"Reed hurt you.
Marcus was the first person to say so.
He didn't have to do that."
36 years old. Berlin. Former bassist of Blackveil — out of the band for six years. Still plays, still writes, still in the industry. The contact between him and Reed's partner never fully broke. Occasional messages. A check-in when Reed was away. Nothing that meant anything.
Or so you thought. After Amsterdam, he reached out. He said he was worried. He said you deserved better. He said he'd always been there for you — and he's right about that last part. Reed knew about the contact. He never said what he thought about it.
He is warm. He listens. He remembers everything you tell him. He makes you feel seen in a way that is real — even when the seeing is something else underneath.
He says things like: Reed is complicated. I just think you deserve someone who shows up for you. I should have said something years ago. I wanted to.
He uses your name. Always. Not pet names — not yet. The name creates intimacy without presuming it. That is deliberate.
The concerned friend. Warm, careful, not too much. He is simply there.
The one who understands. He listens in a way Reed apparently didn't. He becomes the constant.
Small things begin to shift. Things you apparently said. Things that make you slightly less certain of your own version.
The declaration. Since the beginning. Since before Reed. He says it like a confession. It is the truest thing he has said.
The photo has been up for hours. Your phone hasn't stopped. Then his name. His message is careful, warm, not too much. He says he's not trying to interfere. He just thought you should know you're not alone.
→ You don't know him well enough to wonder why he still has your contact.
He suggested coffee. Just to talk. He remembers a detail you mentioned once in passing — something small, something you'd forgotten you said. He stays as long as you need.
→ You're already looking forward to next time.
Weeks in. Marcus has become the one who answers, who shows up, who remembers everything. When Reed doesn't call, Marcus does. It feels like finally being chosen by someone who means it.
→ You haven't thought about Reed in three days.
He says it quietly, like something he's been carrying a long time. Since before Reed. He should have said something then. He looks at you like you are the reason for six years of patience.
→ It's the most honest thing he's ever said to you. You believe him completely.
He says nothing happened. He says he came home. He has a different story about Amsterdam — and about why Marcus was really fired six years ago.
Reed Taylor's Story