Marc sniffled through the stuffiness in his nose defiantly, becoming increasingly overstimulated with each attempt. Splashes of murky water darkened his new converse. Mom would be angry with him for that. His eyes flew to his feet and as a result he tripped over a neglected branch the storm brought on. A loud slap could be heard when his small body hit the ground. The yarmulke atop his head also hit the sodden sidewalk below. Blood trickled from Marc's knees but he disregarded the blooming pain, standing with shivers running down his neck.
He felt that familiar presence at the forefront of his consciousness; to which he replied," No! No! I have to run away, Mom is going to hurt me if I don't."
Marc shook his head and whimpered, the intrusion in his mind becoming more and more apparent. His head was pounding, swooning. Everything in him was telling him to submit, to let go, his vision blurring around the edges with the rain. He couldn't understand what was happening in those days. The blackouts had left him on curbs and flat on his back at playgrounds. Every time danger presented itself to the child's body, there were what could only be described as " presences" with him.
A hand came up to smack his head, a measly attempt from Marc to get a grip on himself. He took a step forward then whipped his head back. No sign of mom chasing him with her bottle raised anymore. The looming threat of danger subsided, he recognized this area. He was well into the neighborhood now. The heavy rain sprayed the trees and his clothes, his legs only just now feeling the burn of sprinting out of his home.
The crack of bones below him made him lift his sneaker off the sidewalk, hopping away into the grass. The crushed skull of a raven lie there, a symbol of hope to one of them but not to Marc. He sobbed and sobbed, his heart in his throat. After sitting with himself, shivering and sniffling, a voice not unlike his own called out," Marc?"
The scared little boy immediately jumped into go mode again, scanning the area. It had to be Mom. No one else talked to him in such a nurturing voice. She was going to sweet talk him, take him home, and never let him leave. He would be hurt again. Ready to run into the woods in the back of his neighborhood, Marc heard the voice in his ear," Marc I know somewhere , give me your legs!"
" What are you talking about? I won't!" Marc reached for his yarmulke and saw him.
What looked to be his face was not his face, it looked back at him with a stare that was far older and wiser than his own. The boy in the puddle's eyes were blown wide and his eyebrows were furrowed with sadness. They made eye contact.
" You're going to get us both sick if you don't listen to me! Let me help us!"
Marc could feel his senses dimming, the rain pattering on his back, his world spinning before his very eyes. If he blacked out, mom was certain to find him. She would do anything to hurt him again. He let out a hefty sob feeling absolutely hopeless. The hallucinations were terrifying.
" I won't let mom know where we are, now give me our legs! Hurry!" Marc recognized the voice he used to put on for his little brother, the memory comforting him. He remembered the good times, sinking into the thickness of their mind without much resistance after that.
Steven carried the three of them to the edge of the forest where an old tree house lay cooped up in the tangle of untamed trees. Steven had discovered it when on a search for a hideout from mom a few months prior. After the funeral, he felt an unknown force guiding him through the forest. He searched and searched, repeating in his mind " Someone help us. I need a fortress to keep us safe. Please. " Steven put a hand on his chest as if to reference the other two souls that lie in his core.
His prayer was answered, a moonlit path materialized before his tiny feet, to which he traveled. The first time he climbed up, the roof had been damaged and leaves littered the wooden floor. With a few weeks of work he managed to repair the tree house.
He grunted whilst climbing the rope he held onto while his feet were grounded against the trunk of the tree. He chucked himself through the doorway covered by fabric and marveled at his sanctuary. He had been communing with what he called " The moonlight that covers the fields" in this place. To the far back, where the largest wall was, a collection of drawings of the moon sat covered in wax from stolen candles. Books cluttered the already small space, but provided insulation. Mom was mad at him for stealing, but he didn't care. Only the best for the moonlight. He gave Steven, Marc, and their other friend this sanctuary safe away from harm. The least he deserved was a pretty candle, Steven had concluded.
After somewhat drying himself off giving a small " brr!" noise while grabbing his box of matches. He lit the offering candles sat atop a bucket and the additional ones he had around the small room.
" Right!" His high pitched yet booming English accent reverberated through the wooden room. " This should keep you warm, Marc"
Absentmindedly, he rubbed his chest and smiled to himself before taking a seat in front of his handmade altar. His legs felt rough and cold, the silhouette of the moon shined through the blanket blocking a hole in the rooftop. Something beyond himself told him to look under the bucket. He scooted forward on his haunches and lifted it, a blanket appearing from the darkness underneath. Perfect! He thought to himself. It was draped across himself before he settled down again in the corner.
