Moon Knight Nonsense

Marc's POV: The Weekend

Sad Marc Feels

Summary: Marc has a weekend to himself and is trying a hand at this whole self-care crap that everyone's on his ass about. Turns out he can't get away from himself. 

Warnings: No smut. Mentions family death, C-PTSD, childhood trauma, self-hatred, hurt/comfort. I'm all up in my feels and wanted to write a character that can relate. Sorry not sorry in advance 8)

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Marc was having a good weekend. There was nothing special about it but that was the whole point. Layla was going to be gone for another week. He wasn't out on a job. He wasn't tasked with doing anything special for Steven. There were a few jobs around the apartment he could be doing - he probably should be doing - but instead, he'd decided to try that whole self-care crap the others kept getting on his ass about.

So he tried doing nothing. A day of rest. A whole weekend of it.

Admittedly, at first, it was an unsettling sensation. Didn't feel right that he wasn't trying to be useful to someone else. He'd always pushed Steven to the front to take up the majority of their free time. Now that he had it, what would he do with it?

Turned out that doing nothing was doing something. He doom-scrolled on his phone for the longest time. Longer than he cared to admit. Not entirely permitted on a day of rest but it was enjoyable and no one was there to stop him.

More importantly, Steven wasn't there to stop him.

He remained in bed. Finding no motivation alone to get out of the pit he'd settled into and called home. Letting himself rot was self-care, right? Wrong. Steven didn't need to be there for Marc to hear that little British voice saying otherwise.

Eventually, hunger took over his needs. Prepared a meal in the form of leftovers. Told himself not to meal prep for the others while he was at it. He should. They needed to eat properly too. This weekend was about doing something for himself. Why was that so much harder?

Found himself venting to Gus. Even with his whole weekend shtick of only focusing on himself, the fish needed to eat. Little bastard relied on them. Plus he really didn't need another fish funeral as part of his self-care routine. Marc found he was indeed a good listener. Even if he was ranting about nonsensical things. It felt good to get it off his chest.

The evening was spent reading but that soon put him back to sleep.

Overall, if someone asked, he'd say it was a pretty decent weekend.

By Sunday, it did feel like it'd taken some of the weight off his shoulders. Lost a lot of the day to a game he discovered where he could renovate houses. Something about the repetition relaxed him. Let him switch off while still being very much at the forefront of their mind.

At some point his phone buzzed. Expected it to be Layla calling and paused his game to take it. Froze when he saw what name that came up.

Ma.

It was his ma calling.

He hadn't spoken to her on the phone in years. Watched the phone buzz with some underlining urgency. Knowing it wouldn't be forever but that moment felt like an eternity. Staring at the screen. Suspicious and unmoved. That churning in his stomach. He should take it. He knew he should. Could take a good guess at what would come if he did.

The call rang out and stopped, but Marc was still staring at the screen.

Why now? What did she want?

He should call her back. Apologize for not picking up. Make up some excuse why he couldn't. Nothing came to mind. He pushed the phone away from himself. Couldn't bring himself to go back to his game. He pushed away from the desk. Needing to move. To find something to distract him. To ground him.

His ma had called. He checked again. Sure enough, a missed call.

Why.

No message. No voice mail.

Another punishment of hers. Only this one was of his own doing. A reminder of what a bad son he was. He should call her back.

He paced his apartment.

What if something bad had happened?

What if it's nothing and she's just drunk again and wants to lash out?

But what if she doesn't? What if she actually wanted to talk to him?

He threw his phone on the bed. Watching it bounce off and go clattering along the floorboards. Another thing that went out of his control. Hand wiping over his face and into his hair to pull. It hurt but he needed to feel something. It was that or he'd hit himself.

Fuck.

Why was she calling him? Hadn't she died? That unsettling logic in the mess of his thoughts brought him back to himself. He checked his phone again. The bottom right of the screen was all cracked, but it still functioned. Couldn't find it in himself to care about the damage. He was going back to the call logs.

Ma had called. It was there in plain sight. Tears welled in his eyes. He dropped down into his bed and curled up in his sheets. Tried holding it in but alone with the missed call he found it all came crashing down. He sobbed like a little boy again. That was easier to do than to call her back.

Had to remind himself he was safe, he was okay. That he wasn't that kid anymore.

He should call her, but everything in his brain told him he shouldn't want to call her. He couldn't even say he hated her. The truth was, he didn't. He wanted to love her. As he'd grown, he came to an understanding that he could love her at a distance and accept she couldn't love him back.

It couldn't be his ma that called. She was dead. Maybe he was losing it again. That made more sense.

He thumbed at his contacts. Hitting the call button and bringing the phone to his ear. Listening to the ring until she picked up.

"Hey." His voice cracked.

Layla's voice on the other end. Concerned but trying not to be. Marc uncurled and rolled onto his back. Taking a breath. The corner of his lip quirked to something she said.

"Nothing's wrong. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you."