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linkspooky · 24 days

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Megumi Will Start the Merger Theory

You heard me. I know this sounds wild and out of left field, but it's just a theory. A Jujutsu Kaisen theory. I fully acknowledge it might not happen, but please stick around long enough for me to argue why I think Megumi's character may go in this direction.

This one is for all the Megumi corruption arc truthers out there. I came up with this theory when it became clear that saving Megumi from Sukuna's grasp was going to be more difficult than just giving him a motivational speech, or punching Sukuna until their souls separated. Furthermore, I believe that Jujutsu Kaisen's manga won't end with the defeat of Sukuna. There will be one more curve ball thrown at us by Gege in the late game, and this is me trying to anticipate the pitch before the baseball hits me in the face. Underneath the cut I will speculate on the direction that Gege may take Megumi's arc, the relationship between Sukuna and Megumi, and Yuji's role in the finale.

What is a Corruption Arc?

Before digging in too deep I want to explain what I mean when I say I'm a Megumi corruption arc truther. A character arc is a story arc in regards to a character where a character changes from beginning to end. That's the most basic definition, arcs can be more complex, some arcs are actually inversions of the standard character arc where a character is defined by his lack of change.

However, those still need some element change, sometimes characters around them change to show contrast. For example, Eren is a stagnant character from beginning to end in Attack on Titan, but characters like Mikasa, Armin, Jean all grow up to show by comparison how little Eren has grown. Sometimes circumstances change around a character, and their lack of growth is a failure to adapt to those circumstances.

A character arc requires a change, but it's not necessarily a positive change. Often called negative character development, these characters regress instead of grow. This happens in many ways. One of the most basic examples of a character arc is a want / need arc. A want / need arc shows an emotional hole in the protagonist's life that needs repairing and how resolving the plot allows them to fill that hole. The protagonist usually knows what they need, but they know what they want, and often what they want won't actually fix them.

For example if I'm feeling sad I want to eat donuts to lift my mood, but what I need to do is learn healthier ways to work through my negative emotions. A character who keeps pursuing what they want, instead of realizing what they need won't grow, that's negative character development.

That's just one example though, Gege gave us a blueprint for a corruption arc in Hidden Inventory.

In Yu Yu Hakusho the character Sensui (directly cited by Gege as his inspiration for Geto in an interview) once was a spirit detective like the protagonist. No one describes him as corrupt from the beginning, in fact he's constantly described as more pure and upstanding than delinquent Yusuke Urameshi who likes getting into fights. He has a strong sense of justice, but rigid black and white views that come with it. Once he's confronted with evidence that directly contradicts his demons bad, humans good paradigm he cannot cope, and the narrative all but states Sensui's purity traditionally a good trait corrupted him because of his inability to adapt and his rigidity in in his beliefs.

Sensui goes through a corruption arc, albeit one offscreen and mainly referred to in backstory.

Geto's happens onscreen in its own story arc where he is one of two main characters. Much like Sensui he's presented to us as a sorcerer like Gojo, but unlike Gojo he believes sorcerers are obligated by duty to protect non-sorcerers who have no way of fighting against curses. You could argue that in some ways Geto and Gojo are the same type of jerk, but Geto's principles are clearly set up to contrast Gojo who at that age only was a sorcerer to flex his abilities. Geto's friendship often has him lecturing Gojo about respecting others, paying special attention to Gojo's feelings in ways that other characters don't, and also not being afraid to clash with Gojo over differences in morals.

If Geto is corrupt from the beginning there's no arc there, so he's clearly set up as being the moral fiber to contrast Gojo. We are literally presented with a scene where Gojo admits he could kill the non-sorcerers who hired a bounty hunter to assasinate Riko and feel nothing, and relies on Geto to make a moral judgement in his place, that society will already punish them and their slaughter is pointless.

The irony is that later, Geto will engage in pointless slaughter killing an entire town in retribution for their abuse of Nanako and Mimiko. When Gojo confronts him about his actions, Gojo cites the same reasoning that Geto provided him to stop him from killing the cult members.

That Geto's murder of innocent civilians is pointless, because it won't achieve anything - his world of sorcerers is out of reach. Geto's clearly positioned as Gojo's moral tether, because he cites Geto's statement of only killing when there's meaning to it right back at him.

This is also where the corruption part of his corruption arc comes in, a change has taken place here. Geto hypocritically contradicts his earlier words, not just engaging in meaningless slaughter but also punishing people with his own hands instead of letting the justice systems in place take care of the punishments. Two things he held Gojo back from doing, only to do himself post corruption arc.

You could cite many things as the reason for Geto's corruption arc, but the common theme shared with Sensui is resistance to change. Geto saw the world in two distinct categories strong / weak, the same way Sensui saw humans good / demons bad. When Geto is shown that weak people are capable of bonding together to oppress strong people (the cult) and that sorcerers despite having strength are on the losing end of their society (they are expected to risk their lives and toil endlessly for curses 99% of the population can't even see), he cannot cope.

He especially cannot cope with the reality that Rika's death showed him, that he is not strong as he once believed. All of this combined leads Geto to double down, still seeing strong and weak as separate categories but now blaming normal citizens for the inherent corruption inside the Jujutsu World. Notice how Gojo a character with positive development seeks to reform from inside the Jujutsu World instead.

Geto also still wants to think of himself in the strong category, rather than facing the feelings that Riko's death and his helplessness in that moment gave him, as well as Gojo pulling he instead decides to double down on the idea that he's in the strong category, that he's superior.

Geto even remarks jealousy at Gojo's godlike power for the first time, when before this he's always been the only person to treat Gojo as an equal - because Geto doubling down on his superiority complex begins imagining himself above others and therefore untouchable by trauma. It's also a grab for agency, because in this world sorcerers are rather agenciless, forced to be cogs in an unfair system. Geto incorrectly assumes agency = power. If he possessed Gojo's power he would be able to grab his agency back (which is simply incorrect because Gojo is one of the most agenciless characters in the manga, defined by his rigid role as the lynchpin of society).

Geto also doesn't mature. A mature adult lives in the world, and accepts that the world is imperfect. Geto is remarked as childish, first by Shoko when they are smoking together "sulking because no one understands you... sounds awfully childish if you ask me", and then by Yuta "You think you're a god? You sound like a kid!"

So we have, refusal to grow up, refusal to adapt to a complex world, resistance to grief, and grabbing for agency and power instead of fixing an issue inside himself - all of these combine to make the Jenga Tower that is Geto Suguru collapse.

The central question of Geto's arc, spoken by Gojo to Yaga is "Is it possible to save someone who doesn't want to be saved?"

If Geto refuses all help, refuses to admit that he's wrong, and does not want to change then what really can Gojo do in this situation? Was he right to give up? Did he give up too early, refusing to kill Geto but also spending ten years just ignoring the problem until Geto attacked in Jujutsu Kaisen Zero? Did it not matter what Gojo did because ultimately Geto's choices are his own?

There's no clear answer, because it's a question the author is asking the audience to ponder. It's also a question directly set up for Megumi to answer, because when Gojo is unable to do a thing for Geto we see his next action is to seek out Megumi. His words imply that he sees Megumi in Geto and advises him not to be left behind, he also clearly became a teacher in order to not let what happened between him and Geto repeat in the next generation.

