Work Text:
I can be better. I can be whatever they need me to be. People will only stay if I create my worth by being useful. I can be useful. I am useful. I’ll become whatever people need. People deserve what they need, I’ll give that to them no matter the cost. I’ll be what you need me to be.
You want to sleep away from Marcus, you want to be alone, to be allowed the space to process what you’ve just been told. You find some solace on the couch but it isn’t far enough to allow yourself to cry. Marcus will hear, you don’t want him to hear.
Marcus lies alone, hating himself, not for telling you but for even getting distracted in the first place. Now the bed that’s usually warm and full of love is cold and he can feel your warmth pulling at him from the living room where you lie. After nearly an hour of tossing and turning, he gives up.
You can’t sleep, your mind is swirling with things you could have done differently. Should’ve dressed nicer for him, he always said he loved when you dressed down because it was your ‘truest self’ but looking back on it… he was probably bringing attention to it in hopes you’d notice and change it. Been more spontaneous and fun, why stay in and cook for each other when the whole world is just outside your door? You rip apart everything, everything he’s said or done. How long ago did this all start? How far back do you have to be unsure of his words and actions?
The hurricane of thoughts, slamming against the inside of your cranium, comes to an unsettling halt when Marcus enters the doorway. He looks like a mutt hoping to be adopted: scared, guilty and hopeful. And yet… when you see him… your chest tightens and your mind is screaming at you and at him to the point where your thoughts are incomprehensible.
“I know I don’t deserve… I-. will you please come to bed? I- I can’t sleep when uh- when the bed is just so empty and cold,” he looks at the ground and rubs his neck uncomfortably, “we don't have to cuddle or anything I just-” he scoffs at himself. He can't believe he got up and would ask you this. “You know what, forget I said anything,” he says before turning around.
You wanted to find solace alone but… you also don’t want to push him further away than he already is. So you get up from the couch and walk to the bedroom, once filled with dreams that you now know will never come true and thus the guilt that comes with it. Marcus is surprised by your appearance and clearly happy but he holds himself back he knows things aren’t the same and he doesn’t have the right to want you close. So he lets you lay in bed next to him with a distance that says ‘divorce parents ’. You’re scared this is worse than the physical distance that distanced the two of you into separate rooms. So you move towards him… with a hesitation that says ‘happily married with 2 kids’. You’re scared of losing him and at this point will do anything to keep him so you sleep next to him as though nothing happened. You even bring your arms around him and hold him as if you love him the same, as if he still loves you the same.
You just have to pretend to be happy and then one day… you’ll believe it. If you just keep pretending that things are fine for you… then they will be. While also improving yourself to ensure Marcus stays interested, of course… but right now you play the part of pretending so that everything’s fine.
Just pretend that Marcus's touch doesn’t feel like betrayal. Just imagine that it’s yesterday and everything you thought you knew is still true. You’re happy and Marcus is happy and the two of you are happy together .
Emotional exhaustion is the only reason that you end up asleep. You didn’t feel tired, but then again a lot has happened in the last few hours that you didn’t see coming. You know you’re mentally and emotionally exhausted because you’re in bed with him. Because you didn’t stand for the one ounce of self-respect you have. You’ve imagined being cheated on and betrayed, how you’d calmly walk out and let their regret and sorrow eat them alive because you deserve better. But here you are, in the bed and arms of a man who just told you he’s interested in someone else.
Marcus doesn’t sleep. You didn’t calmly walk out but the regret and sorrow eats him alive all the same. He deserves it, he knows he does and he hates it, he wishes he wasn’t so stupid as to get distracted and hurt you because now he’s left with nothing but the mess he created. He’s confused, how could he love you and yet so easily get pulled into Teresa’s trap? He never questioned his love for you, you took up all the space in his mind so how was Teresa able to squeeze in? When he thinks back to when he and Teresa first met there’s nothing, just another co-worker. When did it become more? He remembers thinking about you when she spoke about being single, about how happy you made him. Then… he remembers seeing and talking with Teresa and only seeing and thinking about her. When did that happen? How did that happen? How could he let this happen? And yet here you lay next to him. He knows you’re only in his arms because you’re scared he'll leave because that’s basically what he said to you. He’s resurrected the evil voices that taunt your every being, the voices he helped you fight into submission, a battle that took you years. He’s broken every moral code, value and promise he’s ever made to himself and to you. By 3:00 am his grief eats him alive to the point where he can’t fight his exhaustion.
