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Layla was excited.
Today was her birthday, and she was going to be exactly twenty-years-old when the clock hit eight twelve in the evening. That meant she’d be able to talk with her soulmate, provided he or she was at least twenty as well.
She knew she had a soulmate. Whenever she drew on the underside of her arms, the ink would never disappear, unless she wished it to. She didn’t even need different colours of pens to draw in different colours. That was the sign of a soul mark.
She drew on it every day since she was a child, even though she knew the marks wouldn’t be fully connected until they were fully mature. Whoever had the matching mark couldn’t see any of it, and she couldn’t either if anything was written on their arm.
Still she loved to draw on her arm, and that’s what she was doing right now, waiting until the time would come that her drawings would be seen. Her birthday party had just ended and she still had at least thirty minutes to go. A lot more if her soulmate was younger than her.
She felt silly drawing birds and butterflies on her skin. Most people with marks lost interest on them when they were fifteen, but she had always been more drawn to hers. She always felt like there were things that needed to be said.
She startled when her phone’s alarm went off, then froze and stared at her arm. Whatever she wrote now could potentially been seen.
She licked her lips, then very carefully, on her best handwriting, she wrote. “Hello!”
She waited with bated breath for a minute, then two, then disappointment started setting in.
She was just being silly. Of course her soulmate wasn’t just sitting there, staring at their mark. She sighed, then added, “My name is Layla.” so it could be read later at some moment.
Her eyes widened when she saw a line appear on her arm, then a weird squiggle, before both disappeared. She stared at her arm intently, waiting. A couple more squiggles appeared and disappeared.
Then, a full line of text appeared. “Hello, my name is Marc.” Everything was written in very messy Arabic, except for the name, it was written in the Latin alphabet.
Her eyes widened. Her soulmate was a foreigner, then. That was not very usual, but she was still excited. She had learned English when she was a child, because she had felt weirdly compelled to. Maybe that was why.
So, she wrote down in English. “I can speak English! My name is Layla. Where are you from?” he took a rather long time to answer, so she added, “I’m from Egypt.”
“Listen, Layla.” his handwriting was very messy still, some of the print letters were shaky and slightly lopsided. He also really was struggling to write. It was almost like a small child was writing. He once again took a long pause, then wrote, “It would be better if we didn’t talk with each other at all. Just ignore the mark.”
She froze, her eyes widened. “But why? You’re my” she stopped writing when she saw him writing again.
“I’m not interested in soulmates. Just, not interested. Please don’t write again, I’m not reading any more.” she felt her heart break as she read it.
“We don’t need to be in a relationship! We could just be friends?” she offered.
But Marc never replied to her. He probably had stopped reading like he said he would.
She felt pathetic for crying, but maybe just one good, long cry might get that out of her system forever. She should have never expected anything out of this, but getting that type of soulmate was worst case scenario, she had to accept it and move on.
----------
She wore long sleeves and avoided looking at her arms for an entire week. It wasn’t like that even made any difference, she tried telling herself. Her arms had been completely clean on the morning after her birthday, and she doubted he had written anything else.
So when she took a shower that evening, she didn’t close her eyes as she took her clothes off.
Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open when she saw beautiful, intricate drawings all over her arms, even on the side she hadn’t known the mark reached. Birds, flowers, other plants. All of it was so colourful and well drawn.
She felt her anger building as she saw each of the details. What is this?! Was Marc messing with her?
She put her palm on her arm and mercilessly wiped the drawings clean from her left arm with a single swipe.
“Oh, hello! I’m sorry, I hadn’t seen that yet! You’re so talented!” a very curly, very beautiful script appeared across her wrist. The sheer difference between it and the one she had seen before gave her a pause.
She sat down heavily on the lid of the toilet, confused. “Hello.” she wrote back hesitantly.
“Hi! You’re talking with me now!” he drew a smiley face next to it. Layla was surprised. “My name is Steven Grant. What is yours?”
