CHAPTER 3
A bang on the door startled them.
Marc put a finger to his lips and splayed his other hand flat out on the door.
He slowly pulled a gun from the waistband of his trousers and her breath caught at the sight.
So taken aback by seeing the mild-mannered man she knew behaving this way, she didn’t even notice or care that her robe slipped down her shoulder. She could only stare at his stance and his familiarity with the weapon in his clutch.
He departed out the door with no warning, forcing her out of her weird stupor. She rushed towards the door debating whether to open it and either help or keep lookout.
She didn't have to internally dispute this for long.
When Marc was sure the coast was clear, whoever banged on his door seemingly vanished, he went back into the flat and bolted all the locks that he had.
He placed his gun with strange reverence onto a side table and rubbed a hand down his face before turning to make sure Y/N was OK.
He pushed quickly past how his heart skipped at the sight of her. She was now in the centre of the room after stumbling back at his quick reentry, dishevelled and a trail of petals left in her wake.
If he had an artist's eye like she did, he might think that it would have made a beautiful painting.
“God this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.” Marc mumbled.
He looked into the mirror and mouthed a ‘fuck you’ at which Steven at least had the decency to look slightly guilty.
“What-“
“Do you wanna sit down?” He gestured vaguely to an office chair amongst clutter and stray literature.
He avoided her eyes.
She slowly moved to and lowered herself onto the seat, trying to preserve a bit of modesty at least. She picked at her nails and her mind raced and aimed to retain every detail of this chaos.
“So, uh, Marc, right? What,” she sighed, “was Steven, like, a fake name? An alias? You undercover?”
“You don't even know what I do.” He leant against the desk, legs crossed, hands gripping the edge of it so hard that it was turning his knuckles white.
“Was that all I was? An attempt to integrate a bit more in the local life? Or was I your target?”
“Nothing like that- wait, why would you be a target?”
“No reason, I don’t know.” She said quickly.
It was a lie; Marc stored that away for later. For now, he just hummed noncommittally.
“You ever heard of DID?” He broached.
She paused in thought for a moment but then a wave of recognition passed over her face.
“Oh, oh my God, I’m so sorry if I’ve-“
“You’re fine, you’re alright.”
"Please just, like, let me know if I say something, you know..."
He nodded unhurriedly and pouted in contemplation, unused to someone not immediately interrogating him with uncomfortable prying questions after such a confession.
She continued tentatively...
“But that, sorry, that still doesn’t explain what’s going on. Or why you tried to stop me and Steven from… well…”
“I know, I know. My job, me, Marc," he pointed to himself, "and not Steven’s or anyone else’s-“
“There’s more than just you two?”
“My job, what I do,” he continued, ignoring her interjection, “it’s not a lifestyle where I get to make or keep connections. Steven is kind of, how do I put this, separated from it all. Or at least I try to keep it that way. But obviously he gets implicated... being in here.” He waved a hand lazily up and down his body.
“You protect him?”
He nodded silently again, with a tinge of sadness in those deep, tired eyes.
She returned the gesture with a gentle smile.
“That’s good of you, Marc.”
“Y/N,” he began lowly, “I don’t know what these people want with you; they must have seen Steven interact with you at the museum. I was trying to warn him but… he’s stubborn.” At the last word, he glared into another mirror.
“I can handle myself.” She said confidently.
There was a devilish rebellion in the fixed look that she gave him as she crossed her arms. He mirrored her.
“Yeah, I saw that with the easel,” he joked, masking light suspicion, “but still… maybe get out of London for a-“
“No.”
“No?”
“I have a job. I’m not leaving because you get a bit jumpy. You don’t even know what they want with, uh, me… or if they even want me at all. Besides, I have nowhere to go...”
He stood up from where he was leaning.
“Fine! Fine… God, you and Steven really are a match made in fucking stubborn heaven, aren’t you?”
“Marc...”