In spit of Gojo's best intentions, he's not able to protect Megumi from any of Sukuna's designs toward him, or basically anything that happens in post Shibuya's. Simply raising Megumi to be strong, did not prevent him from suffering trauma in his youth on Geto's level.

There's even a deliberate parallel, they both witness the death of an innocent who they promised to protect (Tsumiki, Riko Amanai) and they both have had their body taken from them, Geto's corpse is turned into a literal puppet to help advance Kenjaku's plans, Sukuna steals Megumi's body in order to revive himself in the modern era. They're both even used as tools against Gojo, Kenjaku uses Geto's body to awaken memories in Gojo and complete the sealing. Sukuna uses Mahoraga to learn the world splitting slash that cuts through Gojo's defenses.

Megumi also has a set of values that society spits in the face of. Megumi wishes to selfishly protect his sister, and pick and choose who to save. Geto believes the strong are obligated to protect the weak. Geto sees weak people who are corrupt and not worthy of his protection and also the reality that sorcerers are the exploited class, Megumi is forced to kill Tsumiki with his own hands.

These are intentional narrative parallels to show the risk of Megumi may walk the same path as Geto, especially since Megumi is in many ways a pure child like Geto himself.

Dark Phoenix Arc

There's one more corruption arc I want to compare Megumi's too, to give some idea of where I expect Megumi's arc to lead.

The Dark Phoenix Saga commonly refers to the story in Uncanny X-Men #129 - 138 of Jean Grey’s corruption by the power of the Phoenix and the Hellfire Club. It was considered incredibly shocking for its time. One thing to note is while Jean Grey is famous nowadays, in early X-Men she was the weakest character and her role was basically limited to “The Woman” of the team.

Elevating the helpless damsel woman to the most powerful member of the team, if not the entire universe and then having her turn evil had never been done before. It was a jaw-dropping shock at the time.

The reason I am citing the Dark Phoenix arc as an example, is because both Jean Grey and Megumi's character arc revolves around themes of agency, how it's stolen from them and how they reclaim it.

The basic summary of the Phoenix arc is that Jean Grey is initially given a massive power boost when she's possessed by the Phoenix. She stays behind on a crashing ship only to be saved by the Phoenix, a guardian, alien entity of immense power that was locked away in a crystal. Jean Grey returns as Phoenix with a massive power boost, but there's several ambiguous elements that compromise her agency. It's implied that Jean Grey always had a tremendous power that was in part sealed away by Professor Xavier using his telepathy (infringing on her agency) and that while the Phoenix gifted Jean Grey power, it's also an alien entity effecting her mind and body.

On top of that when she acquires the power, outside forces begin wanting to manipulate Jean in order to gain her power for their own ends.

A group called the Hellfire club begin to psychically tamper with her mind. They trap her in hallucination world where she is a woman of the 1800s, (not famously known for their agency) and in love with the leader of the Hellfire Club, even going so far as to give her false memories in order to convince her that this is reality.

The concept of agency and how it's constantly infringed upon, even by someone who's supposed to be on her side (Xavier) is central to this arc. Jean evetually escapes from the Hellfire club's manipulation, and reclaims her bodily autonomy but the story does not end there.

The subtle changes in Jean's behavior still continue, even after Jean has freed herself from the mind control. Is this the result of being given too much power at once? Is Jean losing control because she was never taught to properly handle her powers?

Jean Grey is also the character with the strongest potential in the main cast (much like Megumi) and also a character who's been prevented from using her powers to their full potential and even had her powers stolen and used by others (Much like Megumi).

It's heavily important that Jean's corruption into dark phoenix happens after freeing herself, and in response to the Hellfire club's machination to take all agency away from her. Jean instead makes a grab for power and agency by abusing her power as Dark Phoenix.

Jean even mentions that turning against her friends and trying to kill them as Dark Phoenix, will sever the last tie holding her back, will get of Jean Grey for good and cause her to fully embrace being Phoenix.

Jean has flipped entirely, overembracing the power and agency that has been stolen from her again and again, but really how could someone not desperately try to take back control of their lives after being mind controlled or having their mind violated multiple times (the phoenix itself, the hellfire club, even by Xavier).

How can someone never allowed to use her power, or given choices on how to use her power, not be corrupted when after being stepped on all of their lives the power of a god is dropped into their lap?

This is why I believe Megumi will be the one to initiate the merger, because his entire arc has been about having his power stolen away from him and what would Megumi do when given total power over the merger by Kenjaku?

Megumi Corruption Theory

The biggest piece of evidence for this theory is right here, Kenjaku specifically says to give Megumi Fushiguro the authority to start the merger.

There's a technical reason for this, Sukuna is currently in Megumi's body, and Sukuna himself was actually registered in Yuji's place because Yuji was built by Kenjaku to be a cage for Sukuna.

However, it can also be read as foreshadowing. If you believe like I do that the merger has to happen, then Sukuna can't be the one to initiate it. The simple reason why is that the main characters will have to be alive to fight against a merger, and Sukuna has set the condition that he'll start the merger after killing the main cast in order to motivate them to fight him with everything they have.

If Sukuna is going to start the merger after killing all the main characters, then he can't be the one to start the merger because the main characters have to be alive to witness the merger take place and fight against it somehow.

Therefore, logically if the merger is going to occur the only person who could possibly activate it is Megumi Fushiguro after reclaiming his body.

There's more foreshadowing then this one instance however, and a lot of it revolves around Sukuna and Megumi's unique relationship and Sukuna's role as a character.

As for why Megumi would possibly start out the merger, it's the same as Jean Grey, a character denied of agency suddenly has all the power in his hands, who wouldn't be corrupted? Especially Megumi, a character who's just been robbed of his sister and his mentor, and his purpose in life besides that (protecting Tsumiki)? Why wouldn't he lash out if suddenly given the power to? His friends are trying to save him yes, but Megumi is begging those save friends not to save him to end it all.

How do you save someone who isn't prepared to be saved?

How is the story going to answer that question, if saving Megumi is a matter as simple as just beating up Sukuna and giving his body back to him?

Onto analyzing more foreshadowing, but first a brief tangent on the nature of foreshadowing in Jujutsu Kaisen. Every major twist in the manga is foreshadowed far in advance. Kenjaku beng the one to possess Geto's body - foreshadowed by Kenjaku killing Mechamaru when Geto was against killing young sorcerers, and the fact Geto was deliberately killed onscreen with no explanation provided to the audience on how he could possibly revive.

Sukuna calls the purpose of the bath to be near evil, to submerge Megumi's soul.

If saving Megumi is just a matter of ridding him of Sukuna's possession however, then how does that allow Megumi to reclaim his agency? What agency does a damsel in distress who just exists to be rescued have?

Megumi's entire arc has been defined by the potential power that everyone sees in him, and his inability to reach that power especailly since other characters (especially Sukuna) seek to steal that power for their own ends. In the culmination of this arc, Sukuna literally steals Megumi's body, and his bodily agency.

How does Megumi finally live up to that potential if Megumi's arc ends with him being saved by Yuji? How does this make Megumi grow or change in any way?

