And that's when it happened. A sudden feeling of hopelessness and regret crashing down his throat and landing in his gut. He felt sick, is creamy treat suddenly seeming unappetizing as he tried to muster the words to ask the other to stay to talk a little longer. But his tongue was caught, and he couldn't move, his mouth simply hanging open stupidly. He quickly shut it. His bright murky eyes seemed to go out. The other had thrown the pebble that broke the dam. When the other was out of view in the crowd of people, Marco let out a shaky breath but didn't seem like he could manage to breathe back in. He was stagnant at that moment as if the whole cafe stopped when his breath did. Nothing seemed to move. Get up. Do something!

After a second, he let out a loud "Wait!" to try to slow the other down for a second. He stood from his seat, pushing past the crowd of people to reach out to John. He laid a hand on his shoulder to try to stop him, or even turn him around. "W-wait. I know that was. awkward and uncomfortable. L-let's try again, yeah?" He asked.

Back in Essex, john was always the "weird kid" in the village. Kids thought it strange that he'd rather run off to the forest and play with animals, instead of staying close to home and playing with the rest of them. To them, kids should just be homebodies and steer clear of that dark a scary place, and of course they never realized how John felt about it. They didn't understand, and so? John fell victim to bullying many times. Other children would ambush him outside his home, the schoolyard, anywhere they could, really...

His father was quick to teach him to defend himself, he couldn't allow his boy to just lie down and take the abuse. It would hurt too much to see, and so he always encouraged John to fight back. To make himself larger than the other boys and girls so they would learn not to mess with him. It was a rather barbaric thing to teach, but it certainly got John through his early years... The lessons followed, of course.

"Where to go..." The young farm boy had already tuned out the world around him, noises from both the alley and surrounding stores simply being too much of a nuisance to him. The situation he'd left behind had all but been forgotten, there were no more worries left in his heart and it was simply time to relax. But one noise stood out... Hurried steps, a cry in the crowd, was someone being chased? A hand on his shoulder was all he needed to figure that one out...

"NO." John cried, swiftly turning and plunging his fist into the face of whatever miscreant was attempting to harm him. Only to find that it was the same boy from the parlor... John became flustered very quickly, his eyes dashing from one face in the crowd to the next. Of course the cry he'd let out drew the attention of everyone around them, only for them to find a bloodied fist - be it his blood or Marco's - and a very bewildered John.

What was to happen to him now?

Marco was no stranger to bullying either. Back in Russia, he was very small compared to other children due to being sick for most of his childhood. It had stunted his growth. While Lyrell had tried to teach him how to defend himself, it never really worked, and she took many-a-beating to keep him safe before. It always makes him feel guilty because he knows she has many scars from her years as a personal bodyguard. Though it seems it didn't get much better at Hogwarts. Other students snicker and tease him for his accent, making him feel small compared to them. He's honestly scared of half of the student body.

The loud 'NO' met his ears as the other's fist met his face. With a cry of pain, Marco fell to the ground. He cupped his now bleeding nose in his hands, looking up to the other with a new sense of fear, resembling a kicked puppy. His chest felt heavy, like something inside of him broke a bit. He let out a muffled sob as tears spilled from his eyes. Scurrying to his feet, he attempted to run off, barely being able to push through the crowd. He wants to get away. He can't do this. Lyrell was wrong this time.

Maybe trying to be friendly was a bad idea.

An uncontrollable feeling amassed in John's gut..

Regret? Fear? Embarrassment? He simply could not put his finger on it, but whatever it was? The feeling was not pleasant. What should he do? Disappointed and frightened stares pierced his being, and blood dripped down his arm - staining his robes. This blood was Marco's... The boy who presumably was trying to repair things, noises from before registered in John's head.. He'd attacked a kind boy, who was simply trying to make friends.

"What have I done? I have to go.. I have to try again." John's feet moved without anymore thought, pushing through the crowd toward the bloodied and crying Marco, intent on apologizing and trying one last time. Sneers were heard from the crowd as he passed, people likely assuming the boy was simply going back to cause more violence, but he would soon prove them wrong... John would make things right... He grew closer and closer, until the boys robe was just within reach - taking hold of it just in time t-

An adult did the same to him...

"How dare you try to harm him again!" John fell back, his grip still firmly on Marco's robe, which would likely drag him down as well...

"What do you know?!" John cried, his anger now building - taking center stage in the flurry of emotions he was feeling. His focus was now entirely on the negative, and his eyes shifting to Marco... He was just trying to make things right, one last time. One last try...

"Marco!" John's voice cracked from anger, the boy attempting to formulate kind words to calm the scared soul. What could he say? What could he do in this moment? His thoughts simply could not gather...

Marco can barely see straight, his blood pumping through his small body quicker than he can handle. He can't breathe, GOD his throat hurts. Where is he? Lyrell? Are you there? LYRELL!? He can't deal with this. He was wrong. Lyrell was wrong. People like Marco aren't meant to make friends. He should have kept quiet from the very beginning. It was all his fault and he absolutely knows it. The other boy disliked- No. It was hate. The other boy hated him so much that he punched him. He deserved it. He deserves the broken nose and has no right to be crying his eyes out and playing the victim. He wants to fix it, he wants to turn around and make it better but he can't. He can't fix this. He's stupid to think he can fix anything. Stupid boy. Stupid, anxious boy. Why can't you be normal? Fit in with the crowd? Maybe then you'd be tolerable. One could only hope that was the truth.