“I’m Layla El-Faouly.” she wrote down with a confused frown. Steven, not Marc? So, had someone else written on his mark the other day? Was that even possible? Maybe that explained why his handwriting had been so bad and why he had written so slowly, it was the effort of doing something he wasn’t supposed to be able to do.
“I’m so excited to finally talk with you, Layla! Your drawings are always so beautiful, I love them.” he wrote down very quickly. Layla hesitated.
“I didn’t draw those. I thought it was you who did.” she wrote down with a frown.
“Really?” she got back almost instantly, then nothing else. She prepared to write after a moment, but paused when he started writing again. “That’s odd. I can’t draw at all.”
Layla was very uncomfortable. “Someone may be hijacking our mark somehow. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“What? No! I, well, I mean, I was waiting for you to answer me. You never replied to any of my messages before. But I guess it wasn’t you.” he wrote quickly. “Not that you need to be my girlfriend or anything, no pressure!”
“No, it wasn’t me.” she agreed, now even angrier with the hijacker than she had been before. “And I’d love to know you better. Where are you from?”
“I’m from London! And I really want to know you better too!” he wrote quickly. She felt herself relax and smiled. It seemed her true soulmate wasn’t an asshole.
“I’m from Cairo, Egypt.” she wrote back.
“Whoa, Cairo! That’s amazing! I’ve always wanted to visit!” she could almost read the excitement in the print, it was like the ink was sparkling. She giggled, relaxing even more.
“Maybe you should visit, then. My mother would love to have you visit us.” she wrote down with a grin, and laughed when he started writing squiggles and nothing else for a while.
Then, he wrote, “Yes, that would be brilliant! I’ll need to save up some money from work first.”
“Take your time.” she replied with a smile. “What do you work with?”
“I’m” he stopped and didn’t write anything else for a long moment. Then, he continued, “I’m trying to become a museum guide.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I’m studying to be an Archaeologist like my father.” she wrote down with a grin.
He was excited. “That’s amazing! I love Archaeology! I wish I could graduate, but I was too sick, I couldn’t really keep up.”
She frowned. “Sick?”
“I just have a poor immune system. Can’t take a lot of stress over time. I have a very bad memory too.” he seemed to hesitate, and just wrote plain spiral lines a couple times. Then, he added, “I’m sorry, I guess that’s not ideal in a soulmate.”
“No, don’t say that.” she wrote quickly. “It’s fine, I just wanted to kno”
She stopped writing when he wrote, “Oh, sorry! My boss is complaining, I really need to go. I hope we can talk later!”
“I’d like that, yeah.” she agreed.
“See you later, love!” he added, and she felt her cheeks heat up as she grinned at the words and the small red heart next to them.
She felt a lot more cheered up as she got into the shower. She erased the other drawings, and just left her conversation with Steven on their arms.
She got busy helping her mum with dinner and the house, that was still a bit of a mess after her brother recently visited for a week with his wife and three children, and then she was so tired that she ended up falling asleep.
She woke up in the middle of the night feeling thirsty, and it was only because she was holding the glass up to drink that she saw the bird being draw on her right arm. Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re not Steven. Is that you, Marc?” she quickly wrote down on her left arm, which had unfortunately been wiped clean by him, then made a huge smudge over the bird to get his attention.
He did stop drawing, and she got nothing else for a long five minutes. Then, she got a reply. “I’m neither. My name is Jake.”
She was taken aback. His handwriting looked different, too, it resembled Marc’s, but it didn’t look like a six-year-old trying to write, even if it was a bit of a messy scrawl still.
“What is this? How can a bunch of people write on my soul mark?” she asked, baffled. She got no response for a long time, and grimaced when she realized she wasn’t going to.
She was going to have to talk with her dad in the morning. She had been avoiding talking about her soul mark, but she would have to. Maybe one of his colleagues in the university would know what was going on. She just drank her water, then went back to bed.
But when she sat on the bed, she saw there was more writing on her arm. It was Marc’s messy, childish handwriting. “I told you not to write on the mark any more.”