Sensui, who is once again Gege's model of a corruption arc is referred to as a pure angel that was inevitably grew scarred and defiled, by his close personal confidant Itsuki. Not only that, but sinking deep into despair made him grow stronger not weaker.

Itsuki is also, a demon who met and encountered Sensui and then took a deeply invested perosnal interest in watching Sensui be corrupted in real time.

Megumi also has a curse that took a sole interest in him because of his talent and potential, then had a hand in bringing him closer to evil in order to make him sink into despair. There's once again the symbolism of purity being corrupted.

This panel explicitly shows white lilies (symbols of purity) being torn apart and blackened to symbolize what Sukuna wishes to do to Megumi in order to further is own ends.

There's also the heavy budhist symbolism with Sukuna's role in the story, and the way he influences the rest of the cast, especially Gojo Satoru who is our stand-in for the Budha. If the goal of Jujutsu Society is to attain enlightenment (escape cursed energy probably the only thing that will end the miserable lives of sorcerers), then the merger represents the opposite, Kenjaku's goal of optimizing cursed energy by mixing humans, sorcerers and curses to give birth to a new being.

That's also a conflict that needs to be resolved, but Sukuna by pushing forward the optimizing of cursed energy and representing the peak of sorcery living only for sorcerery and his own strength represents a Mara.

Sukuna is comparable to the Celestial Demon Mara in budhist mythology, more on it in this thread. In budhist cosmology, Mara is the “personification of the forces antagonistic to enlightenment.”

If the ultimate goal of budhism is to escape the cycle entirely and stop being reborn in the sensuous realm, Maara instead tempts people to stay in this realm. it defines impernanence by suggesting we stay in this realm forever. It defies Dukha by saying we indulge in physical pleasures in this realm, that we should seek to satisfy ourselves even if budhism argues that life is primarily unsatisfactory.

We even see Sukuna literally tempt a budha-like figure into remaining in this earthly realm. After all aren’t we shown that Gojo achieved enlightenment at seventeen and let go of earthly emotions like the need to be angry and avenge Riko’s killer because the feeling of oneness with existence was too good in that moment.

A lot of people noticed what they thought was Gojo acting out of character in the fight with him and Sukuna, by enjoying the fight and choosing his selfish desire to love jujutsu and fight as a sorcerer over his responsibiltiy to protect children. Something which Nanami says in his dying hallucination that Gojo only ever lived for the pursuit of his selfish desire for Jujutsu in the first place.

Gojo in his last fight against Sukuna forgets about saving Megumi or at least makes it a lesser priority, because Sukuna tempts him to do what he's always wanted to go all out in a sorcery fight and have the freedom to use his powers to the best of his ability. Hoewever, even after using his full strength, Sukuna cuts down the notion that he is above humanity and drags him back to the earth - literally calling him unenlightened.

“This is goodbye. You were born in an era without me and hailed as the strongest yet you turned out to be painfully ordinary…”

Does Sukuna not represent this temptation for all characters? Sukuna represents the selfish ideal of sorcerers, using his powers for himself to satisfy his hedonistic desires and because of this he has the most agency in the story and the story at times even bends to his desires.

Characters even fight for Sukuna's recognition, Hajime, Jogo and Gojo are validated by that same recognition in theend.

Why wouldn't Gojo and more importantly Megumi who are characters with very little agency not jump at the chance to be more like Sukuna, especially if it brings Sukuna the freedom he possesses?

Itsuki refers to himself as Senseui's shadows, leading him to act on his darkest impulses and enjoying watching the corruption spread. Megumi is literally a character who's Jujutsu revolves around his shadow, and summoning powerful Shikigami from it in order to fight. A character with an incomplete domain expansion (another loose plot thread with Megumi that would be unresolved if Megumi were simply saved) which is his own creation, which might surpass Mahoraga the technique handed to him.

In addition to being a Mara, Sukuna is also literally called the "fallen / disgraced one". Itsuki calls Sensui a fallen agel, but in the context of Jujutsu Kaisen there's literally a character called Angel, who's only goal is to save Megumi's soul, and there is a satan figure in Sukuna who wants to corrupt him. Literally, there's an angel and devil on Megumi's shoulder.

How is stealing Megumi's body corruption though? Megumi's not being tempted into being selfish. He's not responsible for any of the sins that Sukuna commits in his body. There's no arc there, because Megumi doesn't reclaim his agency in response to having it stolen away, he doesn't decide to do the bad things himself - it's Sukuna who commits the wrongs.

Even More Setup for the End Game

Here's where I stop referencing Yu Yu Hakusho and only use foreshadowing in the comic itself. The first is the discussion of roles, and how Yuji needs to break away from them, as much as Megumi needs to fight for his agency back.

Part of the reason Sukuna jumped bodies is because Yuji wanted to be given an easy role like a character in a story - rather than thinking and deciding for himself. He thanks Megumi and Gojo for giving him a role seconds before the body swap happens. If Yuji is immediately punished for thinking that what he needs is to be a cog in the machine, to be given a role then methinks that's a bad thing.

However, Yuji has not broken away from that thinking in any significant way. Sukuna even mocks him for finally being given a role.

If Yuji's thinking hasn't changed then no story arc has taken place. If this conflict of Yuji wanting to conform to a cog or a role has persisted since Shibuya - then it's clearly important to his arc and is something that needs to be resolved. If Yuji just solves the problem by being stronger than Sukuna and beating him in a fight, how does that resolve Yuji's flaw of clinging to roles rather than thinking for himself? I ask once again, where's the change?

Saving Megumi like a damsel in distress is still a role someone else has assigned him.

How does the decision to save Megumi right now challenge Yuji's hero complex in any way, besides the fact that Megumi has sunk into despair and would rather just end it all. Is that much a conflict that really forces Yuji to think for himself - to go against the grain of society rather than blindly following others.

If Yuji gets to rescue Megumi like a damsel, that's giving him what he wants, without forcing him to realize what he needs. That's as much of an unfullfilling end to Yuji's arc as a ending where Megumi never reclaims his agency and stands on his own feet and just has to sit there and wait and be passively saved.

Most of all the question: "Is it possible to save someone who's not prepared to be saved?" goes unanswered.

Geto wasn't just depressed and suicidal, he was actively making harmful choices and represented a danger to others. He also had no intention of stopping the path that he was on.

There's a clear parallel between Megumi and Yuji's friendship, and Geto and Gojo's past fallout. However, if it's just a conflict of Yuji saving Megumi who's simply too suicidal and doesn't want to go on living, there's no conflict there. The audience will not see whether or not Gojo was still capable of saving Geto post his burning down the village, or if there was no walking back from that choice. The previous generation won't resolve or fix the mistakes of the past generation.

Yuji remains a hero, Megumi remains a victim, as I reiterate for the thousandth time there's no change.

Megumi starting the merger, or even defeating Sukuna himself (maybe with a completed domain expansion) and then starting the merger is a change. It's also foreshadowed, Mahoraga is the technique he inherited, the technique Sukuna stole (and Mahoraga won't work against him he's already defeated it), Megumi's domain expansion is his own creation, created in his deepest moment of personal growth.