An uneasy anxiety wakes you, the time reads 4:42 am. You feel… different… cold and robotic. Numb. You’ve allowed yourself to take blame and create a solution that you can provide, it’s made you indifferent and detached. You're no longer a loving partner but an actor playing one, acting out the role perfectly but you can only act it perfectly if you don’t let your own emotions get in the way. You think about picture-perfect relationships, often subliminally misogynistic, and use them as your guide. You’ll get up and dressed and make breakfast, a big one, a big ‘I’m sorry’ movie breakfast! Marcus will be happy. You carefully remove Marcus’s arm from you. His touch isn’t warm, it burns your skin and feels like a lie. You breathe better without his arm on you, without him touching you but you don’t allow yourself to enjoy that freedom because you have a job to do. You shower, shave, exfoliate, wear perfume, do your hair and put on a nice not-so-casual outfit before creating an expansive spread for breakfast. You’ve gone about the morning like a stereotypical 1950s housewife, all that’s missing is a husband that won’t appreciate your work.
It is just as you’re setting everything in place that Marcus appears. You can tell he’s confused like he’s trying to figure out if this is real or a dream. A dream… see you can be his dream if you just try.
“What’s all this?” he asks, confused. And now you feel silly…
“I- um-…” you’re suddenly nervous and can’t find the right words, the words that don’t scream ‘I’m terrified you’ll leave me so I’ll do and be whatever you want me to’. While fighting to find the words Marcus slowly makes his way to you. You take a deep breath,
“I just… I wanted to remind us how… good , happy we are together,” you muster out.
“Oh baby you don’t have to do that, I’m always happy with you, you never have to remind me,” Marcus says solemnly. ‘ Then why are you interested in someone else ’ your brain says. You nod as though you believe him.
The two of you sit and enjoy your hard work but it’s filled with a heavy and awkward silence.
“What time did you get up? I mean, you did all this,” Marcus says while gesturing to the food, “and you’re dressed up.”
“It’s nothing, I just couldn’t fall back asleep this morning so…” you shrug, “I got a head start on the day. Plus I figured it’d be nice for you to not have to wake up to what looks like a beached sea creature,” you joke. You smile and laugh at yourself, trying to ensure he doesn’t see how truthful you’re being, how negatively you’re seeing yourself. Marcus puts his cutlery down and looks at you seriously, leaning into the table and giving you his hands to take. You place your hands in his, leaning over the table yourself.
“You never, never, are anything other than beautiful to me, ever .”‘ Then why did she catch your eye?’ “I love seeing you relaxed and happy more than anything, I love it because it's like you’re bearing your soul to me.”‘ Then why weren’t my soul and I enough?’
His words burn, they hurt, you’d actually prefer poisoned words or a physical blow because what he’s doing now is so much worse. It’s a reminder of what was, what could’ve been, of what he’s capable of faking.
You smile and scoff, unable to take in his words completely without crying. He can’t see you cry. You take your hands from his.
“You’re the only one who thinks that Marcus and it might be because you need to see an optometrist. Plus,” you continue to ensure he can’t break down your defences, “I had time and wanted to remind myself how hot I can be.” Another joke, anything but face reality, change the topic, nod and smile, but don’t look in the mirror too long, don’t look at Marcus too long, don’t interpret his words, let everything roll off your back and avoid the actuality.
