mrvandaan

[mrvandaan]

CHARLES.

“You’re awake, though.” Time straddled the boundary between night and morning. It came with the territory, some natural law, to keep their voices low and hushed, as if there was anyone around that could possibly be woken up, as if anything louder would awaken more pain within Tammy, or as if Charles had fallen asleep in his chair and whispers could keep him dreaming of his angel. “Five more minutes?” he attempted to tease, voice too soft for it to really deliver while his thumb grazed over the hairline, stroking at the edge of the forehead.

The movement faltered at the apology, having the undesired effect that Tammy surely had meant, wrenching Charles’ stomach at the sound of it. It flashed across his face briefly, the unexpected nature of it, as if it was a crack in the reality he wanted to believe they still lived in, if only for a moment of exhausted delusion. But what could they be without truth? Without knowing everything? To pretend that things were fine when they clearly weren’t? He had done enough of that already, brushing things aside, ignoring others.

His fingers slipped away, joining his other, molding to the other side of Tammy’s loosely to draw his fingers over his. “I think I need to know everything that happened,” he spoke again, tone favoring more of a request than command, an ask for something he knew before he tried to shut out of his mind. “And who did this to you.”

A yawn shook Tammy’s shoulders; the movement tugged at his ribs, sparking pain through them. But, finally, it was hardly more than the baseline ache, just a twinge that drew nothing more than a wince from him. He blinked sleepily up at Charles, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Mmm, I won’t be for much longer.” Yet he wanted to. Wanted to steal as much time with Charles as he could, as long as his love was willing. “As many more minutes as you want, darling,” he murmured, simply glad that they could have some time together.

His chest tightened again when Charles’ hand faltered, a bolt of anxiety rushing through it. Try as he might, he could never get away from the fact that he’d ruined this, he’d poisoned their relationship with Sebastian’s cigarette smoke. He should’ve asked Charles’ permission before punishing himself -- should’ve offered that opportunity to Charles. Then it wouldn’t be someone else staining his skin. But he knew Charles would refuse, and somebody had to purge him of his sins. 

Swallowing, Tammy gave Charles a hesitant nod. The truth had to come out, after all -- he just didn’t know what was going to happen to them after he told it. “Everything? Because -- it starts before I even came here.” He didn’t know how he could even start explaining it all, but he knew he had to. If he had a chance of keeping Charles. “I think you need to know it, though.”

[mrvandaan]

CHARLES.

His voice sounded worn, born from a face that looked as tired as what Charles felt his must have appeared to be. Even after hours of sleep, Tammy should have gone back to get more, shown in how his other hand stroked back the blonde curls. “Hey,” he mirrored with a small smile, relief in a single breath carrying it forward as more strands were swept back. No matter how he sounded, no matter how he looked, he was still /here/, and every transgression he felt had been done to him on his side only felt magnified, seeing him in a state that must have been brought on by them.

He leaned into the hand, twisting softly to catch his thumb with his lips, brushing at it with a gentle kiss. A laugh coasted past the mouth, giving credence to the description he already knew. “I might have to borrow some of your makeup to look half-way decent,” he attempted to joke before bowing forward, further into the palm against him while his own hand squeezed the one staying to the bed. “In the room?” His eyes drifted to the clock, thinking over the time before drawing back to him. “On and off… a few hours or so. Tomas was here, too, to be fair. I can’t claim to be your only visitor.”

The soft touch of Charles’ fingers brushing his hair away was enough to settle Tammy, to soothe at least some of his gnawing anxieties. It was gentle and repetitive, the perfect backdrop as he looked up to Charles, eyes brimming with adoration. He could hardly even believe he was here, let alone holding his hand -- let alone kissing him, even that fleeting graze of lips enough to make his heart swell in his chest. There was no universe in which he deserved it, yet still he was all but crying out for it. Needing to know that they still had a chance, forgiveness was still within reach.

“You should sleep, darling,” he murmured, trying to work out from that vague description how long he’d been out. Charles looked like he’d been awake a lot longer; Tammy could hardly stomach the thought of the stress he’d caused, the betrayal, throwing himself away at the feet of someone who made him feel insignificant again. He hadn’t realised until too late, that wasn’t what he wanted. This was what he wanted, Charles’ gentle touch, the gilded moments they’d shared. This was what he’d ruined, and it just slipped out, raw and grating --

“I’m so sorry.”

[mrvandaan]

CHARLES.