The process of individuation also literally requires a character fully integrating their shadow. Sukuna possessing Megumi is not Megumi facing his shadow or his worst traits, because Sukuna is not Megumi's shadow, he doesn't reflect Megumi's flaws in anyway, he's literally just a parasite.

There's also the 1001 Toji parallels to Megumi that have gone unfulfilled. Toji specifically a character who was abused, then chose to continue the cycle of abuse, specifically because he wanted to prove himself stronger than the peak of sorcery. Especially after a lifetime of being belittled and abused by not having the potential of his Heavenly Restriction recognized.

And what do we have here, but a scene of Toji LITERALLY EMERGING FROM MEGUMI'S SHADOW, in order to enter Dagon's domain.

How is Toji referred to afterwards? As a puppet of carnage bearing his fangs at the strongest around.

An incredibly Sukuna like description, number one because Sukuna's entire existence is simply bearing his fangs at the strongest around, and number two Sukuna is referred to as pure destruction, like a calamity, something with overhwelming sense of self and no humanity.

Not only that, but when fighting Sukuna, Gojo makes an explicit reference to Toji comparing him to Sukuna as the last time he ever felt nervous or challenged by an enemy. Sukuna and Toji are being alligned as similiar characters, supremely selfish people who hoard their agency and strength. Toji also represents the worst of Megumi, a victim caught in a perpetual cycle of lashing out against the world, a bad future path he might take if he doesn't get over himself.

Sukuna is connected to Toji wo is connected to Gojo, and all three represent a path that Megumi has been nudged down his entire life, that he should just selfishly use his power with no regards to anyone else the same way they do.

As I said before in my comparison to Jean, why wouldn't someone who's been robbed of all agency for so long, not go too far in reclaiming it? What's stopping them now that the chains are finally off?

Megumi parallels Geto, who parallels Toji, who parallels Sukuna and why draw all these lines between these characters if it's not to represent a path that Megumi could take?

In other words...

#megumi fushiguro #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #geto suguru #fushiguro megumi #gojo satoru #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen theory #jujutsu kaisen spoilers

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astroboots · 2 years

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RED FLAGS ║ PART 5

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Pairing: Steven Grant x female reader x Marc Spector

Summary: You try to befriend Marc with mixed results. Or alternatively: God this man is cranky.

Word Count: 7080

Series Masterlist | Astroboot's Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss' Masterlist

[PREVIOUS] - [NEXT]

The thing about vanishing off the surface of the earth is that even if the missing person themselves doesn’t notice, people around them will.

We live in a society where we’re all accountable to someone or something. Your landlord will want the rent paid at the end of month. Your parents will ring to moan about you not calling them often enough. Your boss is going to send chaser emails asking for progress reports. A person cannot just disappear for a week, reappear and expect nothing to come of it. There are always going to be repercussions.

So it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when Steven stands before you, looking absolutely gutted as he tells you that his supervisor has assigned him the worst possible schedule. He’ll have the unenviable honour of manning the gift shop every Saturday and Sunday for the rest of the month, and on top of that he’ll be on the second shift most weekdays where he’ll be stuck unboxing inaccurate ancient Egypt souvenirs late into the night.

“I’m sorry, love.” Steven looks down at the ground, then back up at you, all contrite apology and puppy-dog eyes. “I tried talking to Donna about it, but she just threatened me with more inventory. Not sure why she’s got it in for me, but it’s been worse than ever this last week.”

You hum sympathetically, though you’ve got a pretty good idea of why his supervisor might be hacked off—missing a whole week of work can’t have endeared him to anyone at the museum.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry that I’ve gone and messed things up again.” He looks like a sad puppy in a rescue video, disappointment and remorse colouring his features.

“You haven’t messed anything up,” you reassure him, reaching over to touch his arm. “You don’t have control over your schedule. Besides, we can still spend the nights together, even if we can’t laze about together in the morning. And maybe you can ask Donna nicely to switch you back to your old schedule when you have your performance review at the beginning of next month?”

He gives you a small nod, but he still looks like the world is ending. It’s frustrating and painful to watch him struggle with the consequences of a disappearance he knows nothing about and couldn’t control. Having his body arbitrarily borrowed and spirited away is hardly something he planned just to spite his supervisor. Not that you could tell her that (or Steven for that matter).

“We’ll have plenty more weekends together.” You slide your hand up his arm until you can cup the back of his neck and pull him close, resting your forehead against his. "Not going anywhere, remember?"

You hope it’s the truth.

Steven smiles a bit at that, and warmth blooms in your chest. All you want is to make him feel better.

“Maybe I can phone in sick tomorrow?” you offer up as a consolation prize, “Skive off work so we can have a proper lazy morning together.”

His eyes light up like a Christmas tree at your suggestion. “That’d be amazing!” he enthuses, then hesitates. “But are you sure you can do that? I don’t want you to get in trouble for chucking a sickie on my account.”

“It should be alright. I haven’t taken a sick day for years, I can afford to do so now so long as we don’t make a habit of it. One day shouldn’t cause too much trouble.”

You’re wrong about that.

The situation in Steven's flat the next morning proves as much.

You’ve never understood the expression cooking up a storm, but there’s no other words to describe the way Steven Grant lays waste to the kitchen.

It’s chaos.

Steven whirls through his kitchen space with the uncoordinated choreography of a drunk elephant. Pots and pans are banging. There are tomato specks spattered across the kitchen tiles like a scene from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Smoke is rising, and there’s a strong burnt smell permeating every inch of his flat. The fire alarm has already gone off twice, and no doubt would be doing so again now if not for your executive decision to remove the batteries.

Even with the smell of smoke hanging heavy in the air, you’re smiling as you watch him destroy his kitchen. His enthusiasm is contagious, lighting up the whole of the room.

Half an hour and two fully open windows later, the storm subsides, and Steven makes his way over to where you’re seated on the bed, balancing a tray in his arms.

“Breakfast is served,” he announces, setting it down on the duvet with a flourish, and you can’t help the bubbly laughter that rises to your lips at the grandiose theatricality of it.

You watch his expression, enjoying the way he beams with pride as he starts plating out the cutlery and leans down to steal a confident kiss before neatly folding a napkin on your lap.

He’s gone completely overboard, but you can’t help but love it, love him.

“You know," he muses as he takes a seat beside you, "I’ve always wanted to do this. Serve someone a romantic breakfast in bed I mean. And now, here we are, and I’m just… I’m thrilled! Can’t believe I’m lucky enough that I get to do it with you, but I’m thrilled.”

And suddenly the joy is gone.

You sit on the top of the duvet, staring down at the breakfast tray of burnt toast and charred baked beans that Steven has prepared for you with such love and devotion, and all you feel is guilt.

You can’t help but wonder how much of his over-the-top enthusiasm is simply because he is so excited to finally have something he's been denied for such a long time. And he has no idea why he’s never been able to have it before. (But you do, and you’re lying to him about it.)

The happier the two of you are, the deeper the guilt festers in you like rot spreading under the still-shiny skin of spoiled fruit. It doesn’t matter that you haven’t seen Marc again. The very fact of his existence is impossible to ignore, haunting your time with Steven like a dark shadow that looms large in the corner of every room you share. You know now that somewhere underneath that shy and sweet exterior, there’s another man hidden behind the curtains, controlling his life.

