Revelations
“Just wait a second. Just give me a second here, okay? Um- look, we don’t have to go back through it all again. We can just talk. Let’s just talk. Right here, right now. I’ll tell you- I’ll tell you everything. Okay? I’m just begging you, don’t make us go there again.”
The last few- what, hours? Did time even exist in The Duat? No matter the length of time, it had been brutal. Reliving memories that Marc thought he’d shoved down years ago. Seeing his childhood again- Steven seeing his childhood for the first time. There was a sense of betrayal to the person in front of him. Instability. Whatever ounce of trust Marc had earned from him had dissipated, and he knew that if they went into that room....it would destroy Steven completely. There would be no recovery from that. He had to let him down gently. Sure, he knew that he would have to see it eventually- But Marc would be damned if he didn’t protect him for as long as he could. He needed to be able to protect someone at least. If not his brother or himself, then Steven.
To his surprise, Steven hesitated for a moment, instead of rushing off to the room. He took a breath. Paused. “Steven, just…Just ask me any questions, and I’ll answer them honestly. I promise.”
••••••••
Steven glanced back towards the door, just knowing that their souls were out there, unbalanced, threatening the eternal condemnation he'd read all about far too many times. It wasn't something he wanted to risk coming any closer to than they already were, but… Steven looked back at Marc. It was almost difficult to now, after all he'd seen. Despite being made a fool by giving his trust to Marc in the past, he felt now that he was looking at a different person. Now that he knew- well, now that he had some sort of understanding, Marc appeared changed to him, although he knew that it was just a shift in perception. There were still some things he wanted to- needed to find out. He took a deep breath, in a fruitless effort to calm the tense situation.
"So, so . You- we- that whole." He paused, trying to find the vocabulary to express whatever it was he felt. He wasn’t sure even he knew what that was exactly at this point, everything had become so jumbled, so twisted. "Why are you remembering Mum like that? She wasn't like that at all. She would never, she would never say those things. Marc why is she like that?"
He knew that he was pressing, he knew it, but those scales weren't going to balance themselves and he wanted answers. There had to be some logical explanation to it all, something that was missing. Something. Something was off here. They had the same parents. Why was Marc remembering everything so wrong ?
••••••••••
Marc tried to brace himself for whatever question came first, yet he didn’t expect the pure denial that came from Steven’s mouth.
She was like that. She was . He had to keep reminding himself that, with how utterly delusional Steven’s image of her was. She’d done horrible things- he wasn’t remembering it wrong. He wasn’t overreacting to things that happened years ago. She was horrible. He wasn’t overreacting.
What a cruel universe, to force him to burst that bubble of innocence regarding their childhood. There were so many things that Steven didn’t know....Marc couldn’t help but feel that it was a bit unfair that he of all people had to ruin it.
Marc cracked his knuckles, shaking his head slightly. “She would, and she did.”
What you just saw weren’t the worst things she said or did either.
“She’s like that, because you’re finally seeing the truth.” To ruin someone’s reputation post-mortem....even if the person in said conversation didn’t even know they were dead? It was wrong, no matter how horrible she was. Oh god Steven didn’t even know that she was dead yet.
•••••••••••
Was Marc lying again? He’d promised that he wouldn't, but he had to be. He had to be. Because if he wasn't, then... Steven couldn't believe it, he wouldn't believe it... He didn't want to believe it. It was so far from his reality that the idea of him being wrong was completely impalpable.
That woman he saw in there- That wasn't his mum. It wasn’t . There simply wasn't any way she could be so different to him than she was to Marc. This was something he just couldn’t be mistaken about. His own mother. It didn’t make any sense. Not that anything had been making much sense recently.
"No." He shook his head, eyes trained down at the floor as his mind worked tirelessly to catch up with itself. He couldn't make eye contact, he couldn't look at Marc. "No because, because if you're telling the truth then- then what? What have I been living? Who have I been speaking to every day, because it's not her . You said you weren't going to lie, so stop it."
He paced, as if walking would make any sort of difference. He needed to make sense of it all, and Marc wasn't making any, so what was he supposed to do? Wait patiently until they were both thrown overboard? It seemed as if the floor was still rocking beneath him, swaying back and forth in a sickening motion. At least moving made him feel like he was doing something , making some progress.
••••••••••
Steven couldn’t even look at him. Christ, what had he done? Why hadn’t he told him sooner? But how could he have? Steven should never have known about any of this. He’d worked so hard to keep him from it, and yet he still failed. As per usual.
