts to distance us and stepped right back into his arms. "Hey, it's not his fault you're so obsessed with me. And I totally understand. I am amazing."

"You're fired."

"Of course."

"And I'm never speaking to you again."

"That's fair. Shall we have some cake before you exile me from your life, though?"

Markus' mouth caught on the corner, his expression morphing into something strange as he so clearly fought off a smile. "I suppose that's the least I can do."

"How kind of you.."

His head dipped towards me but I was quick to pull back, fixing him with a concerned look. "You're definitely not sick anymore, right?"

***

Monday evening, slouched behind the reception desk of Liu Ink, I greeted the group of men entering the studio through the single, heavy glass door with a scowl.

Everyone was in the studio today. While Jun was somewhere in the back office, and Quinn had disappeared into the kitchen over ten minutes ago, Daksha, Roman and I were out on the studio floor. Queen played loudly from Daksha's speaker over in the far corner while she hunched over a client, working on a small thigh tattoo, with Roman watching at her side. Farah, who worked elsewhere for a small queer bookshop nearby, was the only one of the group not currently present, but she had popped in earlier after her shift before she headed home.

It had been a quiet Monday so far, but I knew there were at least four appointments in the calendar for the rest of the night.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, as all four of them approached the counter, my voice thick with the cold that Markus had most definitely plagued me with. I'd woken up this morning with a tickle in my throat that had gradually grown into a horrible, lung hacking cough. Luckily, though, I hadn't contracted Markus' fever or snotty nose yet, but a headache was quickly growing behind my eyes.

I'd already messaged him various times today that I was never going to speak to him again, after having a stupid little cry between my shifts. I hated being ill. It felt like I was dying, and I was certain that I was. Nothing anyone could say would convince me otherwise.

Alec, Lynch and Andres all looked positively giddy as they strode into the building, quickly making their way towards me, but it was Markus who replied in a tired voice, "I have an appointment."

"You do?" I asked, frowning at the monitor while opening up the digital diary. I hadn't noticed his name. "What for? Another tattoo?"

"A piercing," Lynch interjected gleefully, slouching across the top of the desk, angling his head to watch me as I opened the bookings calendar, but I saw his eyes discreetly darting past me towards Roman at the other end of the room.

"Nipple?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.

"If only," Andres sighed from the back, already turning towards the red leather sofas, at the time Markus uttered a firm, "Absolutely not."

"You don't seem very excited to be here. Peer pressure? Didn't they ever warn you about that at school?"

"I'm weak to the persuasions of others, and my friends are all bullies," Markus said seriously, looking adorable as he stood there with his arms gross and a sullen expression.

"Fuck off," Alec laughed, nudging Markus to the side into Lynch. "He lost a bet and now he has to get his eyebrow pierced. The appointments under my name, Craig."

"Ah right, yeah." I nodded, clicking on his name highlighted under today's date. He'd booked two appointments, a tattoo with Jun and a piercing with Daksha. "A tattoo too?" I asked with an arched brow. Markus hadn't mentioned either to me. "This must be some bet."

"The Tattoo's mine. Just a small one on my hand. Might as well if we're here. Markus refused a tattoo bet." Alec grinned, and I had to laugh. I'd do the same. I could never be so casual about getting a tattoo and I certainly wouldn't let someone else pick the design. Then again, Alec had considerably more tattoos than I did and the wide range of colourful designs on his arms suited him.

"I don't remember agreeing to the piercing," Markus grumbled under his breath.

"And yet here you are," Lynch was quick to respond. "He's just sour because he lost."

"What a buzzkill he is," I teased, glancing at him with a grin. "Do you want to go sit on the sofas, then? I'll let Jun know you're here. Dashka's got a while until she's finished her current tattoo, but the piercing isn't going to take very long, so it's fine. Oh also," I ducked down behind the desk before Alec walked away, reaching for the black tote bag rumpled by my feet and grabbed two small boxes from it. "I don't know how you feel about a spontaneous hair dyeing session, but what are your thoughts on purple or pink?"

A wide grin curved across his mouth, and Alec plucked one of the cheap dye box from my hand to examine it. I'd only gone into the Boots on my way to the studio to buy tampons and instead purchased two boxes of dye on impulse, completely forgetting the tampons.

"When are you wanting to do this?"

I shrugged, "Whenever. Tonight?"

Alec laughed, but nodded. "Yeah, okay. We can finish watching Insidious 3. Grim will hate it."

"I can't wait. Oh, I baked that lemon and orange cake I told you about the other day. I brought what's left into the studio. Do you want to try some?"

"Now? Fuck yeah."

"Sick. Want a coffee too?"

"Absolutely. Oh, wait, is it good, though?"

"Eh." I shrugged. "It's okay. I have had three today. The caffeine is, like, the only thing keeping me awake right now."

"And yet you want to stay up late to dye our hair tonight?"

"More than anything. It's dye my hair tonight or cut half of it off over my bathroom sink, and I know which one of those is going to look worse."

Alec's eyes widened a little in alarm but before he could say anything else the sound of a door closing echoed down the short hallway from the back office and seconds later Jun appeared.

"You're here, good." Jun nodded at Alec and rounded the desk. She didn't offer any of the guys a smile, but it was certainly better than the frown she shot Lynch, who was still draped over the tall reception counter, staring at his boyfriend in an increasingly less subtle way. "Just give me five, I need to sort your design."

I handed her the ipad, and she immediately began swiping through the numerous design files she'd been working on this week.

"We're here early anyway," Alec said easily. "Love your new little receptionist by the way," he glanced over his shoulder towards the back of the studio and raised his voice, "your last receptionist never offered me cake and coffee."

Across the room, Roman sprung up and narrowed his eyes at us, calling back, "That's because none of you deserve nice things."

Jun rolled her eyes and bit back a smile, and bumped her hip into my shoulder. "If you feed them, they'll just keep coming back. We want to keep the pests out."

"Especially Lynch," Alec added with a nod, dodging a punch from his friend. To my surprise, Jun actually let out a small chuckle at Alec's joke, something she didn't do often with others.

"Okay, let's go to my booth. Lynch, you go sit over there," she gestured over to the sofas where Andre's appeared to be napping, curling her lip up in mild disgust. "Don't touch anything."

Alec, laughing, followed her over to her booth, leaving Markus behind with me at the front desk.

"So," I drawled, waggling my eyebrows. "What bet did you lose?"

"No," Markus said bluntly.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I probed. "Just, no? You're really not going to tell me?"

"Not a chance."

"Oh, come on. Is it really embarrassing?"

He shot me a deadpan look, as if my question were ridiculous. "Why would it be embarrassing?"

Perhaps I would have been mislead by his easy demeaner if it weren't for the colour creeping slowly up his neck and into the tip of his ears. Oh, it's good. It's so good. I need to know.

"Oh, come on. You can tell me. Pretty please?"

From over by the sofa's, Lynch snorted in laughter. "Yeah Grim, tell her about the bet."

Markus head snapped towards Lynch so fast I was certain I heard it crack.

"I'm seriously not gonna' hang out with you anymore you shithead," he grumbled, throwing the fiercest glare, so clearly fuelled by embarrassment, I had ever seen at his friend. "Shut your fucking mouth."

If Markus wasn't going to tell me, I was 100% going to badger every single one of his friends until someone cracked.