You can’t go on like this. You need to tell him. Steven deserves to know.

Squaring your shoulders, you take a deep breath, gathering the courage to initiate the conversation. You can do this. It will be okay.

You look up to his warm eyes, which narrow slightly in confusion, and for the briefest of moments you think you see a reflection of Marc within them. That’s all it takes for you to lose your nerve.

You don’t want him to be taken away from you.

“Everything alright, love?”

Steven’s voice snaps you back to reality and you refocus your gaze to find those gorgeous brown eyes filled with concern.

You can’t tell him.

“You looked… worried.” Steven picks at the charcoaled edges of the toast with his fork, brows knitted with concern. “I’m sorry, this is really quite burnt, isn’t it? I’ll make new.”

You’ll lose him forever.

You glance at the charred bread and try to smile back at him. Wouldn’t it be nice if burnt toast was all you had to worry about?

No one else is going to save him from Marc. You’re the only one here, the only one who knows. You’re the only one he has.

The words falter on your tongue, and when you open your mouth they’re replaced by a different sentence entirely.

“You don’t need to make me a second breakfast, just come back to bed.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and drag him in towards you, feeling the curve of his smiling lips against your forehead. He’s warm and solid in your arms, yet the precariousness of his position has never been so apparent.

You need to protect him.

“Oh? And just what exactly are you planning for us to do in bed?” Steven asks, and you hear a hint of amusement in his tone. “Cause I don’t think it’s sleep, now is it?”

Your fingers thread through his curls, as you pull him downwards to your lips. “We can sleep after.”

It's noticeably lighter in the room when you wake, you can tell that much even with your eyes still shut. You must've had quite a lie-in if it's gotten late enough to be this bright.

Despite the warmth the afternoon sun brings to this space tucked up under the eaves, the bed feels colder than it should. It's only when you open your eyes that you understand why.

Steven is not in bed with you, which means...

In a panic, you lurch upright, head swivelling frantically as you search the cluttered flat for any sign of– There! You let out a sign of relief when you spot his familiar figure in the kitchen. He’s standing at the counter with his back towards you. Shoulders square and stiff, his movements sleek and sparse. Calculated.

It’s all very… un-Steven-like.

“Morning,” you call out hesitantly even though it must be well into the afternoon. You’re trying to confirm your suspicions, and sure enough, he doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t answer you either.

Definitely not Steven.

You draw up the covers and clutch them tightly to your chest. It feels like a distorted deja-vu of the first night. But unlike that night, you’re not engulfed in darkness; the slanted golden sunlight is streaming through the large windows of the flat, illuminating every dusty nook and cranny. Unlike that night, he has yet to speak to or even turn towards you, and you don’t have to fumble for your clothes this time. They’re there, neatly folded, in the empty spot of bed next to you.

Carefully dipping your toes onto the floor, you wrap the covers securely around you before slinking into the loo to get dressed. When you emerge, he’s still there, ignoring you. The silence is unnerving, a warning sign.

Stay away. Do not engage.

Given the experiences you’ve had with this man so far, you really should heed that warning. Anyone with half a brain or a scoop of survival instincts would quietly gather their stuff and flee the flat immediately, but not you. You hesitate. If this were a horror movie, you would be yelling at the daft woman on the screen to get the bloody hell out of there.

But if you do, then Steven is bound to wake up to an empty bed and an empty flat. You don’t want him thinking you’ve disappeared on him again, not after he told you how much it upset him last time. Particularly not after you’ve had a taste of the experience yourself. You don’t want to do that to him again. You need to leave Steven a note or something at the very least.

Your eyes skim the clutter, settling on a yellow pad of sticky notes on Steven’s desk. Perfect!

As quietly as you can, you tiptoe over to the desk and reach over for them. There’s a loud crash, and you jump, startled, your eyes darting to the floor by your feet. Steven’s pyramid paperweight lies there, staring back at you accusingly. You must have knocked it off the desk, a casualty of your graceless attempt at stealth.

So much for being inconspicuous.

When you look back up, Marc has turned around to stare at you.

It’s uncanny how unalike they look. It’s like one of those spot-the-difference photo games. The same face, the same body, but where Steven’s gorgeous dark eyes are wide and vulnerable, this man’s are narrowed and impatient. His brows perpetually drawn together and a constant stubborn set to his jaw as he grinds it.

He’s staring at you like that now, arms flexing where they’re crossed over his chest, and it feels like another warning.

A red fucking flag.

Every inch of your skin prickles at the hostile attention, but you can’t leave yet. You haven’t written the note. You can’t leave Steven in the dark again.

Doing your best to pretend that your heart isn’t trying to beat its way out of your chest, you take a deep breath and bend down to pick up the paperweight trying to steady it with your slightly trembling hands. It’s undamaged thankfully, and you quickly find a more secure spot on the desk to set it down, then search out the stack of sticky notes and a pen.

You can feel Marc’s penetrating gaze on you as you scribble down a quick message to Steven, and it’s all you can do to keep your shoulders from creeping up to your ears. You sign off with a heart for good measure. Hopefully that will allay some of Steven’s anxiety when he inevitably wakes up alone with no memory of seeing you leave.

Sneaking another look at Marc as you finish, you find that he’s still looking at you. Somehow though, it feels different than it did that first night. Less predatory and more... cautious. He is no longer a wolf eyeing his meal, but a wary stray sizing up whether you might pose a threat.

You square your shoulders and lift your chin as you walk over to the fishtank, more aware than ever that he’s watching your every move. He’s eyeing you with all the distrust of a shopkeeper who suspects you of shoplifting. You wonder with nervous annoyance if he thinks you're somehow planning to smuggle the gigantic tank out of Steven’s flat in your handbag.

“I don’t want him to worry,” you explain as you stick the yellow note onto the side of the fishtank.

At this, Marc finally officially acknowledges your presence.

“The fish?” he asks, raising one perfectly arched eyebrow in apparent confusion.

The… fish?

You stare stupidly back at him, not quite able to understand what he’s referring to until you follow his line of sight, turning your head to trace his gaze back to the fishtank.

Dear God. Is he joking or does this man seriously think you’re writing a message for Gus’ benefit? What kind of daft, idiotic—

“No, not the fish!” You interrupt your own mental tirade. “Steven. I don’t want Steven to worry.”

Marc doesn’t seem to have anything further to say to that. He just watches you with narrowed eyes as you finish gathering your belongings in silence. He doesn’t mention the dropped paperweight, or check in on your promise to keep his existence a secret from Steven. Apparently, Marc’s biggest concern is how the crazy lady Steven is sleeping with on a regular basis has learned to communicate with fish through written language.

The fish. Good God.

You want to laugh. All of a sudden, the formidable, larger-than-life image you’ve held of the man in your mind cracks, crumbling slightly around the edges. Amusement at the sheer knob-headed stupidity of his question lingers at the corners of your mouth as you turn and head to the door.

“Bye,” you call out, but he doesn’t respond to you as you close the front door behind you. You can’t believe you took a sick day for this.

Steven goes missing again.

When lunchtime rolls by and his trademark silly texts and photos of the odder artefacts from the museum’s collection fail to show up on your phone, you know that Marc must have disappeared into the ether and taken Steven with him again.