Marcus knows what you’re doing, he knows you too well not to and it breaks him to see you put up all your defenses. To have you listen to all the evil little voices in your head, to have you act and the worst part? He knows it’s all because of him. He knows these defences, he encountered them early on in your relationship, and he helped take them down. Now he’s the reason they’re up. You’re creating a version of yourself you believe he’ll like, a version he’ll love, but he truly does love the real you. He loves waking up to your relaxed body, no matter how awkward the position seems or the state of your pyjamas. He loves waking up to see the hairstyle your pillows made you, to see whatever face your face has found itself in even when it leaves you drooling, especially when it leaves you drooling. He loves your morning breath and your slightly cranky and disoriented mood when you first wake. He loves seeing your shoulders be relaxed and your jaw unclenched, even if it gives you less-than-perfect posture and a double chin. He loves all these things that you hate because he knows it means you’re at ease with him. That you trust him. That you don’t have to put a show on for him, a brave face that you wear too often. He’s one of the few that get to see you , not a facade. Got, Your brain quickly corrects, got to see.
“I think we need to talk about what I said last night,” Marcus says.
‘ You mean how you found somebody else?’ , “I don’t know that-...”
“I know it’s going to… suck to put it lightly but I told you for a reason. Because I do love you, and I’d never hide anything from you, including some silly crush.”
“Silly crush? You told me she took up your mind, that you were mesmerized by her laugh. It wasn’t just finding someone attractive or enjoying their company!” you begin to raise your voice.
“I know, I know. I- I just don’t know what to do. I do love you, I've envisioned our lives together, growing old and being the cutest couple in the care home…”
“Then how could you fall so easily for Teresa? How could you love me if you are able to forget all about me at the sight of another woman?!”
“I don’t know, I- My mind is a mess. I can’t give you an answer. I’m sorry. But… I don’t want you to do this, to be this.” Marcus says while motioning towards you and the absurd breakfast you put together.
“Marcus… I don’t know that I can do that. I look at you and… all I see are my flaws, reasons I’m not good enough. And I know you’ll argue that but it doesn’t matter what you say because I no longer trust a word you say.” Tears well up in your eyes, this isn’t how your morning was supposed to go, you were supposed to fake happiness until everything was fine.
Your words break Marcus’s heart. Flaws ? You didn’t have any in his eyes. He’s desperate.
“But tell me you’re willing to try, please?”
I can’t lose him, he’s my everything. He just needs time, he’ll realize he’s being silly and come back to me. He has to. Things will be fine. They have to be.
You take a deep breath and nod, “I’m willing to try,” you say just above a whisper. The words hurt because it means stabbing yourself in the heart every moment that you look at him. Pretending that you’re enough when you’re not. This isn’t the same as pretending things are fine because Marcus has already admitted it isn’t, that he knows about your defences and doesn’t want you to use them. To openly let yourself get hurt.
— a week later —
The day has taken everything out of you, you’re exhausted but you’ve got housework to do. Truth is, this last week you’ve felt like utter garbage and have tried to hide it by putting more effort into your appearance. If you look good on the outside, you'll feel good on the inside right? Well, it hasn’t really worked but it’s given you something to think about besides the crushing cloud of melancholy that fogs your head. However, between the cloud and the energy you’ve exerted trying to ignore it, you’ve come home exhausted. Although it doesn’t feel much like home anymore, you’re constantly on edge now, waiting for Marcus to say or do something. All while finding subtle ways to improve yourself. You’ve slacked a lot on the house duties. Marcus hasn’t said anything and he’s picked up your slack. He reassures you that it’s okay given the circumstances, that he wants you to ‘focus on yourself’.
Marcus has found a way to come home early every day this week, except today. Your brain tells you that he doesn’t have to stay late to work but is instead spending time with Teresa. But you can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re too tired if he wants to leave, and you knoe he will but at this point there's nothing you can do to change that.
