[Third person POV]
"You… actually struck me," Thanatos said, stunned. He held his cheek with a trembling hand, staring at Markus with wide, disbelieving eyes. The sting of the blow was still fresh, but the shock in his voice was louder than any pain.
"You're damn right I did," Markus snapped, landing firmly on the ground, his boots hitting the tile with finality. "And it felt fantastic."
He glared up at the ancient god—his father—and scoffed with disdain. "Don't act so surprised. Don't you dare act like you didn't deserve it."
Thanatos's expression slowly shifted. His hand lowered, and his gaze locked onto Markus with something deeper—more searching. "I see… So you resent me."
"You're damn right I do!" Markus roared, his voice sharp, trembling with long-suppressed rage. "You're a pathetic excuse for a god. My mom has been alone since the day I was born. Alone. Struggling to raise me, to survive, to keep us afloat—and where were you?! You didn't even have the decency to show your face. Not once. So yeah, why the hell wouldn't I resent you?!"
"Markus, I think you're misunderstanding—" Thanatos began, but Markus cut him off, his voice rising with every word.
"What the hell is there to misunderstand?! You abandoned me! You abandoned her! Do you even have the slightest idea what we went through? How hard things were for us? The whispered rumors? The pointed stares? Of course you don't! You weren't there!"
The words poured from him like a flood, unstoppable now that the dam had cracked. His hands were shaking at his sides, balled into fists. The grief, the anger, the humiliation—all of it came bursting out of him, unfiltered and raw.
"There were days when there was no food in the house. Nothing. Mom gave me her share so I could eat while she went to bed hungry. We had no power some nights, no heat in the winter—we had to huddle together under blankets just to stay warm. It was survival, every single day."
His voice cracked as tears welled in his eyes. He fought to speak, but his chest tightened as if the weight of his childhood was pressing down on him again.
"She tried so hard to find work, but it was never easy. Not when people judged us by the color of our skin before they ever looked at her résumé. We were turned away, mocked, humiliated. She had to scrape by with whatever odd jobs she could find, even when the pay was garbage. I stayed up every night she worked late, terrified something would happen to her on the way home."
Now the tears were flowing freely down his cheeks. He looked down at the ground, biting his lip to keep himself together—but he couldn't. His voice cracked again, softer this time, nearly breaking.
"It was… hard. So hard. But we endured it. Because we had each other. And that was enough."
He looked up at Thanatos again, his face wet with tears but filled with fire. "But not that you would ever know," Markus snarled. "Why would you care? You're a damn Primordial God. You had everything. Power. Influence. Luxury. You lived in divine comfort while we were scraping by in the dirt. We didn't matter to you. We were just a mistake you chose to forget."
Thanatos opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The words caught in his throat, a heaviness growing in his gaze—one of regret, perhaps, or shame—but no answer could undo what had been done.
Markus wiped his eyes, his expression firming as he regained control. His tone shifted—not quiet, but steady. Resolute.
"Well, it's fine now," he said. "Because I stopped caring about you a long time ago. I didn't come here hoping for some teary reunion. I didn't come looking for a father. I didn't come hoping you'd swoop in to make things right."
He stepped forward, standing tall.
"I came to look you in the eye and tell you the truth. We don't need you. We never did. My mom and I—we made it. We clawed our way out of that life through her strength alone. She got lucky with one of her jobs, caught the attention of someone important. They gave her a real chance, and she seized it. She earned promotions. Respect. A career."
Markus couldn't help but smile slightly, the pride in his voice unmistakable.
"She got us out. Out of that broken apartment. We live in a real home now. I've got my own room. There's food in the fridge. The lights are always on. It's warm in winter. She comes home before dinner. She actually rests. No more late-night worries."
He took a final step forward, locking eyes with the god who had given him life—but never anything else.
"She even sent me to an elite boarding school. I'm doing great. Straight A's. Top of my class. I made real friends. I learned magic. I grew stronger."
His next words were like daggers—meant to cut deep, meant to finish what he started.
"My mother and I built a good life. Without you. Every success we've had? Every step forward? Every single bit of it… was ours."