Charles felt like he had been walking on a tightrope the whole night, mind attempting the hardest balancing act with one false step landing him in a pit of snakes. Stay awake or fall asleep and risk missing Tammy waking up. Stay outside in the waiting room or eyebrows will be raised, his father will be called, life will be tough and nearly impossible for them both. He liked to think he found the balance, sneaking in when the payoff was right, silence bought but mind far from peace.

Thoughts kept him awake far more effectively than even Tomas’ coffee. The cup had gone cold, sat next to him with still half left inside, no appetite for the rest, not when his head kept reeling over the events. His elbow was propped up on the arm, back of his fingers resting at his lips, driving himself crazy on the inside. Who did this? Who was to blame? Why wasn’t he told? If anything were to happen to him, if he had been brought in too late, how could he ever forgive himself? Forgive his friend? How could life even go on beyond that?

His eyes had closed, head tipped down just a little as he tried to swallow back what was spinning further out of control, only for him to snap his vision back to his beloved the moment he heard him.

“Angel.” It was like one word was a drawstring, tugging him into leaning forward, arms against the bed, hand desperately wrapped around the blond’s. His exhaustion had settled into his eyes, tinted pink around the edges of those brown irises. “How do you feel?–Do you need me to get you anything?”

“Hey,” Tammy sighed, hand giving Charles’ as reassuring a squeeze as his exhausted body could muster. His voice was painfully hoarse, perhaps from coughing, perhaps from disuse -- it didn’t matter, because Charles was here, the soft pet name soothing some of his anxieties. It only aggravated his guilt, though, the ugly emotion rushing back, whispering in his granddad’s voice that he didn’t deserve this. He’d forfeited his claim to Charles’ love the moment he’d let Sebastian leave a mark on his skin. The moment he’d let Sebastian into his mind.

He pushed Charles’ questions aside with a shake of his head, blinking up at him with concern. Hand slipping out to cup his face, thumb gently tracing his cheekbone. Tammy had always been good at reading faces, and exhaustion was plain in every detail of Charles’ face, only stirring the embers of guilt. “You look tired..” he murmured, barely noticing how he could hardly keep his own eyes open. That didn’t matter; nothing mattered except his love. “How long have you been here?”

[mrvandaan]

@charlesirons​

Tammy’s awareness had faded, the only constant being pain; images flashed past him, the bright lights of the hospital, people crowding around, coughing up blood and sobbing until the painkillers finally kicked in. Then, blackness -- dreams swirling in and out, his granddad’s voice, the old man’s calloused hand combing through his hair. Tugging him back to reality, in a way, until he was hazily aware of the bed beneath him, the scratchiness of the IV in his arm. The baseline ache of his ribs, even with painkillers.

Eventually, he managed to open his eyes, almost shutting them again at the burst of pain from the harsh light above him. It took Tammy a while to recognise his surroundings, glancing around at the beeping monitors -- eyes settling on Charles, sat next to him.

Just that simple sight knocked the breath from his lungs. He’d been sure Charles would’ve left him -- he deserved to be left, betraying Charles’ trust, breaking himself even more until he was only good for throwing away. Yet Charles was right there -- Tammy couldn’t help reaching out for him, desperate for even a scrap of affection, an assurance that he wouldn’t be thrown away.

“Darling?”

[mrvandaan]

SEBASTIAN.

It was not within Sebastian’s modus operandi to offer death so freely. It was too easy, a true waste of what anatomy had to offer with a galaxy of nerves to tamper with and organs to rework. A threat of death, though, that was simply foreplay, a type of ending that could only come from an assortment of methods inflicted, where at long last the victim could beg for it, only to still be denied for as long as possible.

Black eyes were not distracted, seeing the twitch to the scalpel in the peripheral vision, wondering where it would try to strike. Feeling what was already around his leg, the target was obvious. In Tammy’s gasping trajectory, Sebastian’s hand dipped down, wrapping around the hand that held the scalpel, squeezing.

“Sterilization is essential to any operation, Van Daan,” he spoke, bending the fingers back in means to loosen the weapon before plucking it free. The instrument was now held in his grasp, twisting it once, the implication clear until it wasn’t. The end of the lit cigarette drew over the small blade, the scorching ash drawing over the cadaver’s blood, the excess flicked over the blond as he stood up. The boot remained on his chest, giving enough to catch a breath before drawing back down. “You act as though death is the worst punishment,” he mused as his sleeve rolled up to his elbow, revealing the numerous scars of his youth and some more recent along his forearm before taking the scalpel and slicing in without a single wince. A fist formed, letting the blood trickle off, held over the one beneath to drop at his lips.