She was incensed. “It’s not your mark, it’s Steven’s, so stop hijacking it! Your handwriting is awful.” she was maybe being petty, but she didn’t care, he deserved it.
He wrote a bunch squiggles, then he wrote, “Look at your right arm.”
She huffed, but she did turn her right arm around and looked. In there, it was written, “I’m left handed,” in a script that looked like Jake’s, but this time, it actually looked very neat and pretty.
Ah, that explained a lot. Except it didn’t at all. “If you’re writing on Steven’s arm, what does it matter which hand you write with on his left arm?”
This time he made an arrow pointing to her right arm, so she rolled her eyes then looked at it. “Because they’re my arms. I am Steven and Steven is me.”
She frowned. It was very strange wording. She played at his game and put an arrow towards their left arm, then wrote. “If you lied about being called Stev” she stopped when he scratched a huge arrow over what she was writing, and she looked at her right arm.
“Nobody lied. We’re insane. Mad. We’re the same person, but we’re not. Our mind is just broken, and Steven doesn’t remember me, and I barely remember what he does. I told you not to talk to us, we’re” his scrawl looked agitated.
The text he had been writing suddenly looked illegible, smudged over. Then a large and slightly messy ‘STOP’ appeared under it, and an arrow pointing to their left arm. Layla hesitated, but she looked at it. Jake’s print was there, he was still writing.
“He’s just being dramatic, love, ignore him.” and something furiously scribbled in red over his words, then “I’m not!” appeared in a sloppy hand over it. “Go to sleep, Marc.” Jake wrote again.
“Are you messing with me?” she asked hesitantly, half way between angry and concerned.
“We are three people who share a body, that is all.” Jake’s handwriting explained. “It is because of a mental health disorder, but Marc is just being an idiot, ignore him. We’re perfectly fine people. But we have the same arms, and same the mark.”
Layla had no idea what to say to that. After a moment, she asked, “What’s the name of it?” because at least she could research that.
“Dissociative Identity Disorder.” was written in Jake’s script. “I need to have a chat with Marc, it’s very late in Cairo, maybe we can chat tomorrow? Good night, love.”
Layla frowned. “Alright. Good night.” she wrote back, then just laid in bed and stared at the ceiling for a long time. She looked at her arms again and wrinkled her nose in annoyance when she saw they were both wiped clean.
At least she could remember what he had written. She typed on her cellphone the name of the disorder and started reading up on the results she got.
--------
Layla startled awake and sat up, wincing when she realized she had just dropped her phone on the floor. She quickly grabbed it and breathed out in relief when she saw it was still whole.
It was morning already. She heard her mum shouting something at her dad, but he was laughing, so it was likely nothing bad. She huffed, then glanced at her arms, not really expecting to see anything there.
So her eyebrows climbed up when she saw there was a whole block of text on her right arm. She took a picture of it, just in case Marc cleaned it before she could read, then started reading it.
“Okay, this is Marc. I’m really sorry about everything I said. I was being an asshole, I admit. But I didn’t want you to talk to us, we’re more trouble than we’re worth. But I acknowledge that is your choice, so could we start over again? We can be in Cairo on the weekend after the next if your offer still stands. I think some conversations are better when they’re had in person.”
She sat up straighter, alert. That was sudden, specially by the way Steven had talked, she had thought he couldn’t afford the travel. She studied Marc’s handwriting as she thought about it. She had read about DID last night, she did understand it better now, and she sort of understood why Marc might be worried. Even if she wasn’t sure she could forgive him yet.
She was startled when the text suddenly disappeared, and a small “I’m sorry.” appeared instead. Layla winced.
“I’ll be waiting. What time?” she tried writing with her left hand, and made a face at how terrible her handwriting looked. She hated to admit it, but Marc actually had skill with his off hand. She did not.
“There’s a plane leaving Friday morning, it should arrive at five in the afternoon. Does that work for you?” his writing appeared under hers.
