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Layla woke up to the sound of mumbling.
That wasn’t particularly out of the blue, especially recently. Ever since she moved in with Steven and Marc, to be more specific. Steven often mumbled in his sleep (and yes, it was completely and utterly adorable. She heard him mumble, “Fancy a cuppa?” once and had treasured that memory ever since.)
It was normal. Layla was comfortably buried in their blankets, the warmth enveloping her as she lay facing the nearby wall. She hadn’t even opened her eyes, and was considering burrowing deeper and letting herself drift off again until she noticed that the mumbling was not happening right beside her. It was somewhat distant.
Rolling less-than-gracefully over onto her other side, her messy curls falling in her face, she opened her eyes in a squint and stretched her arm forward. The mattress was cold, and it wasn’t because she had stolen the blankets, like she had a few times before. No, Steven and Marc weren’t in bed at all. She was alone.
Suddenly, Layla felt a little more awake. Placing her palms down on the mattress, she pushed herself up to sit, flipping her hair back out of her face. It was still dark in the flat except for a few slivers of moonlight that peeked through the curtains, dancing along the hardwood floor like ribbons. As she blinked a few times to adjust to being awake, a shiver traveling down her spine as she peeled the blankets back from her bare legs, she listened to the mumbling. And in the corner of the bedroom was the man she was looking for.
He sat with his back against the wall, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms holding them tightly. One of the slivers of moonlight caressed his cheek, moving up and down as he moved his head. He was still mumbling, but she couldn’t make out the words, and Layla had a feeling it wasn’t just any mumbling. Marc and Steven were talking to each other, she was sure of it. And something had to be wrong.
Quietly, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, the cold floor beneath her feet making her shiver once more. She approached carefully. “…Steven?”
Startled, his gaze darted upward, breath catching in his throat. “Layla,” he breathed, gripping the fabric of the pants around his knees. His face gleamed with sweat, and some curls were matted down to his forehead. His bare chest heaved with each breath, and his brows knit together. She couldn’t place what expression was on his face.
“What happened?” she asked, immediately kneeling down in front of him. She was expecting the worst, but she didn’t know what exactly that would be. There was so much “worst” when it came to them, wasn’t there?
“It’s Marc,” he answered, and she was finally able to pick out the emotion on his face - worry. “He had a terrible dream and he won’t calm down. I took the body to give him a break.” Biting at his bottom lip, his voice suddenly became a lot more gentle. “Marc? You can’t hide back there forever. It would do you some good to come forward and let it out.”
Layla pressed her lips together, waiting for the annoyed response from Marc, but none came. “Steven? What’s he saying?” She’d known Marc had dreams for a long time, but when they’d first gotten married, he’d managed to deal with them on his own. Sometimes she would hold him until she fell asleep again, but he would always be gone in the morning.
This was before she knew about Steven. He could probably help Marc.
“He’s telling us we should just go back to bed,” he replied finally, his voice quiet.
“Sounds like Marc.” She sighed, reaching forward to cup Steven’s cheek. Her thumb trailed along his cheekbone. He leaned into the touch. “I’m sure he appreciates your help, Steven. I’m going to try and coax him out, okay?”
Steven nodded understandingly. “Between you and me, he needs a good cry,” he whispered, despite the fact that Marc was most likely listening. “Alright, Marc, you stubborn bugger, listen to our wife now.”
“Marc, baby,” she murmured, pouring as much honey into her voice as she could, still cupping his cheek. “Come on out. Let’s give Steven a break, yeah?”
She knew them both well, and she knew that ever since they had died, they’d come back much stronger. They fought less. They coexisted. They clearly cared about each other. It was a really nice change of pace. There was no way to know what happened to them both after they’d been shot, but she decided it was better to keep that between them anyway.
All that being said, she knew Marc had this need to protect Steven whenever possible. So maybe she was playing a bit dirty, pulling the ‘Steven needs a break’ card, but she knew there was a high chance of it working. For a moment, there was nothing.
Layla was getting better at deciphering who was fronting at the moment, even without hearing their voices, and she was somewhat proud of herself that she recognized the slight expression change. The eyes always changed when they switched - Steven’s were always wide and sparkly. Marc’s were often dull and sad.
“I’m sorry,” Marc whispered, fidgeting with the fabric of the pants around his knees, and Layla wasn’t sure if he was saying that to her or to Steven. She decided to answer for both of them.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said, sitting down and pulling her legs underneath her. She let go of his face to instead grab his hand. “A bad dream, huh? Just like when we lived in Cairo.”
Marc flinched at the mention of a bad dream, squeezing her hand a bit tightly. “Yeah. Like that.”
It wasn’t often she saw Marc like this. He was vulnerable. Steven was always an open book, but Marc was closed off. She used to think some days she barely even knew her own husband. And she supposed she didn’t, at least back then. Now she knew a lot more, but she still didn’t know all of it. She didn’t know what kept him up at night. She didn’t know anything about his past.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured randomly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Layla had a feeling that apology definitely wasn’t for her. Maybe it wasn’t for Steven, either.
She leaned forward, moving a stray curl from his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” Almost immediately, he shook his head. That was the response she was expecting; what she wasn’t expecting was his eyes to be shining. “Oh, baby,” she murmured as he averted his gaze, and she gently placed her hand on his chin, moving his head so he’d look at her. “Let it out now. You have nothing to hide from me, okay?”
Marc fought it for a while. For a moment it seemed like he might win, but eventually the dam broke. He squeezed his eyes shut and placed his face in his hand, a sob escaping him as his shoulders began to shake. Despite her surprise, Layla wasted no time reaching forward, taking his hand to remove it from his face and instead intertwine their fingers. With her other hand she took the back of his head, gently guiding it to her shoulder. She held him close, as if the tighter she held on, the better she would be able to put him together.
She didn’t know how long they sat there, but she didn’t dare move until she felt the shaking in his shoulders slowly come to a stop. He sat up slowly, his face considerably redder than before and stained with tear tracks, but no more fresh tears came as he looked at Layla warily. She gave him a sad smile. He attempted to return it.
Before he could apologize again, she reached up to swipe a tear from his cheek with her thumb. “How about we get back to bed, huh?”
“Yeah, okay.” Holding each other’s hands, they pulled themselves up onto their feet. Marc rubbed his eyes as they walked together, murmuring a quiet, “Thanks, Steven,” under his breath. Layla pretended she didn’t hear.
They climbed into bed together and Marc curled up close to Layla, who began playing with his hair. She wondered what made him so upset, but it seemed he wasn’t ready to talk to her about that yet. That was fine. She’d be here when he was ready.
“Layla,” he mumbled sleepily. She looked down at him, watching the rise and fall of his chest and the fluttering of his lashes against his cheeks.
“What is it, baby? Get some sleep,” she replied softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“Mm…” he nuzzled closer, making her heart somersault in her chest. “Hey. I love you. A lot. Okay?”
Before she could stop it, a huge smile spread across her face and she felt like a teenager again. It wasn’t often Marc actually said ‘love.’ She wanted to savor this forever. “I love you too,” she whispered, running her fingers through his curls. She loved him so much it hurt. She loved Steven so much it hurt. For now, things couldn’t be more perfect.
She felt him drift, his breathing evening out and tension leaving his shoulders. She watched him for a while, with just the slivers of moonlight to light her way, and hoped things would only get better from here. For now, they were safe. For now, they were happy.
So Layla smiled, closed her eyes, and let herself join him.