“OK, what if you meet me halfway? You stay here with us until I sort it.”
“Marc, I literally live down the hall. Why can’t I stay there? I’m sure you’d hear if I got into any shit.”
“Well, for one, your doors broken.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
“Just stay here until your door’s fixed then.”
“So, until tomorrow?”
“Sure… and stick with Steven on the way to the museum and back every day.”
“Uh-huh…”
“Once this is over, though, you know, I’m only keeping you close now because it’s the only way we can keep an eye on you.”
“Uh-huh, I get it.”
"Once you're definitely safe, there must be no more-"
"Yes. Got it." She replied shortly.
He strode over to his wardrobe.
“Here, you can wear these for tonight.” He said as he threw over a grey shirt and some joggers.
She caught them one-handed and he stayed facing the closet to allow her some privacy.
Y/N brought the shirt to her nose, taking in her neighbour’s recognisable scent. It was weirdly homey.
Dropping her robe and stepping out of her sliders, she slipped the gifted clothes on.
She let him know that he could turn around and he did so. His eyes scanned over her form in a more analytical than intimate sense.
“Take the bed. I’m gonna be awake all night anyway.”
She hopped over the sand, too tired to argue but shooting him a questioning look. He responded with a half-hearted shrug.
As she pushed herself backwards on the mattress, she spotted the ankle restraint.
“Shit, that’s-“ Marc fumbled a bit until he realised that she was giggling.
“At least buy a girl a drink first.” She said through her chuckles.
He let himself chuckle too.
“Get some rest.”
“Goodnight Marc… and Steven if he can… hear me- sorry, I don’t know if that’s-“
“It’s fine,” he bit his lip to swallow his smile, “goodnight, Y/N.”
It didn’t take long until her soft snores floated around his cramped flat.
She looked so small; she looked too small, too sweet…
He remembered little details about her threats in her flat, her mischievous face when she said she could handle herself… how well she had taped up his head wound… was there something he was missing?
She was a clumsy artist, a gentle girl, tentative, kind…
“Marc, what are we doing?” Steven interrupted his trail of thought and he looked at one of his many reflections.
“Steven, you need to look after her at the museum, alright? Make sure you’re walking with her to and from your shifts. We'll be there if you need us.”
“OK, yeah, OK. I can do that. Big strong Stevie V.” He flexed and Marc grimaced.
"Thought you didn't like Stevie as a nickname."
"It's growing on me."
"Uh-huh."
He took another look at Y/N, before running down the hall to her flat to grab her an outfit and some overalls he found which he guessed she’d be needing for tomorrow.
When he returned, he put them neatly on the empty side of the bed.
He sat down at his desk and began his reading for the rest of the night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When the sun began to rise, Marc felt himself beginning to dissociate.
He closed his eyes and ducked his head as he began to switch which alter was fronting.
Breathe in, breathe out…
Steven blinked rapidly to ground himself. He looked around. He was home. That’s good.
He looked into the mirror and saw Marc tilt his head towards the bed.
Y/N.
Right, he remembered he had to look after her.
Why? He wasn’t sure… but Marc will have had his reasons.
He walked over to watch her chest slowly rise and fall… not in a creepy way.
Though, realising that it would probably seem creepy, he quickly went to get changed and left the flat to go and buy some hot drinks.
He remembered how she liked her tea from their evening together.
He looked down at the tulip petals among the sandy grains and strewn across the wooden floorboards... the colours of them tainting the monotony.
Had she ripped them up? Had he even given them to her?
He ensured his door was locked and practically ran to the nearest café.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A beam of sunlight streamed through the window as the artist awoke.
She sat up but a jingling noise made her whole body freeze.
She looked down the bed and saw the restraint that had shifted on top of the duvet and the whole night flooded back into her mind.
“Fucking hell…” She whispered.
Marc nor Steven were within the immediate vicinity causing panic to begin to bubble in her chest.