“Yes.” she wrote in block letters instead, and it looked worse but at least more legible.
“I’ll be there.” he wrote to her, then erased everything else they had talked about. Layla huffed, that was really annoying.
She drew an arrow under his words to their left arm, then wrote there with her right hand. “Why do you keep erasing everything we say? Give me time to read it. I was asleep when you wrote that essay, you know?”
He drew an arrow, but she was already looking at her right arm. He carefully wrote, “Steven doesn’t know about me and Jake. He’s going to panic if he sees all this. He’ll be up for work soon.”
“Why are you hiding from him?” she asked him with a frown. But all the answer she got was all the text disappearing from both their arms. She huffed, annoyed. Did he not realize Steven would notice if he was suddenly in the middle of Cairo, even with no recollection of how he got there? “You’re an idiot.”
“Oh, hi.” that was Steven’s handwriting. Layla winced.
“That was meant for Marc, not you, Steven.” she wrote quickly.
“Who is Marc? Is he the one who leaves the drawings?” Steven’s words appeared slowly.
“No, that’s Jake. Marc is just an idiot.” Layla wrote, grimacing.
“Thank you.” appeared in Marc’s script, and then it transitioned smoothly to Steven’s script. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I wrote that. I feel half asleep, I need tea.”
Layla blinked. “Alright. Chat to you later.” she shouldn’t be surprised Marc could hijack Steven’s hand, she watched Jake do it to Marc last night. It was still interesting.
“No, I’m still here, just getting tea. So, who is Marc?” he wrote again, then a very, very messily written ‘NO’ appeared over their arm, as if they were wrestling for control of the pen. Layla realized they were in over their heads there.
“I’ll tell you when you’re here in Cairo on the 19th, I promise.” she wrote down instead of making the situation worse. It would give Marc a week to get prepared at least.
“I, I can’t go to Cairo yet, I mean” Steven’s handwriting was a bit shaky. She decided she had already made the situation bad enough.
“I got you a plane ticket for Friday morning, don’t worry about it.” she got no answer for a very long time.
Then it was written in Jake’s script. “I really like you, hah.”
------------
Layla and Jake hashed out the details of the travel in the next couple of days.
For the rest of the week, she got nothing but Jake’s drawings. They were beautiful, and the times she caught him drawing at night, she was impressed by how skilled he was.
She started drawing too, some times new things, some times decorations around what he had made. He seemed to like the game, and sometimes he would just add on to her own drawings, covering the dogs, cats and rabbits she drew with a drapery of flowers and jewels.
One morning she was startled to wake up to a blue and white star of David not far from her right elbow. The shading and style was not Jake’s, she got a feeling that Marc was trying to tell her something without actually saying it. She watched it for a long moment, then very carefully drew a crescent moon around it, slowly so it would still look good with her left hand, then tried to frame it with a heart to tell him she got it. Later in the day Jake had gotten a hold of it, removed the heart and covered everything in flowers, fixing both her and Marc’s drawings to make them look nicer and better shaded and painting the moon golden.
Jake could draw just as well on their right arm, but she couldn’t really. She tried doing sketches, instead, and watched as he filled them out for her. By the middle of the next week they had a system, with her drawing mostly on their left arm and him drawing mostly on their right.
Writing on the back of their arm was a lot harder, too, but now she knew it was possible, she was able to after a few days.
Friday at noon, she saw Jake’s handwriting. “We’re already on the plane.”
She felt excited and a bit nervous. “I’ll pick you up when you arrive.”
“We’ll be wearing short sleeves so you can recognize us.” Oh, that was a brilliant idea.
Layla could do that too, even though she was sure she would get glares for that. A lot of people thought that showing your soul mark was indecent. At least her parents were going too, they were eager to meet him, if someone tried to harass her, she wouldn’t be on her own.
“I’ll do that too.” she added under his.
“I like you already.” Jake added quickly under hers. Layla chuckled.