“Creativity alludes you.”

Tammy was almost certain he was going to die there; the one thing that gave him pause was what his granddad said about men who killed for fun, not necessity. They liked to play with their food before eating it. All he could do was hope Sebastian was of the same breed, preferring to make his absolute power clear before going for the kill.

He flinched as Sebastian leant down, knowing he should’ve just opened the femoral artery at the first chance he got. This was his punishment -- the punishment he always deserved, for abandoning his granddad, for falling in love again, for being so foolish as to walk right into the spider’s web and hope he made it out alive. Wide, terrified eyes gazed up at Sebastian as his breath came in ragged pants, the pain in his ribs indescribable as he kept struggling under the boot. Get out, that was all he had to do, find another weapon, anything sharp enough -- panic was beginning to take over as he coughed again, vision guttering, blood staining his lips. Blood and ashes, burrowing into his bare skin, forcing out desperate little yelps.

Sebastian’s words almost weren’t heard at all, as Tammy fought to remain in control of his terrified mind. The scars, though -- he saw them clearly, something akin to revulsion, and perhaps the barest glimmer of pity, twisting in his stomach. Were they punishment? No, said his granddad’s voice. A man like this can never punish himself. 

The blood trickled into his mouth, sharp and tangy. Tammy tried to spit it out, but he couldn’t, the pain in his chest so agonising that the motion became another bloody cough. “Please --” there was only one appeal he knew how to make, glancing at the mutilated corpse on the table. Slipping into Dutch, the only way he knew how truly beg -- memory spoke of being rocked in his granddad’s arms, a migraine pulsing behind his eyes. “Please, we aren’t done with her--”

[mrvandaan]

CHARLES.

Tammy explained, but did it explain? If anything, it confused Charles more so. As much as he listened, as much as his attention couldn’t be more focused on anything but what his angel was saying to him, there still was a communication barrier. It showed on his face from the way he looked at him, and the confirmed by how he drew his lips to the side of his head, giving a faint kiss to his temple. “You don’t need to be punished. As long as I’m alive, you’re never going to get punished.”

The threshold to the infirmary was crossed, the posture changing only slightly, keenly aware of the set of eyes on them, and yet what care could he offer them when his own eyes still drifted to Tammy? “We can talk more after you get better, okay? I’ll be waiting for you as long as it takes.”

Charles’ words should’ve been reassuring, should’ve been comforting -- and they were. But they also split Tammy’s world apart. Never: it was something he wasn’t able to consider, his life had been built on the tenuous exchange of punishment and love. The latter could only exist with the former keeping him in check, making sure he was good enough -- yet there was Charles, breaking down that untouchable paradigm. Promising love without punishment, a kiss without an accompanying bruise. It was almost too much for Tammy’s pounding head to comprehend.

Then again, perhaps he’d lost Charles’ love. Even with promises of waiting, all Tammy knew was that the doors had opened, that he’d be handed off to some faceless doctor and Charles would leave. Run, probably, run away from the broken thing that had shattered so badly in his arms, had hurt him even when trying to atone. Tammy should let that happen, accept the consequences -- but he couldn’t. Instead, he desperately clung to Charles’ shirt, burying his face in his chest and begging, “Please don’t leave me.”

[mrvandaan]

CHARLES.

It didn’t make sense to Charles. It felt like there was so much context missing that if the injuries had been anywhere near the head, it would have been assumed the words were from a delirious state of mind. Though as much pain Tammy must have been in at the moment, the voice was clear, the meaning behind it was known, just not to the actor.

“Are you in trouble?” he asked, grasping at straws. The reality of the situation was so far from his reach that it couldn’t even be seen. He was in the dark with only a desperate need to keep Tammy safe pushing him. “If it has anything to do with money, it’s taken care of. Who are you in debt to? I’ll make it right with you.”

Tammy glanced up at Charles, searching, hoping his words made some kind of sense -- the twisting motion sent another bolt of pain jolting through his ribs, tearing a pained gasp from his lips. His head dropped back down against Charles’ chest as he bit back tears, relying on the one sound he could find undisturbed comfort in: the steady rhythm of his love’s heart, a reminder that this was all real.

