-> summary: after months of being apart, a familiar face shows up at your apartment, in need of help and full of apologies.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Months. It had been months since you had seen his face. You had awoken to find him not where he should be. Not in your shared bed. His clothes, his bags, all gone. It was as though he disappeared. At first you suspected you had done something wrong, but the two of you had been married for long enough to be completely open with one another. It couldn't be you. It had to be something else, surely. But at the moment, it felt as though you'd never find out. Marc hadn't responded to your calls, texts, even your fucking emails. No word from him, no letter, none of his contacts knew where he was either.
Fuck.
Marc did stupid shit. But never this stupid. He never took off like this out of nowhere. Especially without you. You'd worked together as a unit, bounced ideas off one another, told each other everything. So why the fuck did he just up and leave so suddenly? It didn't make any sense. You tried not to let it get to you, but even after months of him not contacting you or letting you know that he was even alive, he still lived in your mind at every waking moment. Even when you weren't awake, the fucker would be in your dreams.
For years the two of you had been working together in Egypt, searching for that damned scarab. Long restless nights spent hunched over documents, researching the area, not even having time for one another. Hell, you hadn't actually fucked in a few weeks prior to him leaving, too busy on searching. Not that it was all that comfortable to fuck in Egypt, it was too hot and the two of you would get too sweaty. That's when you resorted to the shower. It was truly a god send. No. You weren't going to think about it. About him. He left, without a trace. You still loved him, you couldn't deny that, but as soon as you saw him again you were going to be so pissed with him.
Making your way down the streets of the city you were posted up in, you breathed in the cool air. It was dark now, after your time exploring the city, you'd lost track of time and not even noticed the twinkly stars coating the night sky until you were back outside. Marc often did say you had no concept of time. It was the main reason he blamed your showers lasting so long. Not that it made you speed up your showers, but he didn't care. You pulled out the keys to your apartment just outside the site where you and- where you were digging. Unlocking the door, you stepped inside, double checking to lock it again behind you. Always be cautious. That's what Marc often told you.
Having the aircon blasting was your first port of call, needing to feel the cool air hit your skin after a whole day of being out in the blaring sun. You felt sticky, your clothes practically latched onto your skin, the stray hairs that had fallen from where you had tied it out of your face now stuck to the base of your neck. You felt gross, to say the least. Nothing a cold shower wouldn't fix. Stepping around your half packed bags, you made your way to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your face was covered in a thin sheen, the sweat glistening on your forehead prominently. You would call it disgusting. Marc would have called you shiny.