“You’ve said that before.” she teased. He started drawing small flowers all around the text on their arm, and she just smiled and turned her attention to getting ready instead.
She had been trying to hide from her parents Marc’s initial snub, so she had only worn long sleeves ever since she hit age twenty and had been secretive about the mark. She put on a jacket to go to the airport, and only took it off when they were already at the arrivals.
She knew her mum would make a big deal of it, and she didn’t disappoint with her exaggerated gasp. Her dad chuckled, “We got ourselves another artist, then?”
“That’s beautiful!” her mum exclaimed, awed. Layla tried not to blush. “On both arms too! He’s talented.”
“Hush, mum, he’s probably here already.” she was looking around, but she didn’t need to look very far.
Jake had already seen her, and he had a shy smile on his face. She waved her mum away, then walked up towards him. He gave her a very hesitant wave.
“Hello.” she greeted him with a smile.
“Hi. You’re beautiful.” he was adorable, so awkward and shy, but he still had his head and shoulders held high. It was a strange mix. Layla chuckled.
“I had a lot of help from you.” she teased, lifting her right arm. “You’re very handsome yourself.”
He licked his lips then cleared his throat. “I’m... not Jake.”
“Oh! Steven, then?” he blushed and looked away.
“Not really.” Oh. For some reason, it never crossed her mind Marc could look so adorable and shy. He was practically squirming under her gaze. “I told Jake you’d prefer to see him, he’s stubborn.” he cleared his throat again. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. We’ll talk about that later.” she watched his face as he looked at her again. She didn’t get the impression that he hated her like she had when she read what he wrote. He seemed interested in her.
She was surprised when he pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you in person, Layla.” he pulled away and smiled at her.
She smiled back at him. “Nice to meet you too, Marc. You’re a lot nicer in person.” he avoided her eyes again. “Come on. Let me introduce you to my parents.” she took him by his hand. His palms were sweaty, he really was anxious. “Can you talk in Arabic?”
“Yup.” he agreed in a high pitched murmur. He was so shy, her parents would probably freak him out, she tried not to wince.
“Come on, then. My mum can’t really speak English, but my dad can, if you need anything.” she pulled him towards her parents, she almost felt him resist her pull. He had just one luggage, a very big one, and a carry on bag.
As soon as her mum called them, she felt him involuntarily squeeze her hand, then his hand seemed to relax in her grip more than it had been before. She had been dragging him behind her, but he was standing by her side now, and he looked much less tense.
“Hello! You must be mum and dad, pleasure to meet you!” he greeted in easy Arabic, offering his hand for her dad to shake. His voice was different, his posture was different, and the grin on his face was completely shameless. “I’m Marc Spector.”
Layla looked askance at him, and he threw a wink at her. She hesitated, then turned around and silently mouthed. “Jake?” his grin widened and he subtly nodded. She was really thrown off guard. They had different handwritings, but she wasn’t expecting them to look that different.
He talked as much as her mum on their way back home, she seemed to be having the time of her life. Layla and her dad barely got any word in between them. She was almost expecting her mum to sit him on the couch and spend the rest of the day talking when they arrived, but her dad shooed them both away and told Layla to show him the guest room.
“Seems like my mum likes you.” she told him with a grin as soon as they were alone in the corridor. He chuckled, then turned to her and took her hand.
“I’m Jake. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” he greeted in a seductive lower voice, kissing the back of her hand as he looked straight into her eyes. Layla felt her face flush.
“You have a different accent.” she noted, now that they were both speaking in English again.
“Our voice does that.” he agreed easily. His voice was also far less tense. Marc had had a confident posture, but Jake just oozed confidence with everything he did. She felt her heart beat faster. “Steven’s too. We should talk about Steven. He won’t remember where we are when he pops around.”
She blinked. “Alright. I’ll talk to him. Maybe we could put post its on the door, in case he’s alone?”
“Do you want to talk about it to your parents?” Jake wondered, pulling on their luggage again. She took that as a sign she should go on, so she motioned to him and walked further down the corridor. “They would see the notes.”