It was clear from Charles’ words that he hadn’t understood; Tammy forced himself to look up again, biting down a whimper as he shook his head. He had to make Charles understand, otherwise he’d lose him. “No, no, it’s not money, it’s -- it’s my granddad, it was a long time ago, and it wasn’t -- you’re different, but I can’t -- I can’t betray him.” He wanted to, he was desperate to let Johannes van Daan rest, but he’d made a promise. One he’d already broken, but it was the only part of his past he could hold onto with any kind of certainty. “I wasn’t allowed to love.” To love you, but he couldn’t bear to say it. “I had to be punished.”

[mrvandaan]

CHARLES.

“You’re mine, though,” he protested in a murmur, low and with the sound brushing at the golden strands. Tammy’s face against his chest was a familiar feeling. Even in its tattered form, Charles clung onto it, enough to gently lean his cheek against the side of his head. “What happens to you matters to me. Don’t you know that?” Maybe he didn’t. And whose fault was that? The guilt wormed its way into his heart, feeding in every ventricle of the heart before it swallowed the organ whole at the next words that fell from the blond’s lips.

“Angel.” He couldn’t have heard him right, but that was just a lie to hide behind. There was nothing in his ears besides Tammy’s voice, everything else blocked out in the dead of night through abandoned hallways. He fought the urge to hold him tighter, knowing it would only bring more pain against the broken ribs, settling for his forehead to nuzzle at his temple, trying in vain to meet his buried eyes. “Why would you ever think that?” he breathed against his ear, chest clutching. “You could never deserve this, I promise you.”

It had been a long time since those words, you’re mine, had made Tammy feel safe -- not since kneeling beside his granddad’s hospital bed, begging him not to go, had those words been anything more than the drunken ramblings of the men who’d left their marks on his body. But with Charles it was different, with Charles you’re mine felt less a mark of possession, but a mark of reassurance. Even if Tammy knew he didn’t deserve the love with which it was said, didn’t deserve someone caring about what happened to him, he nodded anyway -- because regardless of whether he deserved it, he wanted it. He wanted to be good enough for Charles.

The pet name made him glance up again, despite how the movement aggravated his ribs; it was hope, hope that he hadn’t burnt his bridge to safety. Hearing the hurt in Charles’ voice only made the guilt twist deeper, he’d been trying to cleanse himself for Charles, but all he’d succeeded in doing was hurting his darling -- Tammy almost pulled away from the contact he would never be worthy of. “I -- I don’t know.” He’d just always deserved it, ever since his granddad wasn’t there to keep him from messing up. “I had a debt to pay.”

[mrvandaan]

SEBASTIAN.

The blond was watched, as every specimen Sebastian had selectively plucked from otherwise obscurity was. He was practically under a microscope, measuring how he reacted to certain pressure points. The coughs were heard, the tightness of the chest felt beneath his foot as he leaned in further to stifle it more, even as the other choked on the borrowed smoke. It tumbled gracelessly from his lips while those blue eyes grew in and out of focus, as if that pair of black ones was siphoning off every ounce of the soul that inhabited them.

He begged, and all that was met in return was the man in black to take a drag off of the cigarette he had previously shared, gaze piercing through the grey cloud.

“Perhaps you’ll succumb to death, then,” he mused idly. “Unfortunate that you fainted, Van Daan, and CPR was unable to resuscitate you. Not even the smoke in my own lungs could bring you back to life. Tsk.” Truth was only supported by evidence, and Sebastian always had plenty of it on his side to manipulate to whatever truth he wanted. Cracked lungs in an attempt to play a god, the trajectory of a fall that was predicated on a weakened mind, even the touch of his saliva from the cigarette traced on his lips. The signs were there that he had the best intentions in the face of unfortunate circumstances.

“Tell me,” he went on, “who should I extend the invitation to when I perform your autopsy?”

All Tammy could do was lie there, torn between yearning for the past and the aching realisation that he’d come to love the present more. He could hardly scrape in a full breath without agonising pain shooting through his ribs, so he settled for shallow-breathing, gazing up at Sebastian with awe, fear and too-late anger. This wasn’t the past, he realised; his granddad had loved him, as much as a man like that could, had never crushed Tammy beneath his boot, only guided his hand. His granddad had sheltered him, would never have orchestrated his death in the horribly accurate detail he could see Sebastian putting together. His aneurysm was on the edge, it would be easy to blame it. Cracked ribs from CPR, the cigarette forensic evidence, the closest Sebastian would come to kissing him.

