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“You could have told me, you know? What it’s been like for you. About Steven. We could have handled it together.”
Marc’s heart pounded against his ears as he avoided Layla’s gaze, trying to focus on the rocking of the boat and the ululating of the partygoers dancing on the bow. Anything was better than the sincerity of her voice, the concern. Anything was better than her pity.
“Yeah,” he muttered, his voice sounding distant. His mind was oddly quiet, absent of Steven or any other pesky voice whispering in his ear. Even Khonshu had left him alone to be plagued by his own thoughts. Steven felt strangely far away, and yet at the same time, as if his fists were pounding against Marc’s head, begging him to take the reins. “That’s not really what I do, is it? Never really been able to just talk about everything.”
“Anything real?”
“Yeah,” Marc felt his chest tighten.
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have,” Layla sat back, releasing her grip on his hands. Marc felt the guilt of leaving her return to him. It made it feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t realize how much he had missed the warmth of her touch.
“Is that what Steven is for?” She asked, bending down to meet his gaze as he stared at the floor. He tried to look away. “To avoid the real?”
Marc nodded ever so slightly, clenching his fists to prevent them from shaking.
“How long has He been inside your head?” Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if speaking Steven’s name would summon him and she would lose her chance at ever seeing Marc again. For a moment, Marc thought she might be right. He closed his eyes to prevent from crying, to prevent himself from forcing Steven to take control. Wasn’t this why he had created Steven in the first place? So he wouldn’t have to face conversations like this?
“A long time.”
“How long is a long time?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
There was another soft pause as she gave up on finding his gaze, leaning back against the boat.
“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”
“If I had, would you have stayed?” Marc spoke slowly, trying not to let his pain overwhelm him. “Stayed with the idiot who doesn’t know his own name? With the man who talks to himself in the mirror? Would you have humored the little British man at the gift shop who knows more about Egyptology than his own self?”
“We would have figured it out. You could’ve gotten help. You can still get-“
“And then what would they do? Lock me in a psych ward and throw away the key? I’m sick Layla, you don’t deserve to love a sick man. A freak.”
“You’re not a freak.”
Marc sat there, fidgeting with his hands. There was no use in fighting a false accusation. He took a breath.
“Ten years,” he muttered.
“What?”
“I was Steven for ten years,” he looked up, blinking back tears. “Would you have loved me then?”
Layla shifted against the wooden bench of the boat, gaze drifting to the water and lights along the shore. She pulled at her curls, and for a moment Marc thought she might jump in. Or push him in.
“I would have waited,” she whispered with surprising surety.
“For what?”
“For you.”
There was another long pause. It was a comfortable silence. Loving. Marc soaked in her words, basking in the beauty of the woman he had ran away from. Hating himself for losing her.
“Why did you leave?” She finally said.“Why then, after all that time? I thought we were happy.”
“We were,” Marc agreed, taken back to honey moons and late night stake outs. A time when everything was easier, simpler. The blood on their hands was shared, they were the same. They were powerful. “I loved you so much Layla, and I still do. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted to run away.”
“So why did you?”
Marc took another breath. He couldn’t see Khonshu, but he knew the god was watching.
“I was scared.”
“Of what?”
“Of what Khonshu would do to you,” Marc blurted “He threatened to give his curse to you. That if I got too close, and if I-, you know, then you would be his next Avatar. And I got scared, so I did what I always do. The only thing I knew how to do. I ran.”
“Marc, I-“
“Steven was the answer to everything. He couldn’t hurt you, he didn’t feel the guilt of leaving. Steven could be happy. He could be everything I couldn’t be. So I let him stay. I let him stay in control because I was too much of a coward to protect you.”
Marc flinched as Layla wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as quiet tears made their way down his cheeks.
“Thank you, for protecting me. And for
telling me this.”
Marc tried to swallow the soft hiccups that escaped him as he nodded into her shoulder.
“I know this must have been really scary to go through alone, but I promise, you’re not alone anymore, Marc. I’m here, and I’m not going to leave you.”
The boat thudded softly against the sand as they arrived at their destination, though the two made no effort to move.
“Can I talk to Steven?” She asked softly. Marc shook his head, still wiping at tears.
“I’m scared,” he admitted. He hated how vulnerable he was, how childish he sounded. Layla didn’t seem to mind.
“Can I ask why?”
“I don’t want to lose you to him again.”
“You’re not going to lose me Marc, I promise.”
Marc shook his head again, sniffling a little as he tried to pull himself together.
“No, I don’t need him right now,” he felt a confidence fill him. He wasn’t going to run away from this. He didn’t need Steven to hide behind.
“Okay,” Layla nodded in understandinG. “I love you.””
“I love you too.”