“That’s your choice. I don’t mind either way.” she offered.
“We might want to tell them, then. I have the feeling they will notice if we’re here for a week. Marc and I can pretend to be each other, Steven is not good at that.” he explained.
Layla thought that it was very obvious that Jake and Marc were different, but then again, she had been expecting them to be different. Her parents hadn’t mentioned anything yet.
“Here, this will be your room while you’re here. There are towels and blankets in the wardrobe it you need them, you can ask me for more if you need...” she trailed off when she looked at him again.
Marc was standing there. The difference was starkly clear to her, and it still threw her off. “Hi, Marc.”
He was surprised. “...How can you tell it’s me?”
“Are you serious? It’s obvious.” she snorted. He raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. “So, you wanted to talk with me?” she prodded.
He chewed on his lower lip and folded his hands in front of him. “I... I wanted to apologize for what I said. Jake told me it was your birthday, and I was pretty drunk that night. It’s just, PTSD is not something easy to live with, and I didn’t want to put that on you. And if you decided you couldn’t deal with it later, it would have crushed Steven, and I couldn’t live with that either.”
Layla sighed. “I understand why you did it.” she glared. “But you didn’t have to be an asshole about it.”
He swayed from foot to foot. “I’m not the best when it comes to talking with and comforting friends. I’m sorry about that.” he cleared his throat. “I’m just really good at scaring people away from Steven.”
Layla’s eyebrows shot up. “I can see that.” he offered her a half smile, and she smiled back. “Alright. Let’s try again, then?” she offered her hand, and he easily shook it.
Then he looked uncertain and pulled her hand up to kiss the back. It was the most awkward thing she ever saw. “Did Jake tell you to do that?” she asked him with a smirk.
He sighed and shrugged. “I tried.” she giggled. “Got you to giggle.” he added with a grin.
She snorted. “You’re an idiot.” he was still smiling.
“There’s something else. About my job...” he pressed his lips.
“Steven seemed embarrassed about it...” she began, and he shook his head.
“Steven works in a gift shop. That’s not a problem. I mean the job that allows me to afford a round trip to Cairo at the drop of a hat.” he sighed. She frowned and nodded, motioning for him to go on. He hesitated. “I’m a superhero and a relic hunter.”
Layla blinked. “What?” he just squirmed in place again. “Are you serious?”
“I’m very serious.” he looked down at the floor. “I know it’s weird, and it might be a deal breaker, so...”
“I want to be a relic hunter, you know.” she studied him. “Do you have super powers?”
Marc looked into her eyes again and smiled weakly. “Yeah.”
“Wait. Would I have heard of your name?” her eyes widened “Are you Steven Strange?”
Marc snorted. “No. I guess you could have, I go by Moon Knight, the Avatar of Khonshu.” he explained. Her eyes widened.
“Wait. You’re... you’re the Avatar of Khonshu? The actual god?” she watched him with parted lips when he agreed. Her lips turned up into a grin. “I’m the Avatar of Taweret.”
He was taken aback. “What? Really?”
“Yes, really. The Scarlet Scarab. Pleasure to meet you.” she grinned as she manifested the bracelet of her armour and offered him her hand. He blinked, then he chuckled and did the same, manifesting a white glove before shaking her hand. She beamed at him. “I hope you weren’t intending to scare me off, because this sounds even better now.”
“I was hoping I wasn’t going to scare you off.” Marc said softly. “I just expected you would ask for proof I couldn’t give over distance.” he hesitated. “Steven doesn’t know about it.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “And you intend to keep him in the dark?” Marc just looked uncomfortable. “Do you want help telling him about it?”
He let out a heavy breath. Then his posture changed. “That would be lovely, Layla.”
She grinned. “I’ll help you, Jake. I assume the three of you are Avatars of Khonshu.”