Johannes van Daan would’ve killed Sebastian, Tammy realised. Would’ve done to him what he did to Rebecca, paralysed him and picked him apart; Sebastian deserved it. Only that thought gave Tammy the strength to bring his attention back to reality, trying to fight the boot that kept him down, only to send another rush of pain through his lips, forcing out a ragged gasp. He realised the scalpel was still loose between his shaking fingers; there was something he could do, something his granddad would’ve wanted him to do.

So he tightened his grip, holding against Sebastian’s leg. Trying to find the femoral artery, any kind of leverage that would free him. “Don’t --” it took him a while to get the words out, struggling for breath. “Don’t invite anyone. I’m not dying here.”

[mrvandaan]

CHARLES.

He could never think of him as /broken/, but being invited into Tammy’s heart, the desires attached, there was no denying that there were pieces that didn’t make sense to Charles. He shrugged it off as being from a different world, a world where everything had to meet the demands that exceeded perfection, lavished with wealth and a standard principle that did not ruffle the feathers of society’s standards. Now, he was left with uncertainty, and what he could cling onto was Tammy’s response, the confirmations that he had been searching for. Why didn’t it feel like it made everything right?

Brown eyes caught sight of the blue for a moment before nodding, barely any motion to the action, just enough to say that he had heard him. And then those eyes flickered away, drawn over his shoulder to catch sight of where they were headed while his lips wet, still digesting everything as he walked. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked quietly. The feeling in his gut gave him hint why the words before didn’t heal these open wounds. “Why did you hide it from me?”

The brief moment of eye contact was enough to wrench Tammy’s heart, desperate for the comfort he knew he didn’t deserve. He wanted to cry, feeling hot tears burning his eyes, a painful lump forming in his throat, but he couldn’t. It would only make his ribs ache worse, and besides, he didn’t have the right to. Not when the tentative hurt was all too evident in Charles’ voice, not when he was right, Tammy had betrayed him. Had messed up -- there didn’t seem to be any world in which he could do the right thing, only stumble from mistake to mistake.

Maybe it was because he was wrong. Tammy already knew this was his punishment, clinging to Charles as each step jostled his ribs, sending fresh agony jolting through him, but his mind had already begun to drift, thinking of every past transgression. He almost forgot that Charles had asked him another question, snapping back to reality with a rush of shame. There he was again, failing, Unable to follow a simple command. “I-- I didn’t want to worry you.” It came out small, pathetic, muffled into Charles’ chest. “I thought I deserved it,” he added, even more lost and broken. Then, in Dutch: “I think I do.”

[mrvandaan]

CHARLES.

“Tammy…” The name had been caressed across his tongue countless amounts of times, a name that belonged to someone so beloved, so treasured, and now it was coming out as a synonym for stop. Nostalgia still could not detach, though, nails in too deep for it to ever come across as cold, especially in the face of the sobs it tried to combat. “I don’t want you to think about that. It doesn’t…” He couldn’t finish, could never finish a lie like that, to say that it didn’t matter when his body could quake at the mere thought of Tammy throwing his heart away. Eyes closed, a hopeless and subconscious idea that it would give him a sanctuary from the pain, but there was no escape.

His hands dipped down, finding the hips he had molded around in nothing short of ecstasy. Would there be a time he could reach that bliss again? It was a hollow answer that echoed back, only interrupted by Tammy’s words, making his sight return to him, marred with confusion as much as hurt. “Were you forced?” His own breath could have strangled his lungs, at a standstill, wrenched out of him when the gasp slipped out of the blond’s chest. Charles’ grip tightened in time, catching him as the arms wrapped around his neck before hoisting him up. His nerves tightened, anticipating another agonizing exhale from him, unavoidable but no easier to swallow.

“If you… wanted it, it’s–” his tongue grew dry, eyes turning away before slipping back as he took a step to take him. “I promise I won’t ask you again, as long as you tell me one way or another.”

Tammy glanced up at Charles, just the speaking of his name enough to have him desperately hoping. Did Charles not understand, he’d do anything to make up for it, whatever punishment he chose to inflict, Tammy could take it. He took the next words as instructions, nodding hurriedly, knowing he couldn’t stop thinking about it -- he’s going to leave me, he’s going to leave me, I can’t handle being alone. But at the very least, it made him shut up, focusing on just maintaining steady, shallow breaths.

