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*:･ﾟ✧
Why did Marc Spector disappear off the face of the Earth and leave his loved ones fumbling in the dark, utterly clueless as to his whereabouts; his well-being?
Corbin had mused, pondered, and nearly wept over that exact question. No one came forward to resolve the conflict hammered down upon him and Layla, least of all Marc himself. It had been 2 weeks now since they last received any sign from him, and in the beginning of his tasteless evanescence — even before that — they'd come to the conclusion that it must've stemmed from his alter ego. The God whispering in his ear, and the pale suit masking him as a Vigilante. However, that was until the papers had arrived on their doorstep. Corbin thought he knew what it meant, it certainly represented what it stood for, but even though it gave both him and Layla a fright, the parchment remains empty as of yet.
"Are you ready to go?"
Layla saunters over to Corbin, a smile on her lips. He watches her for a moment and the pull of her mouth — in all of its halfhearted glory. "When am I not?"
'I know it's not, but it somehow feels...'
'Yeah...it does feel a little weird, but life doesn't stop here. Even when Marc's not around.'
"Well, look at you. Wow." Corbin pushes his formal-dressed self away from the kitchen counter. Their shared apartment is settled oh-so-very still, lives weighed down to half ever since Marc had stormed out with a bag thrown over his shoulder. The sky outside, beyond the sheets of glass, has been moderated to calmer hues all across France. Corbin's attention drops down as he takes a moment to really dig into his partner's attire. "I know I say this a lot, Layla, but as your outstanding boyfriend then I'm obligated to tell you that you look gorgeous," he hums with an eye-reaching smile, guiding the woman into the safety of his arms. "The jumpsuit is lovely."
"Thank you," Layla drawls slowly, teasingly, "you're not looking so bad yourself for someone who gets six hours of sleep nowadays." Her grin begins to fade. Hands vacating Corbin's black button-up shirt and caressing the darkened skin below his eyes with her thumbs, she has cupped his head with attentive care. Her head is tilted to the side. "What have they been saying lately? Your dreams, I mean."
"Honestly? Not much." Corbin gazes down at the woman he's embracing, the way her curls are framing her softened expression and the lines of her doting eyes. He's grateful to have met Layla all those years ago, to be in a future where they've stuck together through various tribulations. If not, the pressure on his shoulders would've never let up without her inquiries of concern. "I guess that's why I've been so restless these past few nights; things are beginning to stir up again. That I know of, anyway." With a drained heart, he catches her left hand and places a soft kiss near the rim of her wrist. Layla melts with his touch, two times over as he proceeds to her forehead. "We should get a move on. Date night won't go anywhere unless we do."