In contrast to Steven’s pacing, Marc felt like he couldn’t move. Only stand there, helpless. Steven was the protector. Not him. And now that it came to it, he was at an utter loss.
“I’m not lying, Steven. She....” he took in a breath. He couldn’t tell him that she was gone. Not yet. Neither of them were ready. “There’s a reason why she never picks up. She....Steven, she doesn’t talk to us. Hasn’t in years. That number isn't even in use, but I- I paid the bill to keep it in service for you.”
••••••••••••
"No she does, she- I talk to her, I..." he paused, the sentence finished before it even started. "Nah, you're lying, you're just trying to upset me now. Stop it, because-because if that's true then what-“ his breathing caught up with him, catching in his throat at just the wrong moment. Like an invisible hand, gripping his airways and squeezing. "What's my life been? Who's to say that I'm not telling the truth and you’re the one who's remembering it wrong? Huh?"
Steven wiped his forehead with his sleeve, his hands buried somewhere within them, the fabric in his hands grounding him somewhat. He was clinging now, he knew that, whether subconsciously or not, he knew it. Accepting that, however, was much more of a feat, and one he was struggling to bring himself to. This story, this tale of his mother was so unpalatable, he couldn’t even bring himself to taste it. He wanted nothing to do with it. That wasn’t what he knew, and he wouldn’t be convinced that once again, he was wrong.
For his entire life, things hadn't made exact sense. Waking up in random places, completely unaware of how he got there, losing track of time, everything. He couldn’t remember a single memory that wasn’t tainted by this eternal confusion of himself. Nothing was ever fully real, perpetually left to wonder whether he was dreaming, whether this was all in his head all along. There was very little that just was , and made complete sense without having to think on it and conjure meaning devised entirely of his own imagination. There was very little he could rely on to be there, and just be . Now Marc was trying to tell him that even that wasn't real. That nothing could make sense.
••••••••••
“Hey- hey, Steven- Hey .” Marc replied firmly, putting his hands on Steven’s shoulders to steady him. Make him look at his face. “Just breathe. It’s okay. You’re okay, just breathe.”
He winced when Steven suggested that he was the one remembering wrong. “No!” He snapped, automatically softening his tone when Steven flinched back. “ No . I’m not. She-“
What, she left bruises? Broken noses? Split lips? Things that get you chided for clumsiness by your middle school teachers because you’re too damn terrified to tell the truth? To say anything besides ‘I fell roller skating’ or ‘I fell out of a tree’? Too much of a damn coward to ever say anything.
“I’m not remembering it wrong. I’m not. Your mind just....it made it better. To cope.”
•••••••
"What do you mean made it better? Made what better? I don’t even know what it is!" He raised his voice, his words cracking in a foreign desperation. He was frustrated. Frustrated he couldn't remember- Why couldn't he remember? Why would he remember things differently? Why did he have to be the one who was wrong? He made eye contact.
Steven knew. Looking Marc in the eyes, he just knew . Seeing exactly what he had been hoping wasn't there. A lifetime of memories Steven could only dream of having. But it wasn’t a dream, was it? It was a nightmare. A waking hell that Marc had endured at the hands of some monster Steven couldn’t even recognise as his mum anymore. That pain. That hurt. He wanted so badly to believe that Marc was lying to him, but he wasn't. It was clear that he wasn't. Why did the truth have to hurt so much?
"What exactly am I missing here? Because Mum made perfect sense until you showed up." His voice fell flat.
••••••••••
“Made her better. What she- how she treated you. Your part of our brain completely shut out every horrible thing, but guess what? My side didn’t.” He replied, hating the fact that he was almost envious of Steven’s inability to remember.
Marc looked away, setting his jaw. “She didn’t just- it wasn’t just words. I wish that was the case. But it isn’t. She-“ he felt his throat seize.
Marc had always taken the lighter beatings. The threatening. The backhands. The quick slap around for something minor. That he could handle. That he could swallow down. Harden himself. Take the beating and move on. Don’t cry until she leaves the room. But when it got worse? That was when Steven had come into existence. Steven, who was as good as RoRo had been. Who never deserved anything. Those were the times that Marc became used to damage control. Dealing with the aftermath. Licking the wounds he shouldn’t be able to count as his own.
•••••••
"What do you mean?" Steven's tone darkened, beginning to catch on to what Marc was trying to say. "You're not implying- that's horrific, why would you even say that? Why would you- no, no, no that's all wrong." He couldn't stand being stationary again, the stillness threatening acceptance that he couldn't bear to face.
