Chapter 3
Sleeping arrangements were proving to be a major struggle for the three. They'd decided on rotating who got to sleep on the bed, Steven, Marc, Jake; Steven, Marc, Jake; repeat. Marc had come up with the idea to get a foldable couch-bed, but then came the argument over whether it would be used or brand new that they would buy. Once they had settled on a brand new one - if they could find a reasonable price - the argument arose of the style and color. None of them had taken Marc to be such a stickler about the design choices that would go into the flat, but clearly this was something he was passionate about.
That or he just wanted to find some reason to argue with Jake.
Whatever the reason was, it was stressing them all out. The arguments stretched out throughout the week, with Steven being unable to quell them at all times because he had to go to work. He'd been lucky enough to find another job at one of the convenience stores nearby that paid decently not that long ago while they'd all still shared one body, and now that they were split, he'd been trying to pick up more shifts to better afford, well, everything. Every now and again, his shifts would go into the later hours of the night, leaving Jake and Marc alone in the apartment until his return, converting the space into a cave of sour moods, where the two barely exchanged words.
Jake had claimed his stake in the bathroom very much to Marc's annoyance.
"You can't just stay in the fucking bathroom, we all need to use it," he said, running a hand through his hair. The two had this argument already, in which Marc had already told him the same thing over and over, but not once did it seem to stick. "Get out, I need to shower." He crossed his arms, but Jake made no move to leave.
Jake sat on the floor of the shower, a pillow and a blanket pathetically displayed as his makeshift bed. He gave Marc a scornful look.
"I will turn that water on right now with you sitting there," Marc threatened, taking a step forward. Jake's face scrunched into a scowl.
"Just try."
Of course Marc was going to take that challenge, and he dove towards the shower valve with outstretched arms. Jake reacted quickly, but not fast enough. The water came pouring down onto them, freezing. It didn't stop Jake, though, and he grabbed Marc in a half chokehold, his other hand coming up to grab at Marc's face. Marc blindly clawed at Jake's arm that held him in place, biting aggressively at Jake's hand, causing him to retreat said hand, then, after taking a second, eventually tore himself out of his grip. Jake came tackling back at him in an instant, knocking Marc backwards against the wall, Marc hitting it with a grunt. He kicked at Jake to put distance between them, but Jake pushed himself towards him, swinging at him with a half-hearted punch. Half-hearted or not, it was still packed with power as he clocked Marc square on the nose, with Marc still kicking at him. One well-landed kick to Jake's chest sent him flying back into the other side of the shower, knocking the wind out of him. He groaned, rubbing where Marc had kicked, while Marc wiped away at the blood dripping from his nose that was already mixing with the falling water.
The two glared at each other, the sound of the water more deafening than the silence as it continued to drench them. After what felt like ages of their stare down, Marc stood and walked out of the bathroom, leaving a sopping trail behind him, a crude squelching sound following his movements. He made his way back into the open in front of the bed, where he stripped out of his soaked clothing. He grabbed whatever towel he found to be closest and rubbed his hair mostly dry with it, patted the rest of himself dry, then redressed himself in dry clothes. The bloodstains on the towel and shirt reminded him of his bloody nose, but he put it to the back of his mind to be dealt with in a moment.
He walked towards the drawer of clothes and spare towels, ripping a clean one from there, then trailed back into the bathroom, where Jake still sat in the bathroom. He hadn't changed his position, just slumped over a bit, his hand still loosely placed over his chest. The cold water continued to rain down on him. His dark eyes slowly looked up at Marc as Marc turned the water off. Marc met his gaze.
Jake's eyes, Marc noted, were less full of hate than he'd realized, but rather a type of bittersweetness, morose and tired; scared, even, Marc would dare to think but never say aloud.
He wasn't sure what it was that had compelled him to, but Marc crouched down beside the other man, hesitating, before reaching out and using the towel to dry Jake's hair. Jake jerked away from him at first, his eyes turning wild like a startled animal, and Marc pulled away, eyeing Jake carefully. When Jake looked like he wasn't going to snap at him, verbally or literally, he repeated the motion. This time, Jake let him.
