In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lover's past
Until a new one comes along
Marc Spector drew a long drag of his cigarette. He wasn’t one to smoke, but today was a special occasion. A terrifying occasion. It was the first time he was meeting Layla since their battle with Harrow 2 weeks ago, despite Steven’s goding to call her. He couldn’t do it. Now that Marc was free of Khonshu, he knew technically Layla was safe, but he had also massively fucked up with her. They never really talked about what happened, not yet. That’s what today was about. Marc was waiting outside the park for her to arrive. He was painfully early. An hour early, to be exact. He couldn’t sleep, so he went for coffee which only gave him anxiety. He tried to walk around, but found he just wanted to get to the park and wait. So he did. He was waiting. Marc had no idea what he was going to say.
I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense
He knew what he wanted. He wanted her. He didn’t know if she wanted him, and that terrified him. Marc wasn’t sure if he could take the rejection. Steven had assured him that no matter what happened with Layla, Steven would still be there as always. Steven really was a saving grace. Steven had promised that he would leave the consciousness to give them privacy, but Marc was now wishing that Steven had stayed, maybe Steven could take over, he was better with his words. More patient, more thoughtful, more observant. Steven was everything Marc wasn’t. That was part of the problem, wasn’t it? Layla had kissed Steven. Did Layla want Steven, but not him? Marc had promised that he would stay away from Steven forever if he wanted… Steven had insisted that he didn’t want that, but Marc wasn’t so sure. Why would Steven want him around? What did Marc offer Steven? ‘ Everything you touch you ruin. You hurt people’ Steven also had insisted that nothing would happen with him and Layla that Marc wasn’t comfortable with, but what Marc was comfortable with had never exactly been put into much consideration.
And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes and so it goes
And so will you soon, I suppose
Marc, for the last few decades, had tried his best to ignore every need he had. He wouldn’t eat for days, he would live off of alcohol, and purposefully make choices that would fuck up his life just to punish himself. That is, until Steven happened. He had been there for a long time, of course, but when Steven began having a life of his own, Marc felt this urge to protect him. Marc wasn’t stupid. He realized that this was a projection of his feelings over his brother's death. That was obvious. But as much as he hated the heavy handed metaphor he was given, he needed to take care of Steven. Marc thought Steven should hate him. Everyone hated him. He was an asshole. Steven didn’t know what was best for him, that’s for sure. Marc was used to everything he had being ripped from him. There was Randall, of course. The event that was the catalyst of it all. Randall was his best friend, and he died, thanks for Marc being reckless. Then his mom. Marc ruined that too. In his actions with his brother, he lost his mom forever. The mom he knew anyway. Even his dad was lost, what kind of father doesn’t protect his son? Once Marc lost respect for his dad, his dad was largely gone for him. Layla had stuck around longer than most, and Marc had managed to push her away as well. How could he explain to her how badly he wanted her in his life? The general concept of what he wanted to say was in his head, but the words wouldn’t come.
But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break
Logically, he knew that Randall’s death wasn’t his fault. Logically, he knew he didn’t deserve his mothers abuse and he knew that he should’ve been worth his fathers protection. At least as a child, anyway. Less so now, but as a child he was. He knew it logically. But there was a gut feeling, deep down that he deserved it all. And that gut feeling told him that he didn’t deserve Layla. She deserved to be happy, with a man who could pay attention to her, a man that knew her needs and fulfilled them, a man that wasn’t broken. She deserved to have loving in-laws and have children with dotting grandparents. This was not a life he could give her. Even now, however, there was a voice in his head. Not Steven, not Khonshu, and whoever the fuck else was in his fucked up brain. It was Layla’s voice. The voice of reason. The voice telling him oh fuck off, Marc. Stop the self pity, just for once. You can make your own choices. Own up to your actions and only your actions. No one else’s. She was always there, in the back of his head, telling him that he was wrong when he felt guilt and telling him he was correct when he felt anger. Layla, with her softness on the rare occasion Marc left himself feel sadness. Layla, telling him to cut his bullshit out when he was acting up. So that’s what he was doing. He was going to at least try to get her back. Say his piece, at the very minimum.
And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows
Layla, with her softness. Her soft, soft skin… He missed feeling that skin. Her arms, her stomach, her breasts, lower, lower… He missed the feeling of taking her everywhere possible: On their bed, in the shower, the kitchen counter, backseat of the car, front seat of the car, hood of the car . That car saw a lot of damage. Fuck, she was perfect. Her big, beautiful hair, her eyes that seem to look past every single barrier, her ass, her tight- concentrate Marc, you gotta think about what to say. Think about how to get her to stay. Definitely don’t think about the night she gave you a striptease for your birthday, the way she looked in that red lingerie, they way she slide up and down your- fuck. It wasn’t just about the sex, but god was the sex great. It was a cliche, but if sex could be earth shattering, thats what sex with Layla was. But it wasn’t just about the things she could do, it was how she made him feel. The sex wasn’t just amazing because of way she would arch her body to meet him, or the sounds she would make, it was amazing because Marc was able to fully let go. He could trust her. With Layla, Marc could be his most vulnerable. It wasn’t like Marc didn’t have sex with anyone before Layla. Oooooh no. He had that department covered. But it was never like it was with her. For years, Marc couldn’t put his finger on why the sex was so different. It wasn’t like anything was wrong with the other girls. The sex was good, they were pretty, they were nice. He might have had feelings here and there. But Layla saw him for everything he was. Broken, angry, harsh. But she also saw and brought out sides of him he didn’t think even existed. Protective, loving, determined. What could he say to make her think of him that way again?
So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break
He hoped that she still saw those traits in him. He hoped to god she still saw things in himself that he couldn’t believe were there. Things that he wanted so, so bad to be. For her. For Steven. Ah, Steven. What if she saw those things in him? Steven was warm, kind, smart, and thoughtful. And looked just like Marc. Marc was not a confident man in most things, but he knew he was good looking. And jacked. Now there were positive traits he could list about himself. Fuck, better add vain to the list of negetive traits. What if Layla wanted Steven not him? He would leave them be, he would have to. Marc finds it very difficult to say his feelings, that much was obvious. But Steven was the best part of him ‘ you were the only real super power I ever had’ . That stood true. But Layla? She wasn’t his super power, no, she didn’t exist for him. That was the thing. She was a solely autonomous person. Marc knew what he had to say. He didn’t need to convince her to come back, he didn’t need to talk his way in or out of anything. He needed to be honest. He would lay it all out on the table and let her make her choice. It was completely her choice, not his. He needed to give up control. God, just for once. Give up control. He saw her approach. Half an hour early, just like him. He knew she’d be here early, because he knew she’d known he’d be there early, like he was for everything. She smiled at him. He wanted to run. He wanted to persuade her. But no, this was about her… this was her choice. And god, he hoped she chose him.
And so it goes and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows