Fractures

The weeks passed and with them, the last vestiges of the fall season. Rain turned to snow and snow turned to ice. It was your favorite season, and you were excited to spend your time doing cozy activities with Steven and Marc.

Tonight was great. 

You and Steven had come home from your jobs and taken the time to make dinner together. After dinner, Steven had let Marc front to help you with the dishes and get set up with a movie and some spiced hot cocoa. 

It was as you were cuddled up to Marc’s side and the movie drew to a close that you felt the dread curling in his stomach. You’d be going to bed soon, and so far you hadn’t had a single night of uninterrupted sleep all week. 

The guilt you felt every night for waking your boyfriend up was palpable. You felt like a child, young and dumb enough to wake up screaming like your dreams were real. Even though, in your case, they were. 

Marc wiggled himself out from your grasp with a huff and began to clear away your dishes and trash. You sat glued to the couch, staring at the dark television screen. When your boyfriend came back to see you still sitting on the couch, he frowned. 

“Come on, baby. Let’s go to bed, it’s late,” he prompted you, holding out a hand. You only shook your head. 

“I’m gonna stay here tonight. You and Steven must be exhausted from me waking you up every night.” You tried to give your voice a lighter tone, and even smiled a little. But even you could hear your own fatigue. 

“Well, if you have a nightmare out here, do you think I won’t come to check on you? Either we both sleep out here or we both sleep in our bed, babe. You can pick.” 

Marc smirked because he already knew your choice before you even took his hand. Despite how often you slept on the couch, you would never let him do the same. Or gods forbid he came and slept in the arm chair beside the couch. His sleep would never be restful enough and you didn’t want him to ruin his back. You didn’t seem to care as much about your own back or lack of sleep, like you thought of your own health as second to that of your boyfriends’. 

You followed Marc into the bedroom hesitantly. You knew that you’d probably wake up screaming again, and you knew that you were probably going to wake up the neighbors, too. You’d been starting to get dirty looks whenever you saw the other people on your floor in the hallway going to and from work. 

The sheets were a bit cold when you slid into bed, so you immediately cuddled up to Marc’s side. He was laying on his back, so you turned onto your side and laid your head on his chest. Despite his slow and steady heartbeat in your ear, you found you couldn’t even begin to feel sleepy enough. 

“Goodnight, baby. I love you,” Marc whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I love you, too. Goodnight.”

You both laid in silence for over half an hour before Marc spoke again. 

“Steven and I are really worried, you know,” he said quietly. You tensed and blinked your eyes open in the dark. The only source of light in the flat was the lights on Gus 2.0’s tank. 

“Marc…” you mumbled in warning. 

“Please, just hear me out, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” He asked gently. You frowned, but nodded against his chest. 

“I know you feel like you can’t talk to anyone, but you need to listen to me. I don’t know what happened, but I do know that something so awful happened to you that you still have nightmares about it. I know what that’s like.” He paused and took a long breath. Your head moved up and down with his breathing and you could almost pretend like it was the lull of ocean waves. 

“Before I met you, I did some pretty terrible things. Things that used to give me night terrors. And it took a lot of convincing, but eventually I ended up going to see a therapist. I had the chance to sort a lot of shit out, with the help of someone whose job it is to help people sort their shit out. And now I only get nightmares every once in a while.”

“So going to therapy is just going to magically fix me?” You grumbled. 

“Oh hell no,” Marc snorted, resting a hand on your shoulder and gently stroking his thumb over the fabric of your shirt. “It’s not a miracle cure, baby. And I’m not even saying that you’ll be better after just a session or two. But over time as you work through some things, I think you’ll find that you’ll get more sleep, and maybe you won’t be so scared of whatever it is that has you so anxious when we go out.”

“I don’t think that’s possible,” you mumbled, your chest tight. Marc had no idea, because you hadn’t told him of course. It didn’t feel like you could do any of those things, not when you still had nightmares of him— on you, in you. Sometimes you could feel his rough touch, on your thighs, your hips— feel the sharp pain between your legs. 

You struggled to imagine a life where it didn’t overwhelm you so easily. Where you were equipped to handle such phantom pains and senses. It would be so peaceful. And you hadn’t known peace since that day. 

“You might not think so now, but you won’t know for sure until you try it,” Marc insisted. 

You both lapsed into silence again, the sound of cars passing by on the street below and the water filter on Gus’ tank the only sounds in the dark flat. 

“Just think about it for me, alright? I love you and I want you to be happy,” Marc added eventually. 

You twisted a little in his hold to look up at him with a stern gaze. 

“I am happy. I love being with you and Steven,” you assured him. Marc smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. You reached a hand up and ran your fingers through his curls, tugging at his roots a little just the way he liked. 

“Thriving, then. I want you to thrive. And whatever it is you’re carrying around with you, I can’t tell that it’s starting to get heavy. Maybe it’s about time you let someone help you. It doesn’t make you weak, I promise.” 

“How could you possibly know that? I haven’t told you anything,” you found yourself asking, a tremble to your voice. His choice of words had set your mind to running. All you had felt since that day was weakness. It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been so weak. If you had been stronger, maybe you could have defended yourself.

“Because you’re the strongest person I know.” Marc sounded so sure of himself, so certain, in that moment. 

The tears took you by surprise as you looked away from him. All you could do was shake your head and press your forehead into Marc’s chest, your fingers twisting the fabric of his sleep jumper. 

“Oh, baby, I know. I know you don’t believe me now, but it’s true. I don’t know who made you feel like you weren’t, but they were wrong.”

It took all the energy you had to silence yourself, to keep the embarrassing noises to a minimum as you cried into his chest. You don’t know how long you stayed like that— Marc holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world while you fell apart in his arms. 

In the end, you cried yourself to sleep, your energy drained and your body finally gave up. Marc didn’t mind. He only shifted you slightly to make sure that you were fully covered by the blanket again. 

If he hadn’t been as worried before, he sure as hell was now. What had happened to make you dissolve into tears over him telling you that you were strong and loved? 

He and Steven had a lot to talk about. They couldn’t let you continue on like this.