Marc worked in silence, neither one of them looking the other in the eyes anymore as he did. Marc pulled Jake up to his feet, leaving the bathroom momentarily to get him a change of clothes, and returned. He helped Jake peel out of his wet shirt with surprisingly no complaints from Jake. As he unbuttoned his shirt, Marc was disquieted by how cold Jake's skin was to the touch. It seemed Jake wasn't built for the cold at all. He pressed the towel into Jake's hands.
"Get changed."
He exited the bathroom again, shutting it closed behind him. He settled himself down on the bed - it was his turn on the bed tonight. He drummed his fingers impatiently for a moment, then decided to lay back fully, thoughts flooding his mind in an instant. It was as though everything in his brain had been put on pause, and suddenly someone had hit play without warning. He drifted from one thought to the next.
Jake was slimmer than Marc, but was obviously more rugged and bulkier than Steven, and he was taller than Marc when he stood. His shoulders weren't as broad as Marc's, though, he recalled. Jake also seemed to display scars that Marc remembered them sharing when they shared a body, scars from the countless fights they'd been a part of. He let his hand wander up his own shirt, tracing the spots on his stomach where Jake had the scars, finding that most of them either felt very faded or simply weren't found on his own body at all. He wondered if Steven shared any of the scarring now that they were separated, and why Jake had been the one to be burdened with them.
Jake had been awfully cold, he remembered, yet he'd tussled with rigor. Now that Marc was thinking about it, whenever Jake had fronted and whenever Marc had gotten glimpses of him in their headspace, Jake had worn a jacket, that usual faux leather jacket of his. Marc had assumed it was part of that "bad boy persona" Jake clearly tried to carry, but now he was wondering if he'd actually just been cold the entire time.
He was very defensive, too. That was something Marc knew well because he was just as defensive. Unlike Marc and Steven, though, Jake could basically be classified as a mystery to them. They knew next to nothing about him, and he didn't seem very keen to share. He wasn't as argumentative as Marc, but he seemed to find some sort of glee in instigating and provoking him. Towards Steven, however, Marc could see a weird sort of softness to him. He didn't really try to poke fun at Steven, but he also didn't necessarily go out of his way to be kind to him. He just didn't bother Steven as much and was rather agreeable with him whenever Steven would approach him about anything.
Marc found himself drifting off into a dozing state as he kept thinking, but was jolted back awake when he heard Jake shuffling out of the bathroom. He hadn't been loud at all, but being the light sleeper that he was, Marc had easily awoken once more. Marc watched him through lidded eyes; he'd spent most of the time fighting with Jake that he hadn't realized how tired he seemed.
Jake didn't look back at him. Instead, he wandered away, out of Marc's view around the shelves. Marc considered going to him, try and start up a conversation. They'd shared a brief moment together back in the bathroom, he thought, then letting it dawn upon him how weird it had been. He and Jake were practically strangers despite coexisting for years in the same body.
He rolled onto his side, shutting his eyes again. It was almost 11pm and Steven would be home soon.
Marc must have drifted off to sleep and everything was silent until he felt a shift of weight on the bed beside him. He sat up in a snap, turning to find Jake settling down beside him. The only light was the lamp left on towards the entrance of the apartment so that Steven wouldn't be tripping on himself when he came in. Despite the low lighting, Marc squinted at Jake, trying to read whatever expression he wore, but he was unreadable. Whether it was because of the poor illumination or because Jake simply didn't let his emotion show on his face was anyone's guess.
"It's my turn on the bed," was the first thing out of Marc's mouth, his tone sounding more accusatory than he'd intended. Jake finally looked at him, his eyes gleaming in the mid darkness.
"My shit got wet."
Right. And that was technically Marc's fault.
"Fine. I'll move when Steven gets here." Jake didn't reply. He grabbed the blanket and tossed it over himself, laying as far away from Marc as possible, basically flopping himself over the edge. Marc mirrored the position on the other end. It wasn't ideal, but Marc figured so long as Jake didn't say otherwise, he'd stay in the bed until Steven got home; then, he'd go make himself comfortable on whatever spot on the floor wasn't cluttered. Knowing Jake was on the opposite end of him made him feel a bit uneasy, but it didn't deter him from trying to get at least a few minutes of sleep on the bed since he'd have to wait another two days before he'd get another chance to sleep on it.
Every time he almost drifted off again, though, Jake cleared his throat. At first, he assumed it was a one time thing, but it kept happening. Again.
And again.
And again.
Until Marc finally sat up and turned to Jake, saying, "Oh, my God, are you serious." It wasn't phrased as a question, but rather as a frustrated statement. Jake sat up, too, looking equally, if not more frustrated.
"I'm sorry, okay?!" he said angrily. "I've been trying to say I'm sorry, but you're one of the most irritating people. You make it so hard to apologize to you."
"I was literally just lying here."
"Not about the bed, culero."
"You just love resorting to calling me names, don't you?!"
"I'm trying to apologize to you!"
"Lousy way of doin' it!"
"I don't understand you, Marc Spector." Jake let out a sour laugh, and the gentle, scared man Marc had seen in the bathroom earlier was quickly dissipating. "Just when I think you might not be that bad, you go and open your big mouth."
"Seriously, what did I do to you?" Even Marc could hear the plea that edged in his own voice.
"You didn't do anything. You're just so goddamned irritating. Let me speak, would ya?!" Marc tried to argue again, wanting to tell him to elaborate, but Jake's pointed look made him snap his mouth shut. "You're not an easy person to get along with. You don't appreciate what you have."
"That's not-"
"That's what I initially thought." Jake shared more mannerisms with Steven than he'd let on. He held his hands on his lap, his fingers weaving and unweaving."You're stupid as hell, but you do care." He motioned towards the direction of the bathroom. "You showed me that today." He mumbled the last bit, Marc barely catching the words as they came out. Marc didn't realize he was staring at Jake, slack jawed until Jake said "Se te va meter las moscas" while gesturing at his face.
"I, uh. I don't really know what to say." He reached a hand behind his head and rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn't expected this, nonetheless from Jake. "I thought you were the pissy one 'cause you always got a bone to pick with me," he admitted.
Jake's laugh caught him off guard. It was hearty, a chest-filled laugh with a bit of a gravelly edge to it.
"You make it too easy to get under your skin." Jake's eyes flashed with what Marc could only describe as a hint of playfulness dancing with his usual sinister glimmers.
Marc rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm, uh, I'm sorry. For makin' you think I don't appreciate what I have. Trust me, I don't think I would've made it this far in life without you two. Look at me now, I'm waiting for Steven to get home from work. He's the one maintaining us right now, and I-" He shook his head.
"We haven't been making it any easier on him."
"No, we haven't." Marc sighed, glancing at the clock. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he could read it easily. Steven would be home any minute now. He should be heading over to find himself a space to sleep, he figured, but as he prepared to stand up, Jake spoke again as though he'd read Marc's mind.
"Stay in bed."
"Huh?"
"Steven was right. It's big enough for at least two of us to share." His voice was awkward and hesitant, clearly unsure about the offer himself, and most of Marc's brain was screaming to reject the offer, but the small part that said to agree won him over.
"Okay."
The two awkward lay back down, this time just a little bit closer as to not be dangling off the edge of the bed. Jake had claimed the blanket, but Marc didn't mind. Opposite of Jake, he got warm too fast anyway. The two were silent, but any sleepiness Marc had felt before was gone, resulting him him lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. He felt Jake turn a few times before settling down.
"I'm sorry I took the bathroom away from you two." Jake's voice sounded small. Marc didn't turn to look at him.
"Why'd you pick the bathroom?"
There was no response for a few moments.
"It felt stable."
"Oh."
—
When Steven finally arrived home, the poor man felt drained from the long hours, but when he walked towards the bathroom as quietly as he could, he felt like his heart was about to explode from happiness from the scene he found on the bed.
Jake was curled up fully in the blanket. Beside him, Marc was splayed out, limbs all over the place. Both of them slept peacefully, their usual hardass demeanors nowhere to be seen. Marc hadn't even stirred upon hearing Steven enter, much to Steven's surprise. How wonderful, he thought, that the two had found at least one night of peace and solace with each other.
"Wha- why the hell is there a wet blanket and pillow in the shower…?"