Markus took a long breath, his shoulders squaring as he delivered the final blow.
"After today, we have no relationship. You're not my father. And I'm not your son."
Silence followed Markus's bold declaration. He stood his ground, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his chin raised in defiance as he waited—dared—for Thanatos to respond.
The God of Death looked at him for a long moment, eyes unreadable.
"I see…" Thanatos finally said, his voice soft, not scolding or defensive. "I'm glad to hear that the two of you managed to do well for yourselves. Truly, I am. You've come far, Markus. I'm proud of you."
He smiled, and it wasn't smug or dismissive. It was genuine—tinted with sorrow, but full of sincerity. "I'm proud of both of you. You and your mother."
Markus's body stiffened. His brow furrowed slightly as his crossed arms slowly loosened. "What?" he asked, blinking, taken aback. That wasn't the response he expected—nor the one he was prepared for.
Thanatos looked down at him, his expression etched with centuries of sadness and something deeper—regret. "I won't ask for your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it," he said, each word carrying weight. "And although you might not believe me, I need to say this—I'm glad to see you, Markus. You've grown so much since I saw you last."
Markus's face twisted. His emotions were warring. Part of him wanted to scream again, to yell about everything they'd been through. But the look in Thanatos's eyes… it wasn't defensive or dismissive. It was the look of someone mourning something lost.
Instead of anger, Markus felt something else—curiosity.
"You said I misunderstood something," he said, voice calmer now. "What exactly did I misunderstand?"
Thanatos let out a long, deep sigh. "To understand why I wasn't there… why I wasn't allowed to be there… you need to know how your mother and I met. Has Faith ever told you?"
Markus's eyebrows raised. His curiosity piqued even more. "No," he said, shaking his head slowly. "She never talked about you. Not even your name. Every time I brought you up, she'd change the subject or pretend she didn't hear me."
He ruffled his dreads, a frustrated breath escaping him. "Once, when I pushed her too hard about it, she screamed at me. The only time she ever really yelled like that. Told me to drop it and never bring it up again."
He sighed. "After that, I stopped asking. But I never stopped wondering."
Thanatos nodded solemnly. "I understand."
He turned his gaze toward the horizon, his eyes distant and filled with memory. "Faith and I… we met during your grandmother's passing. Her mother's soul was ready, and I had come to collect it."
Markus listened intently. This was the origin story he never got. The missing chapter of his life finally being read aloud.
"She was strong," Thanatos said softly, a fond smile tugging at his lips. "She didn't cry. Didn't break. Not in front of anyone. She held herself together all for her father's sake. But I saw the grief—quiet, contained, and heavy. It sat behind her eyes like a storm waiting to unleash."
He paused, eyes misty with the memory. "I've always avoided being seen when collecting souls. It's an unspoken vow I made ages ago—to never interfere, never be remembered. But her eyes…" His voice drifted. "They pierced right through me. They held the power to make me break my word. And despite the sorrow… I fell in love with her. Instantly."
Markus squinted at him. "So let me get this straight… you fell in love with my mom's grieving eyes? That's... kind of a messed-up. Is that like, your kink or something?"
Thanatos gave him a deadpan look and scoffed, "Let me finish, you little menace."
Markus shrugged. "Just saying. Could've led with something less creepy."
Thanatos sighed, running a hand down his face. "After her mother's death… I may have made a poor attempt at… flirting."
Markus's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What exactly did you say?"
The god of death visibly cringed. "I told her… and I quote: 'I hope you have other relatives close to death so I can see you again.'"
Markus's mouth dropped open. "WHAT?!" he gasped, utterly appalled. "Are you serious?! That was your opener?! Who says that?! What's wrong with you?!"
Thanatos rubbed the bridge of his nose, groaning. "I know! It was the worst thing I could've said. But I panicked!"
Markus gawked. "You wished death on her family! As a pickup line!"
"That wasn't even the worst part…" Thanatos muttered, burying his face in his hands in utter embarrassment. "Her father died the very next day due to grieve and Heart-failure."
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