" Goodnight everyone, I'll see you soon.." He yawned, the darkness of the forest draping over the boys and their tree house.
-
-
Steven tapped his pencil against the thin paper of his sketchbook, drawing the eraser up to poke at his teeth without thought. He referenced the moon in the sky for his drawing, head lifting then dropping repeatedly to capture the image. He was much older than he appeared, having protected and endured for many a years. The cold night air blew into his flat through the open window, giving him a breath of fresh air. The statue of the lord of the moon he kept in the corner of the windowsill trembled with the increased wind speed. The herbs and dried fruit along the windowsill also trembled in their place.
"Bloody- ugh the app said no wind out tonight." He glared in the direction of the window, as if to glare at the wind itself or whatever was causing it. He grumbled to himself, placing his sketchbook down with the unfinished man in the moon sketch. The books around him that were paperback sang in the tune of flipping pages as the wind thrashed through his apartment when he came close to the window.
There was that burning feeling in the back of his mind, the one that peered at him from all directions. All knowing. Steven knew the drill. It was the same routine he had kept since they were children. Since Steven was first born. Leaving the room only to come back with a glass of milk, he took his glasses off his collar. The eccentric man pulled a crumpled prayer paper from inside a nearby book and adjusted his glasses to recite it. Both of his hands raises to show adoration to the moon. It's light peered in, bright and all encompassing as he recited the hymn he created for the moon.
In these moments he felt true peace. Being able to provide for his body and mind in any way was fulfilling to Steven but to have his moon's guidance was even more calming. He relied on it, he knew that above all that the moon would protect him, Marc, and his friend who he has come to learn is named Jake. Reference to a name from antiquity was made, alongside references to the people in his head. He asked for protection and peace to those that weren't him. He asked for clarity.
Steven bowed after the ritualistic recitation and placed the milk on the window sill, lighting the candles around himself. The tall window before him ceased to produce anymore strong winds that would bother him after the offering was made. Steven took that as a sign that he had satiated his protector for the time being. After gently dropping to his knees, Steven picked up a mirror.
He hoped calling out this bluntly would work, he could feel this disrupted flow of energy under his skin. Something was wrong with one of them and Steven knew the feeling all too well. Jake and Marc succumbed all too quickly to shoving down their feelings until the very moment they left the forefront. Steven could always feel it, nauseatingly there and itching at his insides. He rubbed his chest and straightened the mirror before himself. His eyes felt as though they were being held down by weights, lack of sleep making his gaze clouded.
" Marc.." He said quietly, more to himself; he watched the way his lips formed the name, spacing out.
" Jake? Are you two okay?"
No response. He dropped the mirror to his side with a defeated sigh. It was no use, the two of them knew better than to deal with the pain themselves, leaving Steven to be their shield. He rubbed at the burning in his core and a breeze started up again, tickling his nose. Steven stood up with a surprising lack of motivation and snuffed out the candles. A final thanks was given to the moon and the window was sealed, curtain drawn. The moon peered through the fabric, spying in.
He picked up the glass of almond milk, knowing better than to waste food, let alone an offering. He downed it in a few swift swigs, exhaling as he felt it settle.
" Steven.." Marc's voice bubbled up, much different than Steven's more peppy tone. It was barely above a whisper and Steven was there immediately.
" Marc! Are you okay, i could feel something was wrong but i didn't wanna pry and I could feel the moon's presence so much more tonight so i figured that-" he spoke loudly to the air in front of him, setting the glass down promptly.
Marc interrupted him, speaking louder than before but still with fear in his heart. In their heart.
" Steven there's something I haven't told you. " Marc's tone shifted and he continued talking, making Steven listen.
" Yeah, Marc?"
" Y'know how you talk to the moon sometimes?"
Steven nodded in agreement and waited patiently for the stream of words to continue.
He could feel Marc in his head looking around, he imagined Marc as scared as he used to get when they were children, frowning. Steven stalled, blinking, giving Marc the space to talk. Marc got up his courage and Steven could almost feel a hand against his ear as if to keep his message to Steven secret.
" I, I've made a deal with someone, something, fuck-" Marc's voice broke and Steven jumped into action again.
" Hey hey don't worry about it, I'm sure we can sort it out, we always have." He lead their body over to the couch and draped a blanket around his shared shoulders. Tears welled up in Steven's eyes when Marc continued to tell his secret, as if they were leaking through the wall that separated their individual emotions.
" It is ancient, I think. He told me what he could give me and why he would do it. " Tears streamed down their face.
