Marc lays back on the bed with a sigh, feet still flat on the floor and arms spread from footboard to headboard.

God, today almost killed him.

He can hear the shower running in the bathroom, and you, his beloved partner, singing over one of your playlists.

He lays there, trying to take in the tranquility of the moment.

Marc closes his eyes, letting the sounds of the running water and the muffled music wash over him. He allows his muscles to loosen, the tension from the day's fight slowly draining away.

At this moment, nothing else matters.

He doesn't mind waiting for you to come out; he likes the idea of you enjoying your shower, and the sound of your (admittedly off-key) singing is oddly relaxing.

The world outside might be chaotic and dangerous, but here in this moment, he's safe.

Soon enough, the water and music go off, and you step out, a towel wrapped tight around your damp torso.

Coming into the bedroom, you light up when you see him—And you know it's him; because you just have this knack for knowing who's fronting.

"Honey! When did you come in? I never heard you."

Marc opens his eyes, a tired grin crossing his face when he sees you in all your glory.

"Only a little while ago, baby. Didn't want to disturb your singing."