While you mentioned taking a break, allowing him to explore, he really hasn’t. He’s felt so guilt-ridden about what he’s done to you, he just wants to make it all better. That in no way redeems him, he knows that. He’s invested more in you, trying to communicate how awful he feels, how he knows he fucked up. Then a case calls extra attention from the team and in walks Teresa… He sees her and feels guilt. He wants to run away from her and into your arms but then she smiles at him… and he forgets you. He forgets how you make him giggle when you wake up annoyed at your alarm every morning. He forgets how you always pour his coffee before your own. He forgets that you’ll plan spontaneous dates after a rough week to help each other forget about it even for a little. He forgets the adorable face you make when concentrating or trying to remember something. He forgets the way you jump and scream when he accidentally startles you that always ends in the two of you laughing in each other's arms. He forgets that he has a piece of the sun waiting at home for him.
You change out of your day's clothes and into some nice loungewear. Nice enough to be comfy but not enough to fall asleep immediately in. You put some music on and begin cleaning, maybe it’s the slightly messy state of your house that is attributing to your dark cloud. If you clean the house, you’ll clean your mind. You know that's not true, that this time it isn’t something you can clean or tend to, to solve. But you do it anyway, hoping it’ll provide some relief. You start in the kitchen, getting lost in the loud music, before you make your way to the bathroom and laundry, losing track of time. Then all that’s left is vacuuming.
It’s late, you haven’t eaten or bothered to prepare anything, it didn’t feel necessary when you heard Marcus wouldn't be home for dinner. You’re tired but the music is keeping you moving and there’s a small feeling of accomplishment from getting so much work done in spite of your down mood.
The moment work is finished, Marcus is filled with guilt again. He’s here with Teresa… you’re at home… It’s like she has a spell over him. He thinks of you and his heart sinks. He thinks about how sad he feels with you and happy he feels with Teresa… he’s made his choice. He goes home feeling sick to his stomach, but he can’t continue like this, in limbo. He thought he’d feel lighter with his mind made up but he feels heavier until he gets home and opens the door. You’re singing, and moving to the music while vacuuming. He smiles, he loves coming home to you, he wants to come home to this forever… Your singing is offkey and he loves it, it’s not a show you’re putting on.
Marcus goes and pauses the music and in a split second, you turn and scream before realizing it’s him. You put a hand to your chest, catching your breath. Marcus laughs,
“I didn't mean to scare you but this was the least startling way I could think of letting you know I was home.”
“How was work?”, you ask with a small smile, mustering all the energy left in your body to resemble slightly happy and not broken down. Work… Marcus thinks, that’s right, work, his decision.
“I’ve made up my mind,” You furrow your brows, too tired to connect the dots. “I know who I love, who I want to be with more,” ‘ Oh… right, I let him pick, let him decide.’
“And?” Marcus takes a deep breath,
“I want to be with Teresa.”
Time stops and you’re numb, “oh,” is all that comes out. Your eyes aren’t focused and nothing feels real. “Umm… what does- where…” you begin to stutter out.
“I’ve booked a hotel and will find a new place.”
“You’ve already booked a hotel?” you ask emotionless.
Marcus nods, “Back at the office.”
“You’ve already planned…” He’s planned out how to leave. Staying wasn’t ever an option.
“I’m sorry…” Marcus starts but you can’t bear to hear it.
“No no, you- you told me what you felt and I gave you time to decide. You’ve decided. This is just… the cards we were dealt…” you say numbly. Marcus hates to hurt you because he really does love and care for you, he’s just not sure you’re his endgame.
“I-I‘ll go pack a bag,” he says before leaving the foyer.
He decided. In your clouded head and act you forgot that things could end. That no matter what you did… it wouldn’t have been enough. Somehow this hurts less than when he first told you about Teresa, maybe part of you already knew and grieved. Maybe it was the mix of self-hatred and pessimism that took over your life last week that made the blow more bearable. What hurt was the future. What was your future? Before it was always you and Marcus… now everything was… gone. You’d have to build yourself from scratch. The unknown for the indefinite future was horrifying. Your heart begins racing, everything you knew, the stability in your life, is being stripped from you overnight. Your breaths become shallow as you think about having to move, will you be able to find a new place? Will it be nice? Close to work? What if it’s a dump, infested with rodents and insects? Your hearing is long gone, all you hear is the whirlwind in your mind. Your shallow breaths make you lightheaded and burn your lungs. You lower yourself to the ground with the help of the couch.
