Out of The Frying Pan
Steven held on for dear life, hugging Marc ever more tightly as he heard that sheer outpouring of pain leave his chest. It stung, it killed him to know that it was his fault too. He had gone against the fundamentals of his entire existence, and Marc had to pay the price. It wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Steven wouldn't allow himself to feel bad about leaving, because all in all, he had not suffered the worst of the two of them in any way. He didn't feel he had any right to complain. All he could do now was what he was best at.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it'll be okay, that's the worst of it. You'll be okay." He nodded, holding Marc close "You did it. I'm so proud of you, Marc."
•••••••••
Marc fell forward onto his knees, still holding onto Steven’s forearms as every bit of emotion ripped from his throat. It was as if his soul was leaving him, lost to the sands of time.
Breathe in. They had to do this. Breathe out. Shove it down. Breathe in. Snap out of it. Breathe out. Forget the sun. Breathe in. Wipe tears. Breathe out. Stand up. Breathe in. Cracking knuckles. Breathe out. Fight. Breathe in. Survive.
When he looked back at Steven, there was a grim determination in his eyes, his expression having reverted back to his usual scowl. However, there was something vulnerable that lied just behind the icy wall. “Gate. Now.”
•••••••••••••••
It was more than horrible. It was worse than words could describe. It was as if the hurt was leaving his own throat. His tightened, his breathing shifted, it was too much. He couldn't stand seeing Marc like this, it was tearing him apart in a way he had never even dreamed could be possible. It was worse than the most horrific nightmare, but this was real. He had done this, and now he had to listen, had to watch a man fall apart before his eyes, knowing that it was his fault entirely.
He tilted his head back, sniffling for a moment, but suppressing the urge to allow it to go any further. This was not his place to be upset. Then, he felt the atmosphere shift around him. Without even looking, he knew something had changed. A switch had flipped and the air thickened and became colder. Steven looked back at Marc to see what looked to be a wholly different person. The same one he met before- but- no it wasn't- he had changed. No, it was certain, what they had been through hadn't been lost on him. That-
Before he could even fully clock what had happened, they were on the move "yep, sounds good- wouldn't wanna get caught by the sand- oh okay let's just-" he made haste towards the gate, no time to think. It was going to be weird to be back in the same body wasn't it?
•••••••••••
Marc practically dragged Steven along with him as he made his way briskly toward the gates that were slowly swinging open, a bright light washing over the dark desert. As stark a contrast his joy had been, the noticeability of his shutting down was double. His mouth was a thin line as he trudged on, focused and steady.
They reached it in under a minute, the sand barely shifting under their feet. They had a minute left. Marc turned toward Steven, taking in a slow breath as he tried to take in being face to face with him for the last time. That physical comfort would no longer be present, and it was heart wrenching, but they had reached an understanding. It would be different between them now, but not having him by his side was going to be incredibly painful, and both of them knew it.
“Thank you, Steven. For everything.”
He didn’t hesitate this time as he stepped forward, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Steven’s head. It was such a simple act of brotherly love, yet it spoke volumes. When he stepped back, there was a shine to his eyes, especially as Steven launched into one last hug. “I’ll....yeah. I’ll miss this.”
•••••••••••••
So many cuts were still sore, still open, and this was just the sprinkling of salt he needed to feel them sting all over again. He didn't want to be upset, it wasn't his place. Nonetheless, he was. Seeing Marc like this again was brutal beyond belief; the moment he thought the walls had been broken down, Steven had only gone and given him the cement to rebuild. The progress undone in one blow. He kept up the pace. It was the least he could do.
The gate was truly something, beyond anything Steven had read described in books. Still, he couldn't bring himself to enjoy it as he dreamed he would. It had cost too much. He looked back at Marc and just knew that he had to be thinking the same thing. Steven hadn't really had anyone to be close to, the best he had was the street performers where he lived... who never really spoke back to him.And his mum. and now he was going to lose Marc. Well, not really, they'd still be close- even closer than they were now, but it wouldn’t be the same. They would never get to be like this again until that final day came, and he could only hope that it wouldn't be any time soon.
It was too much, that gesture of genuine care. He wasn’t expecting it, not now. Not after everything he’d done. He thought the time for that was over. Steven was so glad to be wrong. They didn't have enough time, he was left wishing they'd stayed just a little longer, just a few more minutes perhaps to indulge in it all. His eyes dampened slightly as he gave in to instinct, wrapping his arms around Marc just one last time. He wasn’t crying, no, he didn't want to waste his last moments like that. Still, a solitary tear emerged from his eyes, squeezed shut on Marc's shoulder.
"Thank you for imagining me"
The rumbling of the sands came closer, but still, the moment couldn’t last long enough, and for it to be over so soon was painful. It couldn't end, not now, not yet. He didn’t even want to consider the possibility that they would be different on the other side, unable to talk like they could here. He only tightened his grip, scared to let go. "Glad I finally met you, Marc. Be with you on the other side. Promise."
•••••••••••••
The sand shifted around their feet as an immeasurably tall wave of sand rose up behind them. Running out of time.
Marc could feel his feet become heavy, sticking to the sand. Numbing. Cold. While the field of reeds had kept him immobile with prosperity, there was an edge of dread to this. They had to leave. They were out of time. Out of time.
“Promise.”
Without letting go, Marc closed his eyes and let himself fall through the gate’s opening.