Chapter 3
“Okay bud, lets just run this over one last time - Bloody hell Marc, we’ve already gone over it, like, a billion times! You know very well what happened! I was behind the bar, organizing the liquor - I’ve told you so many times that you don’t need to do that, no one cares about the order - shut it! It’s soothing! Anyway, I was just getting to the Ts when this big burly man walks in, and starts causing a ruckus. Says somethin’ about me bopping his mate in the nose, before BAM! I’m outside!”
They let out a low grunt. Times where the two truly shared the body were rare for a multitude of reasons. For one, it was taxing. Flipping back and forth with the flick of a switch took work, especially when Steven was as frantic as he was. Pushing was always involved, and there was only so much their already fucked up brain could take. The other main reason spawned from how intimate such a state tended to be. When one or the other was in a reflection, it was different. They were an outside observer, distanced enough from the other alter to where they could both breath if they wanted to. When sharing, however, any space was nonexistent. The lines between who was doing what blurred, and certain things like bodily movements became one. Things like breathing, blinking, adjusting, it was neither Steven nor Marc. Only them.
No matter how many times they’d practiced it, the state never ceased to leave Marc stiff in the joints. “And they mentioned something about your accent, right? You said they commented on it?”
He nodded, lowering his head for another sip of his glass. It’d been over an hour since they’d gotten home from the incident in the alley, and Steven still wasn’t sure who’d been the one to grab the bottle of brandy tucked under their bed. It was tempting to shrug it off as all Marc, but after finding his hands coated in blood for the first time in weeks, it was difficult to say for certain. “Yeah, somethin’ about how ‘an accent won’t save you’, or something stupid like that.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t wake up for that. I mean, if there ever was a trigger, getting threatened on the job feels like one for me. – I mean, it triggered someone. I’m assuming whoever it was knew a why we were getting threats in the first place.”
That didn’t make the lingering guilt any less potent. On most occasions where violence was necessary, that’s where he came in. That’s where Steven was supposed to go to sleep, and wake up without ever realizing the dark shit that had gone down to keep them safe. Since imprisoning Ammit this concern had faded somewhat, but it never truly disappeared. Steven wasn’t meant to see that side, and even if neither of them had full control over when they were awake, it still felt like a failure only being alerted once the blood had been shed.
They readjusted themselves. “Oh god, what if the other alter is a full on serial killer? For all we know, our body could be causing mayhem on a nightly basis! – That wouldn’t make sense. – It’s Tuesday Marc, Tuesday. We missed an entire day yesterday, one where apparently the alter decided to come into the pub and give the bloke from tonight a shiner. Who knows what the else the fella could be doin’. – Well, whoever he is, he has to serve a purpose. There has to be a reason we’re starting to see him.”
Marc could tell for certain it was him this time who’d made the move to down the rest of their glass with one hard toss. The empty drink was slammed on the table, and the rest of the bottle was soon swiped up by its neck. To his surprise though, Marc found themselves swaying to get out of their chair. The unsteadiness only lasted a few seconds before balance was soon regained, but it’d been jarring nonetheless. He hadn’t even realized they’d drunk enough to warrant that sort of reaction. “Where we goin’ Steven?”
Steven didn’t respond. The man simply strolled into the bathroom and took his place in front of the mirror. A bit unnecessary, since there’d been a mirror pretty close to where they’d been sitting, but he figured now wasn’t the best time. Their eyes narrowed.
“Hey, who the f are you?
Silence and a still reflection.
“Steven, this is stupid. – Quit it, you don’t know that. Hey, prick, we know you’re in there. Why the hell did you beat those guys’ friend?”
More silence, and the longer the little ‘argument’ went on, the more embarrassing it became just watching it. After almost a solid minute of a one-sided bickering match, Marc finally sunk back into the reflection with a sigh. The sudden sobriety only brought more attention to how nice it was otherwise. “Steven, listen-”
“Holy shit, Marc, you see! He is listening-!”
“Nope buddy, still me.”
“Oh bullocks.” Steven huffed, whole body dropping into an almost childish slouch. It was the kind of response that Marc wished he could ease with a hug. His expression softened. “Hey, it’ll be okay. We’re going to work this out. We defeated Ammit for Christ’s sakes; we can conquer this.”
“And what about those guys?” Steven muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. “How do we know that while we’re working this shit out, he won’t be out hurting more people?”
He fell silent. There really was no guarantee. For all they knew, this mystery persona could be out doing things every night. That’s what he’d done back when the brit started fronting longer and longer. Sleep was just about the only time neither of them could protect themselves. Steven must have expected the response, because a weak chuckle broke the tension. “We’re really somethin’, aren’t we?”