Everything’s a blur and then Marcus’s face is there, in front of you. He looks worried, why’s he worried? What’s happened? Is he okay? Finally, he touches you and you hear an echo of your name come from his lips. Me, I am what’s wrong.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you breathe out, taking some grounding breaths, focusing on how hard the ground feels beneath you. When your senses come back to you, you briefly forget what Marcus has just told you. You see him and think you’re glad he was here to help, but then it dawns on you, he’s the reason it started.
You quickly get up like his presence hurts, because it does.
“I’m fine. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-…”
“It’s fine you’re okay,” Marcus says while moving to give you a reassuring touch. You maneuver away from him,
“I’ll let you get back to packing,” you finish without looking at him and walking out the front door. You need air and space.
You don’t go far, your mind is too busy to let your legs carry you far so you find yourself on a nearby bench, no more than 5 minutes from where Marcus is. You don’t know what to do, nothing feels real. In 30 minutes the night's cool air has appeared and made you shiver so you return to the place that hurts most with a new numbness from the cold.
Inside is Marcus with a few bags packed.
“I was worried, I texted you but,” he motions to your phone left on the counter.
“Sorry,” you say quietly, “lost track of time. Have you got what you need?”
“Uh… yeah…”
You nod, “when did you want to get the rest of your things?” This was really happening.
“Um, I’m not too sure yet but within the week for sure, if that’s okay?”
“Of course, not like I’ll be anywhere else,” you laugh coldly.
“I’m really sorry-…”
“Don’t. Don’t be, I- I want you to be happy so… don’t worry.”
Marcus begins to make his way towards the door with his bags, “I’ll text you about my things.”
“Of course,” you say with a sad smile and with that… he leaves.
The night is a bit of a blur, at first, you were in a mixed state of denial and numbness but at one point you were too tired to hold yourself together and you broke. You ended up laying down on the floor, the bed and the couch having too many memories of him. You don’t sleep and not just because the ground is uncomfortable.
At 6 am panic sets in. You can’t live here, you have to move. You open your phone and begin rapidly planning your future, taking screenshots and sending emails. Just like you have your whole life, you’re left to go it alone, to depend on no one but yourself, working yourself into the ground and then working some more. As heartbreaking and frustrating as it is, you also know one more thing about yourself: no matter what, you always get to the finish line, and you can depend on yourself.
—-4days later—-
You’ve spent all your free time packing and searching for your future. On your days off you’ve gone to different homes and renting spaces and neighbourhoods to see what could be a good fit. You find an apartment near your workplace that’s decent. It’s small but it’s just you so… it’ll work. It’s clean and safe and you can afford it which is all you can really ask for. You’ve been so busy you haven’t had time to grieve, or in other words, you haven’t allowed yourself to grieve by burying yourself in other things.
You’re signing the lease when your phone buzzes in your pocket.
It’s a text from Marcus that reads: ‘I can pick my stuff up tonight or tomorrow if tonight is too late of notice.’
You text him it’s fine and set to meet at 5 pm.
You get back to your place and begin packing, not only your stuff but Marcus’s as well. You try not to get sentimental about packing the things you once shared but tears escape nonetheless. You try to lessen the pain by forcing yourself to get as much packing done as possible, the sooner you can get out of this place, the better.
