Let Me In

Part 2

Steven let out a low hum from behind him.

The dent, or perhaps more accurately described as a gash, was directly underneath the shower head. It was as if someone had been mid wash when out of no where they decided then would be the best time for some remodeling. It had to be with their bare hand, if the streaks of red buried in the nooks and crannies of the tile meant anything.

The answer was blindingly obvious, and yet Marc still struggled to do more than stare at the reckless show of violence in the wall. He could feel Steven waiting for him too, standing cross armed in the mirror with an expression he was too on edge to fully comprehend. After what felt like hours, the he finally sighed.

"Well, we definitely punched a hole in our wall."

"How though? I sure as hell didn't do that, and I know you didn't. Well, at least I hope you didn't. Maybe we were actually sleep walking this time?"

"Sleep walking? Steven, think about what you suggested for one second, and please tell me you're not actually that stupid."

There was no way either of them could have sleep through a fist to the wall. His eyes trailed down to his fist, currently laying limp against his side. It wasn't a fresh bruise, maybe two or three days old. The sore been beyond painful to wake up to, and the fact neither of them bothered to address it kept rearing its ugly head. That, and the realization that they hadn't showered in days. He hadn't even noticed.

"Well, what are we going to do?" Steven began again. "There can't seriously be another. I told you we should-"

"No, we don't need a therapist." Marc spat. "I told you, we've already gotten everything worked out. Our lives are balanced, we both have jobs, all that communication shit you're always preaching about. I don't see what a therapist would do other than state the obvious."

Steven huffed, and Marc took his cue to look back at the wall. As easy as it would be to argue, it was four in the morning. He could feel the stress from the day still weighing on his body. Every inch of himself ached in some form or another, and the heat from their apartment did little to help. "I guess a dent in the tile doesn't mean we can't still use the shower, right?"

"What? Are you seriously still considering showering after finding a bloody hole punched in our wall?" Steven gasped.

"I mean, yeah. It's 4 am Steven, you have work tomorrow. What are we going to do about it tonight?"

Several sentences started, but none of them were completed. All he ended up getting was a few meek sputters, before the other finally relented. "Fine, but we're talking about this in the morning. I don't feel comfortable just- continuing on like nothing happened."

"I know Steven, I know."

With that, Marc watched the anxious face in the mirror shift back into the fatigued one he'd grown to know. With the shower once again started, and temperature yet to be at the perfect spot, Spector took the few seconds he had to look at his expression a little more closely. The deep-seated bags under his eyes, the pale skin, the five o'clock shadow. Every pore on his face seemed unnaturally noticeable, and it was hard not to think of all the people who'd seen this same face today.

One he struggled to identify as his own.

~★✡★~

Despite having the schedule in place for almost a month now, it never ceased to surprise him whenever he actually found himself with the body.

Being in control was better, no doubt. That still didn't make the transition from backing, to being in front any less jarring. His first instinct always seemed to be stretching his arms out as far as they could go, as if to test just how much jurisdiction he really had.