He wanted to answer, he really did, but the sudden agony of being lifted was blinding, filling his vision with white. Wrenching another gasp, a pitiful half-scream from him -- but Tammy forced it down. If this was his punishment then he would endure it. Gasping for breath, he tried to blink the pain away, still well aware that Charles had asked him a question. “I--” the words died in his throat, swept away by another rush of pain at the jostling of his broken rib. “Yes.” In its most distilled form, that was the truth. He hadn’t wanted Sebastian’s boot on his chest, hadn’t wanted Sebastian’s smoke forced down his throat. “I didn’t want it. I want you.” Ohgodithurts. Tammy just wanted it to stop, but he had to bear it, for Charles. “I only want you, darling.”

[mrvandaan]

TOMAS.

The fear was rising as the situation seemed more and more dire with every second, questioning whether he made the right decision for his friend, whether he was just afraid of Tammy hating him if he defied his requests and brought him to the hospital instead. Tomas frowned with worry, gently lifting the tissue to try and help clean up the blood before it started to stain, “we’re almost there..” he repeated again, to comfort, to motivate, probably both of them. He tried to take the shift in weight a good sign, Tammy started to stand to himself, but he still tightened his grip, well aware of how Tammy was and how it could all simply crumble if he was just trying to prove something. “maak je geen zorgen.. you can thank me later,” he muttered as they make a turn, just a hallway down to the doctor’s office. Hopefully the conversation helps keep Tammy a lil distracted from the pain, but he wasn’t really sure what other advice he could give his friend. “He’s dangerous, for me and for you..” Tomas started but he softened, seeing where he was coming from, “but– I get it. I didn’t know that he was in your department.” From the brief time he got to know him. “I’m not really sure.. what we could do, but- we’ll figure it out.”

Almost there. Through the haze of Tammy’s brain, the words struck a different chord: he was almost there, lost in the purgatory of a half-formed self, still gasping for the light. He’d been so close, feeling like he was finally ready to let the past rest. Let it decompose. Then, Sebastian, dragging him back. “He’s not, technically.” Perhaps there was a flash of anger there, Sebastian had no right to intrude into Tammy’s little sanctuary, one of the places in which he’d been finding himself. The only one where he really felt free to -- not quite speak to his granddad, but puzzle out their relationship, try to separate the love from the pain, the hand tightened around his throat. Now that hand was tighter than ever, twisting his ribs as well, the pain reducing his breathing to short, shallow gasps. But they were almost there, at last there was a wall for him to lean on, stumbling the last few steps to the door. The old anxieties were resurfacing, not a hospital, please, yet even they had to bow to the pain. Any chance to make it stop -- though suddenly, Tammy realised it wasn’t just that. It was Tomas’ words, the comfort of a hand on his back, giving him the courage to keep going. “I guess -- we will, won’t we?”

[mrvandaan]

TOMAS.

They paused from their walk the moment Tammy began to cough, Tomas rubbing his back lightly, nervously glancing around their surroundings to get their bearings straight. His eyes widen seeing the blood spill past his lips, trying to fumble for tissue in his bag, handing his friend a piece, “you don’t have to talk, we’re almost there..” Every fiber in him is screaming to send him to the hospital, yet he knew Tammy would never let him do that. Plus, they were still under some stupid curfew, does that mean they couldn’t even leave for emergencies? One step at a time, to the doctor first, and maybe they can call the ambulance for them. While it was a nice sentiment - Tomas would miss him too, having another Dutch around had been more than comforting - he worried more for Tammy if he stayed, at least if he stayed in this status quo. But he managed a smile, to hear that something changed for the better since the last time they had a heart to heart. “It’s not easy trying to find yourself..it’s okay to stumble and take a few steps back.” Tomas was proud of his friend for even managing to shift and figure himself out, he hummed, trying to think of practical things that would help, “maybe you could change departments..?”

Fighting the waves of pain, blinking back tears, trying to steady himself, it was all too much for Tammy to keep up with. He wanted to sit down again, wanted it to stop, even if that meant succumbing to the blackness that nudged at his vision; Tomas only occupied a blurred space in his awareness, the offer of a tissue not even noticed as Tammy tried to wipe the blood away with his hands, only spreading it until his face was stained. Sebastian would be enjoying this -- the thought jumped into his head, accompanied by a cold rush of -- something. Fear, disgust, discomfort, whatever it was, it spurred Tammy to try to take a little more of his own weight, shoulders straightening with resolve. He’d given Sebastian too much to enjoy: even shaking and half-blinded with pain, he wouldn’t concede any more pleasure. Wouldn’t make himself any more of a burden for Tomas. “Dank je.” It came out hoarse and pathetic, but one word meant many: thank you for being a friend to turn to, a shoulder to lean on, for not hating me. “I don’t know, I -- I like the work. The autopsies.” He’d missed it, a scalpel in his hand and a job to do. “I can’t just leave him.” He’ll find another toy; better me than someone else.