"Don't say she did that, that's not- you're not. Marc that's not true." He paced, his heart rate increasing by the millisecond. His mind was vacillating dangerously between belief and disbelief. With every new piece of information, he wavered, and the longer this was drawn out, the more unstable the constant wavering became. "Its not my fault if your part of our brain is making things up, because I know my mum. Don't say I don't know her because I do, she's my mum, of course I know her, and she cares about me, and you're just lying again.” He shook his head, his hands emerging from their sleeves and running into his hair, incapable of remaining still for even a moment.
•••••••••
“you don’t even know her!” Marc snapped back at him, tone becoming thinly veiled anger. “Stop being so goddamn stubborn and accept that!” Now it was Marc’s turn to not be able to stand still, pacing for a moment, before hitting the wall with the side of a balled fist. “She beat the shit out of you, and you refuse to listen to the one person who actually knows what happened in that shithole!”
•••••••••••••••••
"No!" Steven shouted, turning back to Marc for a brief second, before walking straight past him and down the corridor, his hands tense and fidgeting, his eyes squeezed shut. "Stop it, stop it, stop it, stop it-" he repeated, as if it might make everything disappear. He needed to get away, he had to, he couldn't stand it anymore. He wasn't moving very quickly, and where he was going, he wasn't quite sure, but he wasn't exactly thinking anything through at the moment.
The invisible hand that had been lying dormant around his throat constricted again, limiting his airways and sending his breathing into an irregular gasping pattern. Small beads of sweat formed around his brow, his palms slightly damp as they formed fists every few seconds. It was as if his brain had gone into a sort of shutdown, his functions failing on him as his heart rate too, continued to skyrocket. He wasn’t walking properly, he knew that, but with his eyes squeezed shut as they were, disorientation also mounted.
The catch up game his mind was playing with him was getting ever closer, threatening his ignorance, his innocence with every passing second. What he'd seen of Marc's memories had almost processed, things beginning to sink in, yet he couldn't get around to his own mother, the woman he'd loved since he could remember, being the monster Marc was trying to convince him she was. He'd seen the way she behaved in Marc's memories but- he didn't want her to be and that was enough for now.
•••••••••
Shit . Marc stood unmoving for a moment as Steven staggered down the hall, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Steven- Steven !” He called after him, legs moving without even really realizing. He had to stop him. Had to keep him from going any further without him. The last time he had run off, Steven had experienced the cave. He had to stop him. “Steven-“ he grabbed his arm, yanking him back. “ Don’t .”
••••••••••••
"Don't what , Marc?" He turned around, releasing his hands from their gripping and ungripping motion with more aggression than he expected from himself "You don't get it, you don't get it at all!" The burst of hostility subsided, his voice becoming weak with emotion, the desperation seeping through his words like thick syrup in a sponge. He wanted so badly to keep believing his lie that it was tearing him apart from the inside. "I need to know! You can't just tell me these horrible things and expect me to be okay with it, I'm not stupid, I'm not. You won't trick me again. She-" the words wouldn’t form in his throat anymore, he didn’t know what those words would even be anymore.
Steven knew that Marc was hurt, he could tell that much. He couldn't very well say she didn't do anything because it was clear that she'd done something. She had done something, something despicable and cruel and- He just couldn't wrap his head around it at all, how could she? Why would she? That's what didn't make sense.
•••••••••••••
“You wanna know? Fine .” Marc snapped back. “I was supposed to take care of my brother. That was my one job. He wanted to go back home because it was raining, and mom told us it was dangerous. I just fuckin’ called him a baby and made him keep going. I-“ Marc’s voice faltered, quieting him momentarily, feeling himself choke up. “I killed him, Steven. It’s all my fault. Always has been. Always will be, there’s no changing that. I think what my mom said that day was- she was right. I was jealous of him. I always knew Mom liked him better. I wasn’t the best in school. Wasn’t the best in anything . I- part of me wanted to go down to the cave that day and keep going because I wanted to show that I was braver than him. That I could do something better.” There were tears welling in his eyes, but he was beyond caring.
“She beat you. Because even then, I was too much of a coward to take my punishment for what I’d done. Too much of a coward to get what I deserved, so I let you get hurt instead. Because that’s what I do. I always get others hurt or killed to save my own ass.” He felt his voice break, but still he kept going. “Even in the tomb, I let Khonshu save me because I was too much of a coward to do what I deserved.”
He took a breath, feeling his hands trembling as he fought the building urge to hit something. “There. You know. Happy now ?”