A fond smile formed on Marc’s lips. It was hard to believe after all the shit they’d gone through, the brit was still too optimistic to say ‘batshit crazy’. He still didn’t know if Steven censored himself just for him, or if he truly believed it was just- ‘something’. “Yeah, we are.”
“Now, if you’re done getting’ yur point across, mind getting back in here? I mean, I know you’re still technically in here, but-”
Their vision flickered, and before Steven could even finish his sentence, they were already walking back into the living room. Marc brought the full bottle up to his lips. “Yeah, I know what you mean buddy.”
Marc subtly took over after that. Not fully, he could still feel Steven’s breath caught in his throat, but the brit seemed content to let him take over most of the body’s general functions for the next hour or so. By the time 2 am came around he found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. An empty bottle of brandy layed still on the floor bellow them, and most of the concerns from earlier had numbed themselves down into content haze. He would have passed out then and there, if it weren’t for the sudden tug from his arm. Marc whined, not even bothering to look at his independent limb.
“Stevie, what’re you doin? – Mhm, I have an idea. Get up. – No, go to bed. We do ideas in the mornin’. – We’re not ‘n bed, we’re in uh chair. Now let’s go, upsidaisy~”
Much to Marc’s dismay, they were soon brought into an upright position. With no idea of what they were even supposed to be doing, Steven did most of the heavy lifting carrying them over to the kitchen table. After some mildly frustrating shuffling, he eventually managed to find themselves a random sheet of paper and a marker. He quickly began to scribble.
“Stevie, what’s the point in – shut it, I can’t focus if we’re talkin’.”
Marc relented, and against his better judgement, Steven continued to scribble down whatever he found so important that they needed to do it now. When the time finally came, the alter stabbed the paper a few more times, before finally turning themselves back towards the bed.
“I lied and said you said hi by the way – I literally couldn’ care less.”
The two flopped down face first into the bed.
“G’night Steven – Night Marc.”
~★✡★~
The next morning came with a piercing sensation Marc, and Steven by default, knew very well. One that didn’t cease to hurt like a mother fucker no matter how many times he’d woken up like this.
He was reluctant to bring himself out of bed at all, and he likely wouldn’t have if it weren’t for the nagging voice from across the room.
“Marc. Marc, we gotta get up big guy.”
The American mumbled into his pillow, reluctantly opening his eyes. The lights were a little too bright to make out any real details, but it wasn’t hard to decipher the eager reflection staring back at him on the bed side table. “Well, that’s kind of cheating, isn’t it?”
“Hey, its you’re day technically. You’d do the same.”
He wasn’t wrong. That didn’t make Marc any less annoyed to see Steven getting off their night scott free. He likely would have stayed put for the next several hours, if it weren’t for the forceful yank upwards. Marc groaned, covering his eyes. “Fuck, fine. I’m up. What are you sooo excited for anyway?”
“Check the table.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
Marc sighed, but with the gracefulness of a shot dog he slowly dragged himself over to the kitchen table. Nothing overly out of place at first glance. The set up had already been a mess of bills anyway, so it would have been impossible to notice any light shuffling. He scratched his chest. “See anything?”
“Grab the tax form, the one with giant writing on it.”
Oh great, there was work they’d have to redo later. He picked up the sheet and squinted to make out the sloppy handwriting he’d grown to recognize as Steven’s.
Dear whover you ar,
Hello! Im Steven. It’s nice to met you!
We share a body, DID as its called. Hopfully yu know about that by now, oherwise you’r in for a reel surpise! I’d love to talk to you more, and figue out what you want. Plese don’t hurt people.
Hope to here from you soon! Cheeers!
Also, Marc says hi :)
Marc snickered. Well, that was something. He scanned the page for anything else that could have been added as a response, but in the end he found nothing. “Nothing bud, sorry. Nice try though. A poorly done try, but still something.”
“You try writing a formal letter when you’re absolutely pissed.” Steven huffed, shaking his head. “No, no, there has to be something else. I can feel it. Check the back.”
Marc wanted to argue, but he knew by now Steven wasn’t going to relent until every page on the table was thoroughly checked. With a reluctant sigh he flipped over the sheet. His eyes widened.
“Wait, no, it couldn’t have actually worked-”
Deer asshats
I know who u guys r, and I sware if I wake up to puke because of yoy shitshows 1 more time, I’m throwing us off a fuckin tower
Fuck u -Jl