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Layla frowned when she felt the bed dip beside her. The flick of the light switch, followed by a volley of coughing had her sitting up as well, embracing the darkness momentarily before following the light into the hallway. She looked down both ways before deciding to try the living room first before the kitchen, and sure enough, there’s where he was.
Marc, head stuffed up with a cold, pacing the room in long sleep pants and a plain white t-shirt. It was the only thing Layla had been able to coax him in as every other thing he owned was raw against his overly sensitive skin. Even clothes that Marc had deemed as ‘safe’ were bothering him. Layla hated to see how that had worked him up, the tears of frustration glittering in his gaze when even things that he felt he had under control were unraveling right in front of his very eyes.
Sickness was always something that Marc didn’t deal with well. He was used to powering through by himself, keeping away from others for fear of repercussions. It also made his mental state even more tedious than it already was. Switches were sudden and jarring, sensory issues increased tenfold, and a crippling sense of unease was always apparent. Sure, they had found a few things to ease it, but nothing had been able to really calm Marc down enough for him to be able to relax.
Layla feared it was almost a lost cause as not only did Marc pick up his pacing, his hands came up to flap by his ears, fingers wriggling so quickly that they were practically a blur. He started to skip as he walked, left hand coming down to slam on his thigh so hard that Layla felt herself instinctively jump at the sound. Marc’s hand resumed it’s flapping before he let out a harsh shout, one that any normal person would’ve thought may have been one of anger, but for Layla, she knew it was one of fear.
“Marc?”
Marc’s head snapped around, eyes feral. His muscles flexed as he turned on her, and although he was in a defensive stance, Layla knew that she wouldn’t turn on her. Not right now and not about this. Jake on the other hand…..
“Can I talk to Steven?”
“Who’s Steven? Who the hell are you talking about,” Marc roared before breaking out in barking cough. It bent it double as he clutched at his chest with one hand, other than rested on the couch to keep him upright.
Against her better judgement, Layla drew forward and rested a hand on his back, rubbing softly. “Sorry, I’m a little tired. I must’ve been thinking about someone else. Do you think you can come back to bed with me?”
Marc shivered away from her touch and shook his head gravely. An almost haunted look passed over his face, lips parted as he struggled to breathe through his nose. His head gave another shake before he drew his fingers into a claw-like posture and rotated them backwards and forwards. He was trying to self soothe, possibly before things reached a cusp that they were unable to work back from.
“Do you want to look at the stars?”
Marc wrinkled his nose. “Khonshu,” he rasped.
“Not tonight. Just you and me.” For once she actually meant it. If Marc seemed to have no recollection of Steven nor Jake, then this may have been the quietest his brain had ever been, or at least in a long while.
Marc took a moment to ponder what Layla had said, rocking from foot to foot with a bleary look on his face. Layla realized too late what was happening as he sucked in a massive breath and pivoted off to the side, away from Layla though he didn’t manage to lift a hand or elbow to his face.
“Hrshc’sSh’Shoo! Hrshcs’Sh’Shoo!”
“Bless you,” Layla exclaimed as she looked around the room for the box of tissues they had used earlier.
Marc seemed to beat her to it, heel of his palm pressed against his nose and shoved upwards. While Layla scoured the room, Marc trailed toward the balcony, bare feet dragging on the ground. His wrist swiped over his glistening nostrils as he walked, hollow coughs thumping in his chest. His eyes squinted as he pushed open the sliding glass door, goosebumps sprouting along his skin as a cool breeze billowed around him.
He swayed over to the edge of the railing, hands rested on the cool metal. It momentarily eased the feeling in his hands that needed to grip something hard and solid. Too often it turned out to be his own arms until he left blossoming red marks under his nails. He hated to see the look of heartbreak on Layla’s face when he tended to harm himself, even without meaning to. Having something else to take out his frustration or desires on besides his own body was always preferred.
His body teetered over the edge hesitantly before drawing back. He repeated it a few times, harsh rocking that ordinarily would’ve gotten him dizzy now welcome. He sniffled hard as his head tipped up to stare at the stars twinkling above. He traced each constellation and spoke their names out loud, a shadow of fear at the back of his mind as he half expected the Moon God to show up. He could practically hear the grating voice in the back of his mind. His hand came up to swat at the back of his head repeatedly, first to chase the thoughts away, and after as it became compulsory.
“Hey, hey, hey,” scolded Layla as she came rushing in with a thick blanket. She didn’t dare touch him, though she did throw the blanket around his shoulders.
That was enough to momentarily tear Marc’s attention from himself. He shuffled back over to the loveseat they had set outside for occasions such as this; when Marc’s mind was impossible to calm and the warm breeze brought comfort that not even Layla could provide. Usually he wasn’t ill as well, which was only complicating things, to which Layla hoped it would still have the same calming effect.
Once Marc had sat on the loveseat, Layla hesitantly joined him. Her knees tucked under herself as she was sure to keep her distance from Marc so not to make things worse.
“They’re looking especially bright tonight,” Layla commented. “Especially Orion.”
Marc nodded in agreement. His left hand lifted weakly to point at it, tracing each curve and sharp line until exhaustion won out and his arm dropped to his lap. His breath caught as he coughed again, this time tucking his head into the blanket and attempting to muffle the sound through tightly sealed lips. It could’ve been them being outside and potentially being heard, but Layla couldn’t stop herself from tapping her foot against Marc’s.
“I thought we talked about this,” she whispered soothingly. “You don’t have to hold back in front of me.”
Marc grimaced. “Sometimes it just…..feels better.”
That was something Layla could understand, maybe not fully, but she knew where he was coming from. She had done her best to try and figure out Marc as much as possible, and with some help from Steven, she felt she had a better picture of everything that had happened to him. She had never wanted to pry when she wasn’t welcome, though the amount of nights she spent holding Marc in the middle of the night as he fought himself, clawing and hitting himself to the point of injury was difficult to forget. So many questions still were left unanswered, and part of Layla wondered if they ever would be.
“I understand that. Just know that you don’t have to.”
That seemed to appease Marc for the time being. There would be plenty of time to discuss this when Marc wasn’t sick, and his senses weren’t operating in overdrive.
Marc gave another shiver and buried deeper into the blanket. His nose had started to run again, though neither he nor Layla brought any attention to it. Glassy eyes stayed glued on the sky as if that was the only anchor that he could count on in the moment.
“Marc?” The sick man froze at the mention of his name. “Can I check you for a fever? I don’t like how much you’re shivering.”
Face twisted in a grimace, Marc turned towards Layla to give her a better vantage point. There would be no verbal answer, Marc unable to find the strength to accept in any other way before using his own body language. Touch could be tricky at the best of times, add in a potential fever and everything became that much more complicated.
Layla lifted her hand slowly, always kept in Marc’s line of vision, and rested the backs of her four fingers against his brow. Marc breathed heavily, eyes laced in pain, but he didn’t pull away. That was progress if ever Layla saw it.
“Definitely warm,” she commented as she withdrew her fingers. That could explain the added restlessness. However, the usual stuff was just Marc being Marc.
Marc relaxed once her fingers lowered, though it did seem like part of him wanted that touch. His eyes widened as he looked to her, head suddenly bowing forward until it nearly rested on her lap. He left just enough space that their skin never touched, though Layla could feel the warmth of his breath through her pants and the blanket they now shared.
“We’ll get through this, love. I promise.”
Before she could stop herself, Layla leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Marc’s forehead. The rigidity she felt through her mate was almost immediate and she feared he would retreat to the corner of the loveseat, or worse, perhaps the balcony all together. An apology was already ready on her lips when Marc let out a long sigh and lifted his head to perch it on Layla’s shoulder, shimmying close so they shared the warmth. No other part of his body touched her besides his head to the crook of her shoulder and neck, but Layla would take this as the win that it was. Unwilling to spook him, she kept the remaining distance, hardly breathing.
“M’sorry,” Marc wheezed. “Maybe Steven—“
“Hush,” Layla chided, a little harsher than she intended. “I want you and only you. Unless you absolutely want him here, then I’ll do what’s best for you. But…I always choose you.”
Whatever tension Marc had been holding in his body seeped to evaporate. Tightness may have still gripped his chest, his illness sometimes stealing his mind, but out here on the balcony with the stars overhead, it was the one place that Marc could relax. The entire apartment was the one place he could be himself, absorbed in anger or excitement, practically racing down the hallways or flapping his hands so hard that Layla often worried his fingers would dislocate. She would take everything in stride as well as she could. They had fought literal Gods together; what could be be harder than that?
Marc’s shivering brought Layla out of her own thoughts.
“Are you cold?”
Marc shook his head vigorously. Still, he ducked his head deeper so that his face was fully obstructed by her thick curls. It took all of Layla’s self control not to laugh at Marc, how he clung to her when touch tended to be such a difficult thing. Marc really was a difficult man to figure out.
It wasn’t until Marc’s breathing started to slow that Layla began to relax herself. Head tipped back, she stared up at the glowing stars, the clusters of constellations and nebulas she could only imagine were up there. Steven would’ve been able to name every last one of them and tell her a fact about them. However, right now she craved the silence of just looking at them.
‘Thank you’ she thought to no on in particular. ‘Thank you for this.’ She took one more glance at Marc before allowing the feel of the wind around her as well as the natural moonlight above to give her the same calmness it did for Marc. She had everything she needed right beside her, and although unable to ask, she knew that Marc felt the same.