She gripped the pressure point on her wrist in attempt to fight the sudden nausea. It subsided quickly but she went to the bathroom as a precaution.
While in there, Steven returned, announcing his appearance with a flourish.
She poked her head out of the bathroom door and he grinned.
“Alright?”
“I am now.” She replied with a sigh, emerging from where she was stood to take the outstretched tea from him.
Their fingers brushed.
“Did, uh, did you sleep OK? I know it’s not the comfiest, and, ohh, the sand…”
She laughed and he admired how her nose crinkled as she did.
“It’s fine... and Marc kind of explained the-“ She walked over to pull at the chain and lock attached to the wooden post.
Steven’s eyes widened comically and he choked on his own drink.
She rushed over to pat his back, rubbing small circles on his shoulders.
They moved over and sat side by side on the edge of his bed, simultaneously sipping in comfortable silence.
He had noticed that Marc had given some of their clothes to her...
At one point they just started nudging at eachother’s feet like awkward school children with unadmitted crushes.
“You better get dressed, you. Gonna be late and being late is bad, or so I’ve heard. I wouldn't know.” He joked.
“Oh, yeah?” The corner of her mouth tugged up.
“Oh, yeah.”
He turned to stare at Gus to hide his blushing cheeks.
Y/N realised just then that there was a pre-collected and pre-prepared outfit of various shades of blue clearly gathered from her room.
“Did you go get these clothes?”
“No. I guess Marc did but I don’t know… is there, uh, is there a problem?”
“No, there’s no problem! None at all, in fact, I was just surprised he chose something so, uh, matching. It’s something I’d pick out myself.” She said whilst changing.
“You always match.” Steven replied so matter-of-fact that it made her heart pick up pace.
Not just because he’d noticed that, but Marc too.
He’d even collected her some overalls which was perfect.
She didn’t have her plans but she had her phone which she’d used to take pictures of said plans, so that was fine.
As for supplies, Pedro was having them delivered straight to the museum.
“Right, ready to go?” She asked, now dressed.
“Yup, yes, yeah, lemme just grab my, uh, there we go, my bag. OK let’s go.” He opened the door, fiddling with his bag strap.
Y/N picked up her phone, keys and overalls.
As she walked past Steven, who was stood in the doorway, she couldn’t resist straightening his stuck-up collar.
Her hands may or may not have grazed the nape of his neck as she retracted them.
He may or may not have had to repress a shudder.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The bus was crowded, bodies packed tightly together.
Her back was up against his chest.
They were both trying not to think about how it felt.
Ignorance is bliss...
Except when the bus stopped causing everyone to jolt. He wrapped his arm around her waist; his other grabbed the handle dangling from the ceiling to keep them both from falling.
He kept his hand splayed across her stomach for the rest of the drive.
His hot breath fanned the back of her neck.
She wasn’t sure if it meant anything to him but her head was absolutely reeling.
Little did she know, throughout the whole rest of the journey, Steven was having an existential crisis as to whether he should let go or not.
It took him so long to decide that they reached their stop.
He guided her out with his hand now placed onto her lower back, obviously just so she knew he was still there.
He was supposed to be looking out for her after all....
When they began to walk away from the bus and towards the museum, she couldn’t help but feel a slight uneasiness deep in her chest... like they were being watched.
She whipped around like she'd be able to catch someone out. Unfortunately, she couldn’t pinpoint where that damn feeling was coming from.
So, she ignored it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It got to the end of the day.
The pair had been kept so busy that they barely had a moment together.
They did take their lunch break together, though, sitting on the steps out the front, side-by-side, just enjoying the sunshine.
Y/N began packing up while Steven collected his things from his locker.
“What a good start you are making.” Someone unfamiliar remarked from behind her but she didn't react.
People had been making light conversation all day.
“Sorry?” The painter replied, turning around while wiping her hands on a rogue cloth.
The stranger grinned manically.
"My, my..."