“Yes, but Steven doesn’t know. He doesn’t know us, either. Trying to talk with him is very hard.” Jake put his hands in his pockets. “I always wanted to use the soul mark to do it, that’s how Marc and I figured each other out. But Marc’s always been averse to it. I suppose I understand why, the mark belongs to you too. It’s not a tool.”
“You can talk with Steven through our mark. I don’t mind.” she reassured him. “I like the drawings you make for him.” Jake smiled.
“Steven used to write poetry on the mark, you know.” he said lightly.
“Oh? He hasn’t done it, has he?” she glanced at the marks, but she knew there were only their drawings.
“He got bullied and mocked for it, so he got too embarrassed to do it again. Maybe you could convince him to? I never could.” he really seemed to be asking for a favour.
So she nodded. “I’ll try.” she agreed. “Now, come on, you must be starving, and my mum will start shouting for us if we’re not downstairs soon.” she went out the door and took him by his hand.
Jake chuckled and followed her.
-----------
Marc was very quiet the next morning, she assumed he was suffering from some sort of jet lag, so she just invited him to drink some juice on the garden outside and mostly allowed him to be quiet.
She was starting to get worried when he seemed to start nodding off, specially when his head started tipping down, and then it suddenly jerked up.
“Do you need to sleep a bit longer? We’re not on a time limit.” she asked him softly. His eyes widened as he turned to her, and she had the strong impression he wasn’t Marc any more.
“No, I’m alright, thank you.” he cleared his throat and looked around. That has definitely not Marc’s accent. It wasn’t Jake’s, either.
“Steven?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah?” he asked just as quietly, looking askance at her. He looked at the table, then awkwardly reached for his juice glass and took a sip.
He was trying very hard to pretend nothing had changed. For some reason, that made Layla smile.
“Do you know who I am?” she asked him, amused.
“Yeah?” he licked his lips nervously. The answer was clearly no. She chuckled. She pulled up her right sleeve and placed her arm next to his so he could see the matching drawings. His eyes instantly lit up. “Layla?”
“That’s me.” she agreed. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m aces.” he watched her with wide eyes. “Are we in Cairo?” he looked around again, including at the sky, far more alert this time.
“Yes.” she agreed with a chuckle.
“I forgot the travel. I guess I don’t like airplanes much.” he explained nervously.
“That’s because it was Marc and Jake who brought you here.” she corrected him. He looked at her again, startled. Then, his eyes narrowed.
“Yes. You said you were going to tell me who Marc is... Is he around?” Steven looked around warily.
“He’s inside your mind, Steven. Both Marc and Jake. You have the same body, you just don’t remember each other. It’s Jake who makes all these drawings.” she explained, showing him the drawings Jake had made. “Well, half of them now, I draw the other half.”
“What? Really?” he sounded confused and a bit fascinated. Not scared as Marc had been afraid he would be. “Is that why they could draw on my mark even when we were children? I remember people saying it wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Yes, probably. I could always draw on my own mark when I was little too.” she agreed, smiling. “Jake told me you used to write him poetry. He misses it, and I’d really like to see.”
Steven blushed and looked down at his hands. “Oh, I’m really bad at it.”
“It’s okay, it’s not like I’m good at drawing either.” she pointed out. Steven looked offended.
“What? No! Those drawings are amazing. Both you and Jake are great. I can tell which are yours, by the way, I really like them.” he pointed at his left arm. “I’d just spoil it with my poetry.”
“Your handwriting is very pretty. It would look beautiful around our drawings.” she took out a pen from her pocket, then offered it to him. “How about you try one?”
Steven blushed again, but he took the pen and moved his chair closer to hers. She hadn’t expected him to want to write on her arm, but she did extend to him her right arm when he reached for it.
His calligraphy was far more elaborate and artistic this time as he wrote a small poem under one of Jake’s birds. It was a beautiful little poem. She smiled. “You’re good. I really like it.”
He smiled back at her, pleased and a little embarrassed. “Thank you. I’ll do it more often.” he promised.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She chuckled.