••••••••••••••••••••
Steven paused. He was at a loss for words. It felt like everything. It was everything. He couldn't quite- it was nothing he could quite describe. It was the moment the penny dropped. Finally, it made sense. He couldn’t imagine it, he didn’t want to imagine it. But it made sense. He could see it now, the bigger picture. Everything Marc had said, everything he’d done. It was a lot. He felt almost faint. Those blanks in his memory. Time that wasn’t Marc’s, but he still couldn’t remember. Scribbled out pages littered through his childhood, the red ink beneath that he knew only now was there.
"I-" he breathed, hands rubbing up and down the sides of his own legs in a fruitless action of self soothing. "You were a kid Marc. Just a kid." He took another moment, allowing everything to begin to sink in.
"It couldn't have been your fault because you were just a child. You don't punish a kid like that for something that wasn't their fault. What happened then doesn't make you a killer, and Khonshu's manipulation doesn't make you a coward, or selfish or- I-" he paused "I'm sorry Marc."
Steven let it hang in the air for a moment as he thought, felt through what was going on in his head. It was definitive. It was concrete. "She beat us.” His voice was flat, devoid of that sharpness that anger usually might bring. He wasn’t angry with Marc, he couldn’t be. He was devoid of himself even, the words rising from the ashes. “She was cruel. I just can't remember it, so- I've been speaking to nobody all this time. Leaving messages that aren't going to be listened to. Because our mum doesn't want anything to do with us because of some stupid accident that happened years ago." He stated, telling himself more than anything, in an attempt to process the information
••••••••••••••
Marc’s body language was incredibly telling. Stiffer than ever, there was an edge to him, but it was ragged. He was trying to harden himself- distance as usual. Pushing others away for their own safety. Sharpen himself. But it was fragile. He was shaking. There was anger and hatred clear in his face, but it was obvious from the way he was staring at the slightly reflective linoleum floor that it wasn’t aimed at anyone beside himself.
“I couldn’t save him. I couldn’t-“ he tried to take a breath, but it caught in his throat. “I never should’ve let Khonshu revive me. I should’ve just done it. I should’ve just-“ he froze when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Gentle, yet firm. He finally looked up, a softness to the face that mirrored his own. Why couldn’t he have that? He was anything but soft and it hurt .
“But...But if I had done it, I would’ve killed you. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head slightly. “So I only came out at night, when Khonshu absolutely needed me to. It should be just your life. That’s how I wanted it. How it should’ve been- I was going to just...finish what Khonshu needed and then let you have the rest. Because you- you actually deserve it.”
•••••••••••••
"Not any more than you deserve it, mate" he nodded, genuine. "you've been through this shit more than I have, at least as far as I remember. Surely that means you deserve it even more, right? Fairness and payoff and all that? Sure, you've been a bit of a dick at times but haven't we all? Nothing that deserves punishment and all that malarkey." He smiled, though a bit forced, wanting to show some sort of resolve outwardly. He hoped it might make him feel more complete. More at ease with this new reality.
Still, he wondered, what it would’ve been like if only he'd have known all of this sooner. It seemed he'd been living under a sort of shadow, sheltered from his own past, only to have a shock to the system now that he was learning of his own history.
••••••••••••
Marc crossed his arms, taking in a couple shaky breaths to ground himself. “Sure. Whatever.” It was clear in his tone that he just didn’t feel like arguing, but didn’t believe a word that Steven said.
“There’s something else....she-“ Marc took in a sharp breath, shaking his head as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. “Steven, I don’t know how to even say this, but she- she passed. Two months ago. She’s gone....I’m so sorry.”
••••••••••••
"She-" Steven's face fell. He knew now that he shouldn't be upset about it, considering what Marc had been telling him, but it was a visceral response, beyond his control. This darker side of his mum, the truth, still felt separate from the woman he’d known. Yes, she had done those things, but to him, they still existed as two different entities in his mind. When he thought about his mum passing, all he could imagine was his version of mum passing, that lovely lady who listened to what he had to say each day. The only person who’d ever given a shit about what was going on in his life, the only person who cared enough about him to know his name even. and- two months. Two months she'd been gone and Marc had let him just keep living on like nothing had happened. Two months, she’d been dead and Steven hadn’t even noticed a difference. What kind of a son doesn’t realize their own mother is dead. "Two months? She's been... she's been gone two months and you didn't think to tell me."