" He saved my life and I'm indebted to him, I-I" He chose to leave out specific details, Steven didn't need to worry even more than he already did. He continued to stutter through his thoughts and mumble. Marc was working himself up to the point of extracting a shared sob from the body. Steven did his best to get a grip on himself, reminding over and over again that these weren't his feelings.
" Okay woah woah woah. Are we talking like ghost type stuff , Marc? Or? " Steven stated through hiccups, wanting clarification.
" His name is Khonsu, and he called me his Moon Knight." Marc's crying fit continued as Steven was brought back to his room. He remembered looking out his window and praying to the moonlight. He had felt the moon whistling to him, calling to him. The flashback continued until he was sucked into the moment of it.
" You do not know my meaning or why. But you shall bring my vengeance. You shall become my Moon Knight!" The voice hammered in Marc's skull enough for Steven to come fully to the front. He recalls the fear he felt in his heart and the goosebumps on his legs. Steven went to bed that night rubbing his cheek and shushing the invisible boy inside himself.
Steven came back into the moment and he was still crying. Tissue was retrieved and wiped along his under eyes, more tears threatening to fall in their wake each time he wiped them. It was like this for half an hour more. Steven hushing and comforting Marc until their body couldn't cry anymore.
Steven could tell that even if they weren't crying anymore, Marc held a hurt deep inside them that cut them like glass. Steven stood gently carrying them across the flat and back over to the altar area. He unscrewed the latch holding the window shut and let it fly open with the wind. He needed to do something or else Marc wouldn't be okay.
" What are you doing.." Steven turned to see Marc standing in the mirror hitched up against a pole in the window's view. He stood with stiff limbs, denying his emotions despite the fear weighing them towards the Earth's core. Steven smiled and grabbed an object he had managed to keep Marc mostly unaware of despite its rather blunt appearance. It was a milky white glass bong that he used frequently in his daily practice. The plant packed into its bowl was something Steven had always considered sacred ever since they were teenagers. Marc was no stranger to weed but always for numbing purposes, never as medicine.
" Won't you get in trouble for that kinda stuff here? You making us live in an apartment and all.." Marc jabbed but Steven could tell he was visibly relaxing at the idea of being high already.
" Well.. I mean yeah if you say it all loud like that, but no if we blow it out the window and only take a few hits. Whaddaya say?" Steven's accent could calm a lion, Marc could feel what he was crying about fade into the recesses of their mind as they exchanged banter.
Marc hadn't tried smoking since he left home. He had stayed at a friend's place those first few weeks, smoking himself into a consistent dissociative state. Steven managed to break them out of it, still giving their anxious body the medicine but more controlled. It really helped Steven to be able to get to sleep and stay asleep, along with helping him calmly process his trauma the best he could.
Steven took note of his lack of experience and guided their hands to the lighter, grasping it and sparking a corner piece. The bud burned red until that section was grey and black and Steven removed the piece, exhaling the smoke out the window. The relief was immediate and they both sank into the feeling that weed provided them. It was rare to get peace inside their head so when they did get it, it was something to be grateful for.
" Wanna try hitting it this time? Then maybe we can go to sleep." Marc nodded their head and took control of the body's hands, Steven feeling them go numb on his end. They moved to take a large hit from the bowl, inhaling it to fast. Marc sputtered and coughed his lungs out, the noise making those on the streets below scream back.
Marc was confrontational and flipped a few of them off, feeling the intense wave of calm wash over him, his skin no longer on fire. He came fully to the front and Steven looked at him through the mirror.
" You can sleep in my bed if you'd like. I know it isn't the floor or something hard like how you like but you're welcome to it. I have a shift tomorrow so I'd honestly like to get to sleep in my own bed." Marc nodded and pulled the window shut, flashes of how to shut and lock it flashing behind his eyes. Someone else's memory. Not his own. Marc looked through the drape up at the moonlight, remembering the horrific events he had undergone in the past month. He did his best to keep Steven out of the whole ordeal during it and succeeded. But he couldn't lie to him now.
Marc got the body to the bed, pushing a few stacks of books off of it onto the sand below. Steven reminded him to touch up the sand and he obeyed, flopping onto the bed after putting his shackle on his ankle.
" Goodnight Marc.. Good night Moon..." He said more to himself, then remembered his extensive research into Egyptian lore and their pantheon. He remembered the oh so familiar name that Marc cried out.
" Goodnight, Khonsu." Steven tested, his high building steadily as his heavy eyes now swollen from crying were having trouble staying open.
" Good night, boy."