God. No wonder Donna always has it in for Steven if Marc keeps pulling stunts like this. If Steven was in the doghouse before, you can’t even imagine the torture she must be planning for him now. She’ll probably drag the doghouse into the inventory dungeon and throw away the key.

You glance at your phone where it’s lying next to you on the sofa, then at the palm of your hand where the numbers Marc had once scribbled down have long since washed off.

You’re allowed to initiate texts, right? He never mentioned that you couldn’t. And why else would he have given you his number in the first place?

Your hands are sweating as you swipe up your contacts, fingers a little shakier than you would like. It makes it hard to type correctly, despite your text being only three simple words.

You Is Steven okay?

You stare at the screen and watch the single tick turn into two. The message has been delivered. There’s no reply, but that makes sense, he hasn’t seen it yet.

Nothing further happens, but you watch the screen for a long time before eventually forcing yourself to put the phone down. This is not healthy behaviour. You try to busy yourself by pottering around in your flat, tidying the laundry you’ve left strewn about haphazardly, hand washing dishes and clearing out clutter. Anything to keep yourself distracted. But you still find yourself obsessively checking your phone every two minutes.

An hour goes by, then two. Still nothing.

And then, on yet another check, you notice the two ticks have turned from white to blue. He’s seen it. Still no reply though. Shit, this was a mistake.

The phone dings and vibrates in your hand, and you nearly shriek with surprise.

Marc He’s safe.

You When will Steven be back?

You don’t receive a reply to your second message, even though the two ticks turned blue almost immediately. But, just like the previous time, Steven returns shortly after, safe and sound and still none the wiser.

Your daily life settles into an odd sort of routine. You spend as much time as you can with Steven, but Marc is never far behind. In your early dating days, you only saw Steven a handful of times a week. It had never occurred to you before how omnipresent Marc was in Steven’s life.

The pattern goes like this: you and Steven get to play house and enjoy your relationship uninterrupted for a few days at most until, lo and behold, you wake up in the morning to an empty bed and neatly folded clothes next to you. Then it happens all over again.

At this point, your life has become some bizarro remake of Groundhog Day.

Wake up in bed together with Steven, and he’ll lovingly make you burnt toast for breakfast, blow up your phone with cute nonsensical texts during lunch, and surprise you with your favourite takeout for dinner.

Wake up alone in bed, and Groucho Marx is there serving you cold silence instead, and you spend the hours (or days) alone until Steven, still oblivious returns.

Rinse and repeat.

Eventually it occurs to you that mostly ignoring Marc isn't going to get you anywhere in the long run. He is clearly an all-time world champion at the quiet game. If something is going to change, it’ll have to be because you make it happen. You’re going to have to at least try to talk to the man if you want to get enough information to be able to protect Steven from him.

It’s this half-baked plan that comes to your mind, some weeks after, when you find yourself in Steven’s bed again, with no Steven next to you.

Instead you find him in the far corner of the kitchen, and your clothes folded on the bed next to you.

You’re not dumb. The odds of you chumming it up with this man are about the same as an ice-cube’s chances in hell. Your interactions so far have informed you that Marc is not the friendly type. In fact, he seems to be allergic to chit-chat. It makes the act of trying to befriend a person you still find somewhat intimidating all the more difficult.

Still though, these recent encounters have been downright bland compared with the time he revealed himself by threatening you in your bed. And even that was nowhere near as unnerving as your first encounter.

Maybe he isn’t as intimidating as you had made him out to be in your head.

“The fish?” he had asked with genuine confusion in his voice, and you almost crack up all over again at the memory of it.

Hell, if you do spend enough time with him, perhaps he’ll stop being scary to you altogether (unlikely, the little voice in your head tells you, but necessary, you rebut).

The end goal isn’t to befriend him. You’re never going to be besties. You just need things to be cordial between you, friendly enough that you can make sure that he doesn’t actively put Steven in harm’s way.

You call out a greeting on your way to the loo. Marc doesn’t answer and he doesn’t even look up or turn around when you emerge, ignoring you completely while you dress.

He's putting away dishes from the sink from last night at a snail’s pace, trying to make as little noise as possible. When he runs out of dishes, he stands there tapping his fingers as he looks around the kitchen, opening and closing a few cupboards, before he chooses one apparently at random and starts organising the items inside.

For a second, you just observe him, confused by his actions. Then it occurs to you that he’s busying himself in the kitchen so he doesn’t have to talk to you. That could be rather insulting if you allow yourself to dwell on it, so you don’t.

Instead, you turn your head, eyes roaming the walls of the space, desperate to come up with some topic of conversation to ease the tension. Your gaze catches on the heaps and heaps of books in the flat. There’s nothing that sets off Steven into an excited flurry of conversation like the mention of Egyptian history, if you’re lucky, their body isn’t the only thing that Marc shares with Steven.

“Do you have an interest in Ancient Egypt as well? Steven’s told me he’s read all of these books at least twice.”

Marc goes still, then turns slowly to face you. The silence is thick and heavy, and his eyes are mere slits as he looks at you. You suspect he’s hoping to scare you into dropping the subject so he doesn’t have to engage in conversation. But instead of looking away, you stand your ground, meeting his stare with as politely expectant of a gaze you can manage under the circumstances, waiting for his answer.

Kill him with (strained) kindness, that’s your strategy now.

After what seems to be an eternity, he opens his mouth to answer.

“No.” Statement made, he turns his back on you again.

One word. Apparently all you get is one, single, word, in the negative. Then it’s back to silence.

Even Steven gave you three words on your first date. God. The all-familiar frustration and deep desire to bang your head against the wall returns, and it takes more of your willpower than you would like to resist the urge.

You walk over to the fish tank, trying to give yourself a moment to think. Trying to recover. You find yourself smiling indulgently at the one-finned champ through the glass, as you watch as a row of bubbles leave his mouth.

"Do you think you’ll be gone for long this time? I don’t want Gus to get lonely."

Marc doesn’t answer, and your eyes catch the postcards that Steven has hung haphazardly all over the wall above the fish tank.

It’s a collage of iconic landmarks from various holiday destinations, and you read the locations of each postcard hanging on the wooden ledge. Morocco, Venice, Porto, Iceland, Moscow… Gosh, Steven’s mum is quite impressively travelled, isn’t she?

“Oh hey,” you turn around to face Marc. “When’s your mum coming back to London?”

He jerks around to stare at you, shoulders raised in a painfully firm line that’s stiff and defensive, even for Marc, and you have to stop yourself from apologising, though you’re not sure for what.

“What do you mean?” he asks. The words are said with such caution. He’s on guard as if bracing for a blow.

“From her travels?” you try to clarify.

His eyes narrow. The hostility is back. “What travels?” He asks.

You point to the postcards.

“Steven tells me she’s currently on a trip abroad. She’s sent him these?” You don’t know why the pitch of your voice rises as you speak, turning the last sentence into a question. There’s just something about Marc’s behaviour that makes you doubt every word coming out of your mouth.

“I don’t know. I don’t–” his voice breaks, fingers flexing as he curls them into agitated fists then releases them again.