Steven was trying not to become frustrated with Marc again. He could see so clearly now that Marc wasn't trying to do any of this in his own self interest, but because of a lifetime of pain inflicted on him by primarily their mum- a lifetime Steven couldn't remember, nor imagine really. Still, he had a right to know that kind of thing, they were equals inside the body, so why should Marc get to know everything and he has to find out months later, if at all. "She's dead and you didn't say anything at all. You've been pretending she's alive this whole time, to what, save me the hassle? I mean, I appreciate the intention I suppose, but- so we missed the funeral and everything?"
••••••••••••••••
All the air had left Marc’s lungs. He just stood there, watching as Steven’s world began to crumble around him, all because he had removed that brick. Like some twisted game of jenga.
“At that point, you didn’t know about me. I was trying to keep it that way. Then, when our lives got blurred, every situation was so dire that- I’m sorry, but there was no time to grieve until this point. There’s no way to just break that to you when we’re trying to not die.” Marc sighed, crossing his arms.
“I was just- I was trying to protect you-“ the funeral . “I missed the funeral. Was off on a mission and didn’t know she had passed until I came back to a missed phone call from a father I hadn’t talked to in years . He wanted me to come to her Shiva. I...I went. But I got stuck across the street. I couldn’t bring myself to even walk to the door- I couldn’t. I couldn’t go back there. Couldn’t stand to hear people talk about how good and wonderful she had been. How- How she was finally at peace with Him now. I couldn’t do it. I had gotten a bit drunk to try to ease into it, but it didn’t help. It just made me empty. So I tried to bail- didn’t even make it to the end of the street before breaking down...the look of utter disappointment in your father’s eyes? The sad acceptance in his face? I couldn’t bear it. You- that was the most suddenly you’d fronted since we were kids.” He looked away, nails digging into his own palms.
•••••••••
"I fronted- I fronted outside the Shiva and I didn't even know." His gaze scattered slightly, doing his best effort to recall something, anything Marc was describing. But, he'd suddenly found himself in so many random places it was hard to differentiate. His memories were so erratic, so scattered and disjointed that he just couldn’t pull one day from the other. Hell, he barely knew what day it was in the moment, there was no chance he’d remember two months later. "I could've said hi to Dad, and- Marc, they're my family as much as they are yours." Steven was defeated. He knew, inside, that there wasn't a way Marc could've told him, but that didn't stop him from wishing that he'd known sooner. Imagining a reality where they could’ve worked together from the start. Perhaps he'd have been able to change things, change their relationship with their family. What's done was done though, and Marc had been hurt, and he, Steven, had come out of it not even knowing anything had happened. His mind had erased every bad memory, unbeknownst to him. There was an obvious winner in this situation.
"So, so you were aware of me then? You knew I existed, and you purposely kept us separate to try and protect me..." he paused, cautiously placing his hand on Marc's arm."that doesn't sound very selfish to me Marc”
•••••••••••••••
“They’re not my family.” Marc swallowed the glass that was in his throat. “They’re yours . They haven’t been mine since That Day. Our father knew. He knew about her the entire time, and yet he stood by and did nothing .” Marc let out a dark chuckle, shaking his head. “Layla was my only family, and I pushed her away too. I don’t deserve her, and both of us know it.”
He nearly pulled away when Steven touched his arm, but didn’t, only rocking back on his heels momentarily. “I’ve been aware of you since the beginning. I didn’t understand as a child, but- I knew. I started trying to protect your life when I was in my late teens. The one person I couldn’t run away from. So I just had to manipulate and lie, and- and watch you struggle with a ‘Sleeping Disorder’ so that you wouldn’t get stuck in this mess. For years. And now? All for nothing.”
•••••••••••••••••••••
Steven stood almost too still, in thought and slightly caught off guard by what Marc said, glancing away "Wait you- you've known about me since we were children? No, no that doesn't make sense, if you knew about me then why didn't I know about you? I mean all things considered, surely it would be the other way around right, or at least go both ways?" He paused, that discontented whirl returning to his stomach as looked back at Marc.
"Marc. What's behind that door that you're not telling me?" He dropped his arm back down to his side. "Those scales need to be balanced, and if you keep trying to hide things that's not going to happen, so just- let's have it alright." Glancing briefly back over at the door, he was only now reminded of its presence.
•••••••••••
Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit - “Steven, it doesn’t matter. You don’t- trust me, it’s only going to make things worse. It’ll only make it worse.” Marc was terrified . He shook his head, grabbing Steven’s shoulders to keep him in place. “You only didn’t know about me because- because that’s how DID works, yeah? The whole point of it is that you don’t know about alters until a certain point.” He lied, trying to protect- no, trying to stall.