[mrvandaan]

TOMAS.

The murmur made him pause on a step, he wasn’t too sure which home Tammy might be referring to, maybe the Netherlands, maybe as simple as home, away from this building that they were locked down in. Tomas certainly would prefer to not be here either. “I wish we weren’t stuck here too,” Tomas said in a low voice, wherever home was, they couldn’t even leave this building. “Tammy- no one should be, you don’t deserve to be punished,” no matter what he might’ve done, Tomas was almost certain he hadn’t. It felt more painful to hear him think Charles should. He had to sigh, hearing the situation. He hadn’t even known that Sebastian was working on that department of Prometheus, not that he knew anything about Sebastian at all, Cora didn’t even seem keen on elaborating to him when they spoke. But if anything, Tammy was staff, not a contract, and maybe there is a way out. “You could.. leave, if you want, you know?” Tomas tried to offer with a shrug, “and– if you want to go back to the Netherlands, I have family in Rotterdam, it’s no Amsterdam but..”

“I --” I do, Tammy almost said, but his breath was stolen by a cough, quickly descending into a fit that sent shafts of agony digging through his ribs, his lungs, the world lurching dangerously around him. Clinging to Tomas for support, he clamped a hand over his mouth, tasting the warm copper of blood rising in his throat, a little seeping past his lips. Godsamme, this was bad, this wasn’t supposed to happen -- panic twisted through his stomach as he tried to wade through the pain and gain control of his breathing again. Eventually, the coughs subsided, replaced by eager gasps of air. “No, I --” Tammy swallowed, his throat raw and tight. “I don’t want to leave. I’d miss you, and Charles, and -- I like who I am here.” Who he was before Sebastian had sunk his claw in, dragging him down an agonisingly familiar path. “I was starting to find myself, I think. Now I don’t know who I am.” Once again, his soul was being laid bare, a y-shaped incision in his chest, the retractors of vulnerability tugging back the flesh and exposing the beating, damaged heart beneath.

[mrvandaan]

TOMAS.

The two Dutchmen were more similar than they ever thought they were in certain aspects, perhaps it was something about the culture that tied them closer together. As different as they are in so many ways, there’s an understanding between them that Tomas was grateful for. He was glad that Tammy seemed to deflate at his comeback, seeing his expression change to something of acceptance, trust. Hopefully he could see his two friends stick it through, considering how cute they were together, how happy they were together. The description crawled up his spine, remembering the conversation about Tammy grandfather, somehow he just couldn’t leave Tammy alone, not after death, not after a talk, now just embodied in someone else. “Hey.. he’s not your grandfather,” Tomas lightly pat Tammy’s arm to pull him out of it, “he shouldn’t be punishing you at all..” Tomas felt the nudge of discomfort, now seeing Sebastian perhaps more disturbing than before when he’s already stabbed Tomas with a fork. “Can you stay away from him?”

That Tammy could agree to, a shaky nod: Sebastian wasn’t anything close. He was all sharp edges, viciousness, he scared Tammy -- of all the things his granddad had done, none of them had directly scared him. Not with the same blinding, primal terror Sebastian gave him. “I want to go home,” he murmured -- yet in the same breath he realised that going home would mean letting go of their friendship. Letting go of Charles, and returning to his failure. There wasn’t really a home to go to anymore. “He should be --” he had a right to now, Tammy had broken the only promise that mattered though Sebastian was the reason for it. “Charles should be.” It was only what he deserved, the only path to redemption he could see. Yet with Sebastian always waiting in the wings, every new body bringing fresh torment, even that path seemed to twist and fade, leading back to hell. “No, he’s -- he’s doing the autopsies with me.” Though they barely passed for autopsies these days, science bowing to mutilation. “He’d find me anyway.”

[mrvandaan]

CHARLES.

One single look of the eyes made Charles’ heart hitch up to the back of his throat, enough of a leap to have his lips part, and when he was assured the organ would remain inside rather than escaping, he closed them slowly. There was too much rambling inside of his skull in the moment for it to filter through his mouth. Refinement forgotten, manners hanging by a thread, only emotions he kept locked out were left floating perfectly intact like a shipwreck that leaves only luggage remaining while passengers are weighed to the bottom of the ocean.