“We don’t really talk anymore, we’re…” he stops and looks up but not at you. Instead, he looks to the ceilings as if the words he’s searching for will be etched somewhere in the wooden beams. “Estranged.”

That’s not right. You know that can’t be right. The cards are from Steven’s mother, who is always off travelling on some new adventure or other. It’s why he’s never introduced you, despite his excitement to show you off to her.

“What do you mean? Steven talks to her on the phone almost every day. Where do all these postcards come from then, if not from her? Surely they weren’t sent by a ghost?”

Something painful flashes in his eyes. Marc bites into the bottom lip, so hard it goes bone-white, and you know you must’ve struck a nerve, you just can’t tell which one or what it was you said that’s upset him.

“Marc?” you try again, voice cautious.

“I send the postcards,” Marc finally says.

“Then why does Steven think they’re from his mum?”

Marc doesn’t answer you, just turns his head to look away, and you’re getting more confusing by the second.

What the hell does he mean he sends them? And if so then why does Steven think they're from his mum? Either Marc's lying to you or–

“Wait! Are you sending these postcards to him while pretending to be his mum? Why are you lying to him?"

“Steven doesn’t need to know.”

“You say that a lot,” the words, sharp and bitter, come out before you think to stop them.

He stays quiet at your accusing tone. Doesn't move and stays seemingly unemotional. But there’s something there. It’s subtle. From the distance between you, it would’ve been easy to miss.

There’s a tick in the small muscle of his jaw. His nostrils flare ever so slightly.

Regardless of how hard Marc tries to hide it, trying to school his expressions, you know every intimate detail of this face too well for him to hide from you. It’s not an expression you’ve seen on Steven’s face, ever, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what it all amounts to.

He’s really quite upset, isn’t he?

Any sensible person would stop right about now. You’ve always prided yourself on being a sensible person, but since you met Steven, sensibility seems to have flown out the bloody window.

“Whatever it is, Steven can handle it. He’s so much stronger than you give him credit for.”

“Steven shouldn’t have to handle it," he snaps back at you. Voice losing any restraint he held before.

Once again the sensible thing would be to drop it. But the dismissive, know-it-all tone in his voice rubs you entirely the wrong way.

“He deserves to know. It’s not right for you to keep him in the dark like this. He deserves better. He’s an autonomous adult, and he should be allowed to make decisions over his life just as much as you do. You have no right to control his life the way you do. You’re torturing him.”

“I am not,” he all but shouts back, voice raised for the first time since you met him. “I'm protecting him. You know nothing about the world I live in. If Steven finds out about me, about the work I do, he will be drawn into that world. Steven will be in danger. Do you understand? Is that what you want? For him to know he's sharing body with a– ” Marc stops himself mid-sentence. Eyes wide in shock, as if surprised by his own outburst.

A silence falls between you, and he steps back, physically distancing himself from you. He continues to retreat until he bumps up against the kitchen counter, grabbing onto it to steady himself as he looks down to his feet, sharp eyes now hazy and unseeing, a guilt ridden tinge to his usually unshakeable expression.

You appreciate the space he’s giving you, but a more pressing thought pushes to the forefront of your mind. What was Marc going to say before he stopped himself? Did you want Steven to know that he’s sharing his body with… what, exactly?

You search his face, free to stare as much as you like now as his eyes remain downcast. “Just what is it that you do, Marc?”

“You don’t want to know,” he answers, voice quieter now, devoid of any emotion.

His stance is no longer as straight and firm and usual. His shoulders sag as he continues to stare fixedly at the ground, avoiding all eye contact. The lines around his eyes are marred with sadness, a mark of defeat. He’s curled into himself, the entirety of his body shrinking like he’s trying to make himself invisible. For a beat of a second, he reminds you all too much of Steven, and your heart breaks for him.

Even though this isn’t Steven you’re looking at, that all-familiar instinct to protect swells up in your chest. Your arms want to curl around him, drape yourself over him and tell him it’s okay.

You open your mouth, trying to come up with something to salvage the situation. The first words that come to your head is ‘sorry,’ but the problem is that you’re not. Not really. Sorry means that you condone his perpetual lies.

You hesitate for a long moment, but you don’t know what the right thing to say to him is. Probably because there is no right thing. And you’ve already bollocksed things up quite enough for one night, haven’t you? Perhaps it’s best to cut your losses now and try to do better next time.

As quietly as you can, you gather up your handbag, and head towards the door. “I’ll see you around, Marc.”

There’s no answer, and you don’t look back, as you close the door with a quiet click behind you.

Blue Planet is on in the background at your flat. It’s become yours and Steven’s weeknight ritual, but Steven is nowhere to be seen.

You sit on your sofa, a dull weight perched oppressively on your chest, as you think of Steven’s other half.

His words ring loud and sharp in your ears, overpowering Attenboroughs sombre narration on the telly, until Marc’s voice is all you hear.

“I’m protecting him,” he’d said.

You think of how small he’d looked this morning, completely unlike the other times you’ve seen him, but somehow, heartbreakingly, you suspect it’s the most honest you’ve ever seen him as well.

What reason does he have to lie to you? None.

Fishing your phone from your handbag, you pull up Marc’s contact details. You stare at it, fingers hovering over the keyboards, unsure of what you want to say.

You Are you and Steven okay?

Marc Steven’s fine.

It’s only a half an answer, and not quite the answer you would’ve liked. But part of you is surprised he responded at all considering the way things ended earlier.

You When’s Steven coming back?

He doesn’t answer you (surprise, surprise), and you’re just about to call it in for the evening when you remember Steven's upcoming performance review. If Marc is telling the truth– If he cares about Steven’s well-being the way he claims to, then he wouldn't want him to miss it, surely?

You He has his performance review at work on Monday.

There’s no reply, and you’re left on read once again.

Still, despite Marc’s lack of acknowledgement, Steven returns in time for work on Monday. He’s even on time for once.

You’re awoken in Steven’s flat by the quiet clattering of dishes being put away. The bed beside you is cold and as you reach out your hand, patting the mattress, instead of Steven, you find your clothes folded into a neat square.

You sit upright in the bed turning your attention to the kitchen, sure enough Marc is standing by the sink, tidying up after you and Steven the previous night.

“Good morning,” you call out.

Save for a brief pause in his work on the dishes, he doesn’t respond. The silence between you has taken a different tone now. It’s not unnerving or scary to you this morning. Instead it makes the heavy weight settle even deeper, until it’s carved a hollow dent into your chest at the thought of how you two last left it.

Dipping your toes onto the floor, you gather your clothes and once again make the habitual walk of shame to the loo to get dressed.

When you emerge, Marc predictably pays you no attention. You pad across the room until you find yourself standing in front of the fish tank.

You wonder how long you could stand here, without saying a word before he would have to give in and acknowledge you. An hour? A day? You suspect that you could very well stand here until you both grow old enough to claim pensions, and he’d still keep his silence.

It’d be easy to just walk out of the door. You have no obligation to Marc. He’s a stranger who wants nothing to do with you. The thought makes you sad.

You grab the shaker of fish food and sprinkle some into the water. It’s at least double the portion size Steven would usually give, but God knows how long he’ll be gone this time. Gus deserves a decent meal before he’s left to fend for himself.