•••••••••••••••
"No it does matter, it matters quite a lot actually because if we don't balance the scales then we're toast. Both of us." Steven squirmed out of Marc's touch, rubbing his own hands together without much thinking about it., his nerves manifesting in the movement.
"Besides, that- that doesn't even make any sense, you're an alter too, right? So, so why did you get to know about me but I didn't get to know about you? You know- it’s not much fun for me either, being constantly kept in the dark about it all. All my life I’ve just dealt with it, thinking I’ve got something wrong with me, something not even Google has the answer to. Waking up God knows where, God knows when, God knows why. I don't even know what day it is half the time, and- and I get you're trying to help but you could've just said something if you knew I was here, because I didn't, this is all brand new to me. You’ve kept my own life a secret to me, Marc, and you don’t understand how that feels. This is my life too, and we should be- we are equals in this system, so how come you can't treat me like it? I'm not a kid , Marc, I have the right to know as much as you do. You can't control everything and expect me to go along with it just because you think it’s best, because I'm just as important as you are." He paused, allowing himself the opportunity to breathe. His speaking pace had rapidly increased to the point where he could barely think about what he was saying before the words passed him by. A flurry of pent up emotion came flooding out without him even realizing. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean that, just, came out. Heat of the moment.”
•••••••••••••••••
Steven kept talking. Even as Marc’s hands went up to his ears, he just kept talking. “Steven-“ he didn’t stop. “ Steven stop -“ he just kept going on, cornering him. “ STEVEN SHUT UP!” he yelled back, panting as Steven staggered away. The room was silent. Too silent. He could barely breathe.
He’d start out slow. The room. He would tell him what happened. He had to. “She was drunk, and I lashed out- it was my birthday, and she was saying awful things. You saw that. So I slammed the table and ran out. That....that pissed her off.” He put a hand on the wall to steady himself. “I knew she was gonna come after me, so I locked the door. Tried to give myself a little time. I was terrified- she’d usually be drunk, but I knew something was different this time.” He swallowed hard, dropping eye contact. Talking about it wasn’t as bad as seeing it, but god was it still hard. “She was banging at the door, and I was- I had my first real panic attack. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Then, suddenly I was gone. Everything faded, and I was sinking- like I had stopped swimming while in the pool. I was- I was no longer there. In the room. You were, instead. You took over.....for the first time.”
•••••••••
Steven felt a pang of guilt as Marc yelled, he hadn't meant to go off like that, it had just happened. It was clear there was no malice in what Marc had been doing, so he found himself feeling quite ashamed for being so upset about it. In reality, he wasn't sure what he'd have done in Marc's situation, probably a similar thing, though he wouldn't ever be able to know for sure. Now he'd upset him again. Over something that wasn’t really his fault.
He wasn't sure what he'd wanted to hear, what he’d wanted to have happened in that room. But this wasn't it. It wasn't what he'd wanted to hear at all. All this time he'd thought- known he was the original, that Marc was the one who had appeared unannounced and changed it all. Now he was wrong again, wrong about something else, once again realizing he was living some sort of twisted lie. It was getting hard to differentiate the truth in his life from the fiction, the two blurred together into a jumbled mess inside his mind, coherent memories few and far between. First his mum, she was cruel and horrible and nothing like he knew. Then she was dead, dead for months without him even fucking knowing. Now this? It didn’t make any sense. He’d lived his entire life thinking it was just him, that maybe he had a few issues to deal with, but it was his life. If he thought his mind was broken before, it could only be worse now, as the fractured memories he did have seemed to shatter into tiny pieces, some true, some fake. Both appearing indistinguishable from each other like needles in a haystack. Thoughts whirred around his head like broken alarm clocks, chiming their distorted bells through his eardrums, unceasing. Still, all he could manage to utter was.
"So that's it. I just showed up one day. That's all there is."
•••••••••
Marc braced himself. Steven was going to yell. Steven was going to cry. Steven was going to hate him. Steven was going to panic and run. Steven was going to hit him.
Nothing.
Marc opened an eye when nothing came, and the look on the other man’s face told him everything he needed to know. The flatness. The defeat. The utter lack of emotion. Shocked. He was in shock.
Marc lowered his hands, squaring his jaw. “Hit me.” He replied in a low tone, voice almost as flat as Steven’s. When there was no response, he tapped the side of his face, above and to the left of his lips. “Right here. C’mon. Hit me .”