Chapter Text
He’d been staring at the wall for the past half hour.
Insomnia was not something unknown to Marvin. He considered it a factor of his daily routine.
He was sitting on the edge of his bed, feet against the carpet, hands braced against the mattress. His fingers massaged the plush foam in an idle movement.
The clock kept ticking louder. He still felt a little nauseous.
He could still feel her hands running down his back, her hot breath all too warm against his neck. He'd squeezed his eyes sharply shut and waited for her to peel herself off of him. He'd showered, incessantly scrubbing at his skin, the soap lathering up and gathering at his feet.
The clock’s ticking echoed in the quiet of the room, an insistent and never-ending repetition of the same thing.
Unchanging. Stuck. It’s simply the way it was built.
Trina shuffled around behind him, stifling whatever stinging sat behind his eyes.
She had a way of looking at people.
If her gaze were something you could hold within your hands, the intensity would seep out from between your fingers. You could feel her eyes boring into your skull.
“Marvin?”
Her voice was soft, sweet, and riddled with sleep, and the last thing he wanted to hear.
The word hung heavy between them. Marvin's inner tension protruded outward into the way he mumbled his response.
“Go back to sleep.” He replied softly.
He slouched forward, now holding his face in his hands. Calloused fingertips pressed against the temples of his skull.
If he squeezed hard enough, he could probably break through the skin and tangle his fingers into the strands of his nervous system.
He let out a long sigh. The blankets shifted once more, and his silent hope that his wife had just turned over and done as he'd asked her was shattered as he felt it.
Her slender hand was gently stroking his back, following the curve of his spine.
His throat tightened, along with his fingers.
“Baby,” Marvin glanced back over his shoulder at her. She had propped herself up on one of her arms, brown curls falling gently against her pale shoulders.
He imagined he had a much clearer view of her than she did of him. His eyes had adjusted to the dull black of the bedroom.
“Just go back to sleep, okay?”
His request felt empty, along with the term of endearment. It rolled off his tongue as naturally as he had trained it to do.
Trina's eyes were set on him for a moment longer before she seemed to find herself and dropped her hand from his back. “Goodnight.” She offered him, before turning onto her side, her back facing the man.
His blank stare found its favourite spot on the wall once again.
Her lack of conscious presence in his wallowing was somewhat of a comfort.
God forbid she sees him like this. It would only lead to more questions. More insistence on conversation, which was frankly unnecessary.
How his fingers itched to hold onto the sort of figure he’d dream about. Even just lying beside him.
Just for a night.