Crazy? [MOONKNIGHTXREADER]

Chapter 12

You were just about to get into the shower. Even without everyone else's internal voices to crowd your mind, your own inner monologue was restless. Before you could step in, water finally hot and steaming, you flinched. Something shattered, and a distant yell pierced through the penthouse. Alarmed, you ran up the stairs. "Layla?!" You called out to the two bedrooms, hearing nothing. Cursing, you continued up the stairs, wrapping your towel around you tightly as you stomped up the stairs. The sight laid before you was one that shook you to the core.

Khonshu, hovering over Marc. Lights flickering. Broken glass everywhere, and the smell of blood. Marc trembled. You don't know how you knew, but it was Marc on the ground- not Steven.

The Egyptian deity's skull quirked towards you, your face draining of color in fear. His head simply twitched, invisible gaze darting between you and his avatar. With an annoyed groan, Khonshu disapeared in a gust of wind and a wisp of sand. Marc said nothing that would give away him noticing this.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you approached Marc, tentative. You pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder. "Marc?" He seemed to flinch more at your voice than your touch. Marc's shoulders shook with every breath. "I'm sorry." He told you weakly, tone broken and thick. You frowned. "What for?" He gestured to the shattered glass. "The door." You squeezed his shoulder gently. "It's okay, it can be replaced. I'll just tell my parents a bird flew into it or something." You took a step towards him, circling around him while being careful of the glass around your bare feet. "What happened?" You asked him, trying to find his eyes. They were glossed over and unfocused, glaring down at the ground. Following his gaze, your eyes widened in alarm upon seeing his right knuckle was covered in blood. "Marc- fucking shit, your hand!" You grabbed his wrist, inspecting it. There were scattered smaller cuts that dotted the back of his hand, along with a larger gash that ran along its side.

Letting go, you wrapped an arm around Marc's shoulders. "Come on, Marc." You told him, trying to pull him up. "I don't know what happened, but you can tell me later. We gotta take care of that hand of yours, okay?" His eyes flickered up to yours, full of pain and fatigue. "Got it." You frowned deeply, worried as you directed the man down the stairs. "You look like shit." You muttered, helping him along. A quiet chuckle escaped him. "Yeah, I bet." With pursed lips, you asked, "do you need some coffee? Espresso?" He shook his head gently. "No, coffee will make me crash. Makes things worse." You nodded in understanding. "Okay." The reply left you softly as you continued to help the man downstairs.

After the first flight, Marc seemed wake up a little from his stupor. Not by much, but enough to look down and frown at the sight of your bare feet. "You're not wearing shoes." He commented, looking up at you with creased brows. "You could've cut your feet open." You huffed, adjusting your grip on him as he leaned less and less weight on you with every step. "Well, I didn't have time to put on shoes. I just heard you yell, glass shatter, and I panicked and ran up." Your frown deepened. "Wish I knew where Layla went, though." You admitted quietly. The man huffed. "She said she was going to bed, but she's not usually this heavy of a sleeper."

When the two of you got to the first floor, you had him sit at the kitchen's island. "Give me a sec," you told Marc, leaving the man to be by himself in the kitchen. "Not like I have anywhere to go." You let out a small laugh as you took out your phone, messaging Layla as you went to grab the first aid kit.

You: Where are you?

You let the message sit, shoving your phone in your pocket. If she doesn't reply in five minutes, I'll call her. You told yourself, heading into the small guest bathroom. Checking beneath the sink, you shuffled through the towels before finding a small kit, pulling it out with a small smile. "Success." You told yourself, smiling with a soft breath of relief. Before you left the bathroom, you made sure to slip on some clothes, not wanting to work in nothing but a bath towel. Making your way back to Marc, you rounded the corner to the kitchen again and set the kit on the counter. "So, first I'm going to have to have you rinse your wound with water. Then we'll use soap, antibacterial, and all that other fun stuff." You told him as you opened the kit, glancing up at him to find Marc wore a deadpan expression. He slid off the stool with a huff. "Understood, Doc." You rolled your eyes as you led him over to the sink. "Ha-ha." You laughed without humor as you turned on the sink, taking out your phone again.