This place hurts to live in now, it feels like you’re living with a ghost. You yearn for Marcus to return but the old Marcus, the ghost of him . You’re constantly bombarded with flashbacks of happy moments between the two of you. That wasn’t the worst of it though. The worst was seeing what could have been. Walking into the kitchen and seeing the two of you attempting a new recipe together. Going to do laundry and seeing a new detergent that Marcus bought because it smelt nice. Going to bed and seeing an older you and Marcus reading comfortably in that same bed. It was like memories you hadn't yet created… and now never would. That hurt the most. These illusions make you want to run back into Marcus’s arms and make them a reality, but this reminds you of the second worst reminder: you never wanted to leave Marcus’s arms… Marcus wanted to leave yours.
You’re folding extra linens when there's a knock at your door. You know it’s Marcus so you just tell him to let himself in.
How weird that the two of you used to have keys to this place and enter with the relief of having finished the day and being able to see each other. And now, one of you has to knock, one of you is now a stranger and the other can’t bear living in these four walls.
Marcus walks in as you finish folding the item in hand, placing it in a box. He stops in his tracks just as quickly as he entered. He takes in the state of what was once his home. A lot of decorations and non-essential furnishings have been stripped off and gathered near the front door, along with boxes, more than was necessary for his stuff.
“What’s uh- what’s going on?” he asks confused.
“Packing,” you say quick, almost crudely.
“You’re moving?”
“Yeah,” you take a breath and finally stop and look to Marcus, “I just can’t live here being reminded-...” you can’t finish. Marcus looks to the ground nodding,
“Right, right.”
You walk towards a pile of what looks like miscellaneous items, “I just don’t know how to divvy this stuff,” you explain motioning to the pile.
Marcus takes a closer look at the pile and understands the pile, it’s items you got together. Most were pretty material except one, on the side lay a folded blanket, the fleece tie blanket the two of you made together. Each of you picked a fleece pattern and then the two of you sat on the living room floor and laid them out atop each other, made the appropriate cuts and lastly, tied them together. The blanket would find its home as a throw blanket on the couch that the two of you often used when cuddling together during movie night, date night, or just because. That breaks Marcus’s heart, and it’s then that he takes in the four walls that he’ll never see again, the place that made him so happy, that this part of his life is ending. But he did this, he doesn’t have the right to be heartbroken, this was his decision, his choice.
“Um I don’t think I need any of it,” he says quietly.
“Okay, well if you don’t want it I’m donating it, I’ve already taken what I need,”
“The blanket,” Marcus nearly yells, he says it so quickly like he was afraid it was gonna disappear before his eyes.
You notice there’s something in the tone of his voice but are too tired and broken to really care or process it.
“Okay,” you say while handing it to him.
Giving him the blanket fills you with heartbreak and relief. This was one of the items that hurt most to have to pack away and the pain it caused told you you couldn’t keep it. It not only held the memories of making it but the browsing of the fabric store together, Marcus choosing the most god-awful patterns he could find claiming it was his choice, the dozens of nights spent asleep on the couch after unintentionally falling asleep, and thousands of minutes spent under it.
Marcus feels every one of those minutes through the threads. Minutes he didn’t think would end, certainly not so suddenly. As he runs his hands over the material the memories run through his mind, memories he assumed he’d continue making with you throughout your mortal lives.
“Is that all?” Your voice breaks him from his thoughts
‘You’ his brain thinks, “Uh no, that should do it.”
You nod. You have so many questions for him but the pain in your chest and hurt sob stuck in your throat won’t let you ask. Was it something I did? Why wasn’t I enough? I tried so hard. You knew asking wouldn’t help ease the pain no matter the answer he gave you, even if he apologized and ran into your arms the damage was already done.
You quietly help Marcus take his stuff to his car. Emotionally you’re numb but your brain is screaming at you that this is the end.
“Thanks,” Marcus breathes when you place the last of his things down.
“No problem,” you turn to walk away, returning to the four walls that allow you to cry in peace but turn back to him.
“Marcus?”
“Yeah?” he looks at you with hopeful eyes.
“I hope the two of you are happy,” you walk away before he can say anything or see the tears that fall. Marcus is left standing on the sidewalk with his things in his arms realizing he’s just made the biggest mistake of his life, and there's nothing he can do to fix it.