Apologies came in waves, ebbing and flowing, never quite reaching Charles entirely, just enough to lap at his heels in their broken endings. Sorry for what? Did he even want to know /why?/ Did he truly want to learn what else there was that had been hidden from him? Each one grew a little more worry, the weight intensifying before he took in a breath. “I…” /love you, too. So much./ The unspoken words twisted in his stomach, unable to be formed for Tammy to hear back, barely able to deliver a smile to him. It was all that could be done, all that his heart was able to accomplish while it bled out. “You’ll come with me, then?” he asked, hands still clutched around his, gently guiding him up like a porcelain doll.

“I’m not sure this is the right time to talk… about everything,” he offered, giving the escape, the reprieve he thought he was building for him, unknowingly constructing the gallows for them both. Brown eyes glanced back at him, another vice around the ribcage from the sight, and yet unable to look away in time to avoid the tightness from piercing him. “Do you think you could put your hands on my shoulders for me, angel? It might hurt for a moment.”

Tammy glanced up, waiting -- hoping -- for words that never came. I love you; his heart could fill it in, but his mind picked up on the silence even through a haze of pain. He’d done it, then. Ruined it, what they had. The love that had surpassed even that he felt for his granddad, a living, loving man taking the place of a crumbling corpse in Tammy’ s mind. What else did he have left? Only his guilt, only the desperate hope that Charles would accept an obedient tool, a toy, he’d do whatever was asked of him if it meant he was spared even a glance. Nodding, Tammy tried to follow Charles, choking the words out around sobs: I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please don’t leave me.

His steps were painfully uneven, breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps, vision guttering in and out as he nodded. Everything Charles said had to be agreed to, obeyed, yet the truth was bubbling in Tammy’s chest, clawing its way up his throat. “I didn’t want it.” The words came spilling out in a panicked haze; his legs were beginning to give out, he could hardly see, but he had to say it. “I didn’t want it, I wanted to keep our promise, I did--” A gasp of pain cut him off, anxious energy finally succumbing to the agony. Tammy could only nod: again, all he had to offer was his obedience, the scrap of affection evident in the pet name enough to wrench another sob from him. Looping his arms around Charles’ neck only sent another white-hot bolt of pain rushing through him, the world falling away for a brief moment. 

[mrvandaan]

TOMAS.

“So do you..” Tomas nagged back Tammy’s words. Somehow, Tomas’ encounter had to be one of coincidence, of just bad luck, wrong place wrong time. But Tammy’s, it didn’t seem to be the case, it all just felt.. more planned, intentional. Tomas had no intention to ever cross Sebastian’s path again if he could help it, but he wasn’t sure if Tammy could do the same. It felt almost strange, to be given a voice of comfort from his friend in this state, and Tomas flashed a grin, one full of love, “he does,” that was no question nor hesitation to knowing that as truth, there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt of Juno’s love, not anymore, “but- fear.. is irrational, and ugly, isn’t it?” Sometimes it creeps up on you with no basis of reasoning, and you’re just scared. But also incredibly lucky, to even have something to lose. Tomas had to pause in a silence between them as they slowly walked, trying to further understand Tammy’s promises. Promises couldn’t be forced, or feared. “..I’d bet my career he does,” Tomas said with such resolute, he was that sure, when your career meant your life. He didn’t really know what was going on between his two friends, but he knew he could at least answer that question to ease his worries. “It’s not all your fault either, it’s.. Sebastian, isn’t it?”

Seeing Tomas’ smile made Tammy laugh again: there was no doubting how head-over-heels his friend must be, the love written all over his face and near-sickeningly evident in his voice. Juno must be very lucky -- yet Tammy was lucky too, he had Charles, he had their sticky morning kisses and late-night conversations over a bottle of wine. Looking at it like that, he could believe what Tomas said about fear, pushing the doubt to the farthest corner of his mind and nodding as best he could. “But--” The excuse fizzled out, something in him wanted to cling to the hope. Cling to what he had with Charles, something he’d never had. Love on equal terms. Perhaps Tomas was just giving him a way out, but Tammy found himself nodding, desperate to believe. “He-- he reminds me of my granddad.” But worse, empty in a way completely foreign to him. Sebastian was a black hole, sucking Tammy dry for his own amusement, completely void of the affection that kept him at his granddad’s heel like a loyal dog. “I needed him, I needed him to punish me, but -- he’s not doing it right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to be--”