He’s tired, so very tired. Sometimes he feels like he’s always been this way, and maybe he has. He’s tired of everything, of a god always hovering over his shoulder like a demented demon yelling about how worthless he is, of how he has to obey him to repay his debt; of his job of killing people; of keeping secrets from everyone, even himself; of staying awake, of going to sleep, of Layla, always in danger with him, from him, and even from his God.
Layla...his guilt eats away at him every time he looks at her. Every touch from her, every kindness burns him like coals being shoved into his heart. It’s like a penance. When he stares at her at night he whispers in the confines of his mind, “Yes, it’s me that did it. I was there; it’s my fault your father died, my fault you cried yourself to sleep tonight while trying to hide it from me. I’m sorry, so sorry.” It’s always his fault. His fractured family, his shattered self, Layla’s broken heart. Everything broken, trashed, gutted… And then there’s Steven, his better half, one of the few things in his life worth staying alive for, maybe the only thing. Lovable and pitiable he’s someone he has to protect. The bright shinning moon in his dark dim night, the part of himself that he keeps safe and clean from all the dirty ugliness that permeates his world.
He’d do anything to keep him away from it all and happy. Even going so far as to write postcards to Steven while pretending to be his own mother. It hurts but it’s worth it. He had to travel the world for his job as an avenging Avatar, and he’d always pick up a postcard and then send it back to Steven’s apartment after completing a job. Imagining Steven’s smiling face as he read it cleansed his mind and soothed his weary soul. He could just see him happily putting it up on his fish tank with all the others. What was that fish’s name anyways? Guts, Gus, yes Gus, the one-finned wonder. Marc could feel his lips start to curl up in a smile that soon fled as he heard a scoff from Khonshu. He knows he’s insane, ridiculous, and beyond pathetic. He doesn’t need Khonshu to remind him. He closes his tired eyes and sighs. How could he forget the feeling of blood on his hands for even a moment? He clutches the pen tightly and finishes the card with the same PS that he always did…
In a while crocodile ☺. All my love, Mum.