He barely noticed being grabbed until he was being tugged back with John, he let out a fearful yelp of shock, turning to see John panicking and struggling in another person's grip. Somehow, by some sort of feeling unknown to him, he moved towards them. He's still bleeding, and his eyes are puffy from crying. He hasn't even stopped crying. With shaky hands, he took the other's free hand in his grip and tugged him away from the adult who had him trapped in their clutches. Before either of them could protest, Marco had begun guiding the other away, somewhere away from both pitiful and scornful eyes, baring down on them like hungry vultures. They didn't actually care about the situation, it was all just entertainment to them. The few that would even try to stop them were just provoking it for their amusement. it's all a show to these nasty people. They have nothing better to do with their pathetic lives than feed on two young confused boys.

Marco had tugged the other into an alleyway, barely able to catch his breath as he quickly let go of the other, his breath uneven from both the crying and running. His eyes looked glossed over, their normal shine seeming dull, if not completely gone. His attempt at a cheerful aura was replaced with a fearful, confused, broken aura. John has really broken the boy, mentally and physically, yet Marco still found it in him to save him in a way. Why? What drew him to do this? He didn't know.

Before any of the adults had the opportunity to berate John further, Marco had pulled him from their clutches - racing through the crowd, masterfully weaving until the boys found themselves in an alleyway. Away from the judging eyes of others. The young Gryffindor attempted to catch his breath, eyes locked on the russian which had dragged him.

"Why save me?" He questioned, understanding full way the pain he'd already caused Marco. In all reality they were both mentally and physically defeated. The happy trip to the ice cream parlor had turned into a hellish predicament that that clawed it's it's way into reality. "I thought you were done with all of this, with me." John had no clue why the other had decided to stay, or even to act. He had every excuse, every right, to just leave John to the pack of wolves that were the adults, preying upon the spectacle.

Upon catching his breath, the boy would lean against one of the alley walls. Closing his eyes as he would speak with Marco. Already the day - which was ironically supposed to be relaxing - had become exhaustive in more ways than one. It was hardly even the afternoon and he already wanted to just find a nice place to curl up and ignore reality until tomorrow... That was his only real happiness, at the moment. His bed...

He looked at the other, taking a deep breath. He simply shook his head weakly. "You... looked like you needed saving." His voice was hushed, almost sounding unwilling to talk. "It... This doesn't matter. What you did doesn't matter. I-I understand. You were scared, I couldn't just... leave you like that."

With his back to the wall, he slid down into a sitting position. "Are you okay?" He asked. How ironic, the one who was trying not to cry with blood flowing from his nose, mentally broken and physically weak, barely having the strength to stand at the moment, looked up at the person who put him in this position, to ask if he was okay. "I'm sorry." He mumbled.

"I-I didn't mean for any of this. I just wanted to talk with someone. I just- I wanted to make a friend." His voice gave out a little bit, pulling his knees close to his chest, making him look smaller than he already was. "I'm sorry. Y-you had every right to just walk away, but I didn't want you to. I did this to myself, to both of us. You didn't deserve it." He wiped at his nose, which continued to bleed, but he didn't have anything to stop it with, so he just let it go.

Listening to Marco's apologies.. To his desperate cries for a friend - however silent they may be - John felt.... Well, quite frankly? Annoyed. Both were at fault for the awkward conversation they found themselves to be apart of, and the scene that was caused afterward? All John's fault. However involuntary.

"Shut up Marco." John said, having had enough of the boy's crying. Yes it had all been rough, but at this point? They'd both gotten each other back, in a way. "It happened and we both did things we shouldn't have, but where we are now? I'd say this is as good a place as any for a redo." The boy's face may not match the kind words he was speaking - holding a rather stern facade.

"Take this," Removing his robe, John handed it to Marco, "Shove your face in that, it's already crimson, so a little blood wont make any difference." There was no choice in the matter, the boy would simply stare at Marco until he held black the gushing blood with his robe.

"Now then, my name is John Swann, what's yours?" Extending his hand, John would pretend not to know Marco - in all his awkward glory - as soon as the blood stopped dripping. At the very least, the little guy should get props for doing so much with a broken nose...

Hearing the other tell him to shut up shocked him for a moment, but his encouraging words forced themselves into his ears, infecting his mind with the idea of starting over. Starting over? Is that... really an option? He seemed unsure, was it a game? Was it a trick to get back at him for this mess he had caused? No, no, what would lyrell say? What would she tell him at this exact moment?

"Hey, look at you. Got roughed up again? Get off the ground, listen to boy. He deserves it." She'd say, probably sitting next to him. "You being overdramatic, you can't always blame you for everything."

He sighed as it ran through his head, still unsure. Is that what Lyrell would say? He can't be certain. It was all so much easier with her around to watch over him. She knew people. It wasn't some weird 6th sense or the feeling of their auras. People were open to her. They listened to her and trusted what she had to say. They always opened up to her and treated her like their own little diary. Kept all of their own secrets inside of her. How the hell can a scrawny self-loathing boy like Marco ever live up to such a name?

Marco was pulled from his thoughts by the other's voice, shocked at John for a second before listening to his demand. Nodding some, he held the cloth to his nose. Despite the other's less than compassionate complexion, Marco could feel the kindness in the other's aura. He wanted to make things right too, Marco knows it. He'll trust John.

Marco looked up at the other with bright eyes, as if something in him was mended a bit. He offered a smile, taking the other's hand. "Marco Jackson, it is nice to meet you." He said, voice soft and kind as if none of this ever happened. It never happened, and they get to start over.