Work Text:
The first time Marc heard Steven sing, it was online, snooping on the other man’s social accounts.
He’s scrolling on their phone, waiting until it’s an acceptable time to leave their apartment for their next shift. He gets a notification as he’s reading some celebrity news, ‘Steven, you have a memory from 2 years ago.’ Curious, he clicks on the badge and Facebook opens up.
That’s when he sees a set of pictures. Logged into his alter’s Facebook account, the memory shows Steven, in a club, playing the guitar. He studies the photos, staring intently at the way the photographer caught Steven against the light, a halo almost forming around his head where the spotlight is blocked.
After some snooping, he finds a video on some guys page. The quality could be better, and he really wishes the guy behind the camera would hold the phone better, but Steven’s voice is clear as day. He plays the guitar like it was something the body had always done, harmonising with it like they had been rehearsing this moment for years.
When he scrolls some more, he sees photos of Steven looking happier than ever, photos of him in the morning light, photos of him in awe at a zoo, and then he sees a photo of him with arms wrapped around another man, a smile washed across his entire body as he kisses this other man on his cheek, captioned “Happy anniversary Marcus! Everyday with you, I seem to know myself more and more. Thank you for helping me make sense of my life. Your moonlight, Stevie <3”
He knows that this was probably a lost love, someone Steven wouldn’t want to return to, so he closes the page, the sweetness of his voice disappearing as Marc closes the app and gets his coat, ready for work.
——
It’s late at night, the summer air sticking to panicked lungs. His first thought: Layla isn’t here.
She’s not meant to be, still out working, but Marc is too panicked to remind himself. He’s sweating badly, breath heavy and fast as he tries to follow the steps; 5 things you can see? There’s Gus 3, swimming in his tank, Ancient Egypt books on their desk, Steven’s reading glasses, Jake’s flat cap and his gold chain. 4 things he can touch? The soft duvet cover, the wooden bedside table, the restraint around his…ankle? He never put that on, and Steven promised him he wouldn’t do that again. He’s kicking his leg and suddenly, despite feeling so heavy and tight, it’s not there.
Marc takes a deep breath and tries again, he can feel the duvet cover, the wooden bedside, his new wedding band, and a belt.
A belt.
A worn leather belt, much like the one she used…
Marc tries his best to move past it, but the belt wraps itself around his vision, all he can see is the angered face of his mother, all he can smell is the alcohol on her breath, all he can feel is the sharp sting left with each strike, all he can taste is the blood filling his mouth from biting his cheek, all he can hear is her screaming murder at him.
Everything is too much, every sense feels like it’s dialled up to 11, and he’s curled on the bed, hearing his mother scream. Every sense says he’s in danger, and he shrinks in on himself, as small as the body was when they were forced to grow up too quickly. He’s all alone, the ghost of his mother lingering in his ears, but someone is there, gently singing to him, doing all he can to pull Marc back into the living world, “Days seem sometimes as if they’ll never end. Sun digs it’s heels to taunt you. But after sunlit days, one thing stays the same, rises the moon.”
He knows that honey sweet voice anywhere, using what little attention he has to focus on Steven singing to him. “Days fade into a watercolour blur. Memories swim and haunt you. But look into the lake, shimmering like smoke. Rises the Moon.”
As Steven sings to him, Marc begins to surrender the body, tears falling as he finds the bodies arms caressing him gently, when he catches sight of the body in a nearby mirror, he notices that it’s not Steven, but Jake hugging him. He takes that as a sign to pass the body onto the older man, and he finds himself in their inner world’s bedroom. Steven is ready at his side, guiding the other man over to their bed where he sits against the headboard. Marc takes this as his queue to lie down, resting his head on Steven’s chest, arms wrapping around the British’s man’s waist. Steven’s hands find their way into Marc’s curls, all as he continues to sing to him, “Oh-oh, close your weary eyes. I promise you the autumn comes to darken fading summer skies. Breathe, breathe, breathe.”
Marc’s tears slow as he focuses on Steven’s voice, letting it wash over his heart and soul.
Steven begins to coax Marc higher, guiding him into his arms properly. His shirt feels damp from Marc’s crying, and although he questions how possible that is, his bigger concern is still in need of attention. He kisses the top of Marc’s head, breathing in the smell of sand dunes, sweet wine and security.
“Days pull you down just like a sinking ship. Floating is getting harder. But tread the water, child, and know that meanwhile. Rises the moon.”
Steven holds Marc tighter, hoping he’ll realise just how much he needs him there. Marc begins to settle, his breath steadying as he feels the beat of Steven’s heart. His eyes become heavy, slowly realising that he’s safe because he’s with Steven, no one can hurt him anymore.
“Days pull you up just like a daffodil. Uprooted from its garden. They’ll tell you what you owe, but know even so. Rises the moon.” Steven’s hands move to cup Marc’s face, tilting him back to his gaze when caramel eyes attempt to turn away, feeling unworthy of having such a patient man gaze upon him. He wipes away the last few tears from Marc’s cheeks, softly singing the last few lines of the song,
“You’ll be visited by sleep. I promise you that soon the autumn comes to steal away each dream you keep. Breathe, breathe, breathe.”
As Steven holds the last note, he guides Marc to his lips, and when they connect, Marc feels at home, with the man he loves keeping him safe, as he always has done.