-
-
The rocking of his surroundings made Jake sick to his stomach. His breath only drew out a few inches before hid face and the dark dank enclosure smelled of stone. He didn't expect his first time coming out in a while to lead him inside of- whatever he was inside of. The stone smelled earthen and the darkness was infinite.
The feeling of being confined was adequate for him, reoccurring. Ever present was the slow hum and throb of the boat he was unknowingly on. The clanking of various medical items in far off rooms rang out like music. Jake made an effort to try and move his limbs, but they were bound by heavy layers of shouds, pulling them into one frozen pose.
He prayed in his head to the deity he recognized from his childhood. The bones he collected behind his mother's back. The bird in the trees. Wise traveler and revealing lord of all things hidden. It wasn't exactly in the fashion that Steven prayed in. It rang out more like a cursing demand. He knew the old bird had made a pact with Marc and therefore he owed it to Jake to save him.
But when he called out the name " Khons" in his head there was no presence that could be felt within the matter around him.
He began to sweat, thrashing in his confinements, the feeling of isolation and fear rushing through his veins. His mouth opened to scream but nothing fell out. The acknowledgement of his fate came soon after he discovered his lack of voice. He gave in to his darkest fears, he was never going to get out. He couldn't feel Steven or Marc's presences in his body. He was worthless.
Ever since the beginning he was nothing without the two of them. Jake felt his body become the darkness, convinced he was nothing without his counterparts.
Dissociating heavily, Jake let his eyes gaze into the black and into the cold, the silence around him deafening.
" Jake!!"
Jake's head perked up as much as he could manage in the small space and he screamed silently, thrashing with all his might to alert the invisible voice. He knew that voice. It was Steven.
" Jake where are you?" Another one the same distance from him rang out along side Steven's. Jake felt the hope seep back into his heart, the top of his sarcophagus shaking and rattling.
" Jake we're coming!" Footsteps were getting closer now.
Jake choked on his vocal chords, chest alight with pain and he heard the sound of a door hitting the wall. Marc directed Steven to one side of the structure as he chose his own side. Jake's eyes twitched as he saw the outline of fingers instead of darkness. The two identical men heaved to get the top off, when it came loose it swiftly clattered to the white untouched floor. It exploded into a million pieces, the dust in the air smelled better than the stone.
Jake's vision went white then he saw two version's of his body in front of him tangibly. How was this possible? They were talking fast.
" I know right!" Steven spoke first as if he could read Jake's confused and scared expression. This was the one that Khons favored the most. Not even Marc could receive such adoration from the god. He practically was glowing like the moon.
" I couldn't believe it either, we all are separated." He smiled at Jake and Marc stood beside him, familiar gaze meeting Jake's own. They understood each other a bit more on a personal level.
" Where are we.." Jake spoke up, surprised to hear his voice, mustache brushing the bottom of his nostrils.
" Well.." Steven stepped forward, taking Jake's hand with care and placing another hand on his chest, applying pressure. Jake felt himself actually relax under the man's touch, leaning forward, his anxiety he tried so hard to push down bubbled up and he began to shake.
" Jake-" Marc started, a hand reaching up into the air.
Steven pulled him into a hug maybe even tighter than the one he pulled Marc into upon his initial discovery. He felt so much compassion for them both. He had been watching over then all their lives, but only just now did he really connect with Jake.
" You're scared." Jake's eyes popped open.
" You're scared of being left behind.." Both Marc and Jake went stiff and Steven pulled back, hands on Jake's shoulders, grounding him.
" Neither one of us are gonna let that happen." Marc jumped in, the look on his face was that of pain, Steven's words having hit harder than they should've. They had all been aware of each other before but never like the connection that was shared between them in that room. Marc stepped forward as well, hand on Jake's shoulder.
Jake looked up at them through drenched eyelashes, deep eye bags reflecting on Steven and Marc's faces as well.
" Now c'mon! We don't have much time -" Steven went to leave the room, checking outside of it to make sure no guards were chasing them.
Jake felt his stomach drop. He didn't know how to say that he was still scared. He didn't want to be too much, he didn't know if he deserved the help. The focus. He didn't want to leave.
As if Marc had told him telepathically to turn around, Steven turned to face Jake once more when Marc stared at the back of his head.
" Take my hand, we'll do it together. Khonsu shall protect us" He held out his right hand, outstretching it wide. Marc scoffed at the comment about the bird, also outstretching his hand.
Jake looked at them both, steadily stepping around the stone on the floor, He grabbed their hands with strength unknown to both of them that left them wondering how strong Jake truly was. The three of them left the room with newfound courage in each other and in themselves because of Steven. They found that when he was near, they could feel no fear. Even in the underworld.