When you’re done, you put the food back away above the fish tank. A postcard of the Alps catches your eye. Green fields full of cows peacefully munching away against the backdrop of ice-clad mountains. It’s so picturesque and idyllic.

“This one’s new,” you say out loud, and you observe Marc through the glass panes of the fish tank where he’s standing at the opposite end of the room. He looks over at you, and you gesture to the postcard.

“It’s so pretty. We went to Switzerland once when I was a kid.”

No response to that, but you continue to natter on mindlessly, “I got a cheap music box as a souvenir. I loved that thing. Used to listen to it for hours. I cried for a week when it broke and my dad threw it out.”

Marc doesn’t answer. He’s clearly still upset about last time. But instead of capitulating, you keep going. Sooner or later he has to crack and respond. Right?

“The melody was from The Sound of Music. It was my favourite movie growing up. Used to watch it on repeat on my mum’s old VHS player every day after school until it was completely worn out. Tried to run away once just so I could join a nunnery thinking I could work as a nanny for a handsome colonel and his kids”.

He hums in acknowledgment. A hum. Stubborn…

“I was kind of hoping I could take Steven for a weekend trip one of these days. A couple’s holiday.”

Still no reply, but as you watch him through the glass-panes of the fishtank, you can see his shoulders loosen, body language visibly relaxing.

“If you don’t mind, that is. Since we’d be bringing you along as well.” You say it facetiously, with as much humour in your tone you can muster, trying to invite Marc to share the joke. Unsurprisingly he doesn’t take the bait.

"We don't have to do this," he says. Zero inflection in his voice, but at least it’s a response.

You straighten up slowly and meet his gaze over the top of Gus’ tank. "I'm not sure what you mean?"

"This,” Marc reiterates. He gestures to the space between you. "You and me. Conversation. We don’t have to be friends,” he clarifies.

Wow, this man is blunt.

“I know we don’t have to. But…”

But what exactly? What are you trying to do here, really? The man has made it perfectly clear that he’s not interested in your friendship, barely willing to tolerate your mere presence in his vicinity.

“But,” you start again, “I’m hoping to be with Steven for a long time. And my understanding of the situation is that you and Steven are not…” you hesitate, unsure of what wording to use. If there’s a way to make this sound pretty, you can’t think of it, but you forge ahead anyway. “Well– That you two come as a package deal.”

Across from you, Marc straightens his posture, folding his arms. He assesses you guardedly from top to toe.

“It would be good if we could be friendly with each other,” you add hopefully, “Maybe even friends? We don’t have to be, of course, if you’re not willing, but… I think it would make Steven’s life easier. Better.”

There’s a subtle change in his face, and he rolls his shoulders, looking up at you from underneath his striking lashes. His expression is softer somehow, not the stern, unsmiling face he’s been perpetually giving you. It makes you hold your breath waiting for his answer.

Except it doesn’t come.

Seconds tick by, and the line of his lips presses down firmer. He looks away, something akin to frustration in his face, eyebrows pinched tightly together. Once again, you’re left to linger in the limbo of awkward silence. He clearly doesn’t want to continue this conversation.

You try to think of something else to add to your filibustering, but your well of potential topics to keep this one-sided conversation going has run dry. At least you tried. Giving up with a sigh, you flash him a resigned half-smile and turn to pick up your bag. You’re collecting the rest of your things when he finally speaks.

“I like Switzerland.”

You turn to stare at him, and you can feel your mouth gaping in what is probably a very unattractive imitation of Gus. You’re in complete disbelief that he actually volunteered information, completely unprompted. Well, mostly unprompted.

Marc shifts his feet slightly, redistributing his weight, and then miracles of all miracles he actually continues. “The mountains are nice. Quiet.”

You manage to snap your mouth shut, disproportionate elation building in your chest. You can’t entirely contain the gleeful smile that wants to spread across your lips, but you manage to tamp it down to something a bit more muted so he won’t think you’ve lost the plot entirely.

“They really are,” you agree warmly, “Nice and quiet.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment, and he doesn’t quite smile back, but something in his face relaxes marginally from the ever-present frown he likes to sport.

You can’t help but be happy (happier than you probably should be) that he finally opened up to you. That moment of joy and relief, of simply staring at this man as he softens before your very eyes extend into a much longer one, until you’re not sure how long you’ve been standing there but you’re too afraid to move in case this armistice breaks the moment you blink.

Out of nowhere, your stomach cramps. Before you know it, a growl of hunger reverberates across the cluttered walls of the flat.

Shit…

A shiver of embarrassment runs down your spine as you stiffen. Surely, it’s one of those moments where the silence of the room intensifies any sound. You’re just aware of it because it’s your own stomach. Surely Marc didn’t hear it.

“You’re hungry,” Marc states.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

It’s the sort of comical nonsense that constantly happens between you and Steven… Not with Marc. If only the Universe had gotten the memo.

Turning his feet, Marc walks towards Steven’s fridge—or is it his too?—which immediately starts whirring noisily as soon as he opens the door. “There’s not much, but I can manage scrambled eggs and sausages.”

“I… um…” You hesitate. Not sure if you should take him up on the implied breakfast invitation. You can’t help but feel that you’ve pushed your luck about as far as it will go already this morning, and that you’re bound to upset the delicate progress you’ve miraculously managed to achieve if you stay. “I don’t want to impose…”

Marc looks back at you, eyes narrowing as he studies your reaction, and it’s like he can read you like an open book.

“You’re not imposing. I’m no gourmet cook, but my food won’t kill you. Can't be worse than Steven’s. You ate that and survived.”

You’re stunned. Blinking at his comment, it takes you far too long to realise he means it as a joke. A rush of laughter rises up to your lips, once you do. He’s offering you food and joking with you. That’s a friendly gesture if you’ve ever seen one.

You stay, and he’s right. The slightly runny eggs and soggy vegan sausages left in Steven's fridge are nothing to write home about, but you eat them with a smile on your face.

You Hi. Have you taken Steven again? He’s not answering my texts.

Marc Yeah. He’s safe.

You When’s he coming back? We have a date on Saturday. I’ve made a reservation and they’ve taken a deposit. Do I need to cancel?

Marc No. He’ll be back.

You Thank you.

You’ve just put your phone face down on your nightstand when an impulse you can’t quite explain pushes at the corner of your mind, and you reach for it again.

You Be safe.

Placing your phone back down, you expect that to be the end of it. When your phone pings and vibrates against your night table a moment later, you jump, startled. You unlock the screen to see the new message.

Marc Thanks.

~ CONTINUE~

Credits/Dedications

Forever and always to my wonderful, amazing and most perfect friend and co-writer @thirstworldproblemss. I'm just going to keep this simple and true. I love you, in fact I love you the m💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗st

Also a shoutout to @the-ginger-hedge-witch @radiowallet @write-and-buried who have listened to me scream about this.

And last but absolutely not the least to everyone who's followed and read this story. I appreciate you so big-ly!! I am so so excited to share this chapter with you and finally get to delve properly into Marc beyond... mystery guy who frowns a lot. Whether you're lurking, liking, commenting or reblogging, thank you all so much for reading this little work of ours!

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