#🎵 ↝ Frenchie ↝ ic

[petrifiedcrange]

❝ The ship can't survive without its unicorn, Iz, ❞ Frenchie says quietly yet matter-of-factly as he wipes Izzy's feverish brow with a cool cloth, lingering for a moment to brush a loose strand off before turning to the side to soak the warmed up cloth in the bowl of cool water again, both his voice and gestures an aching mix of exhaustion, sadness and tenderness, ❝ We'll crash and burn before we ever reach another shore. ❞

There are tears welling in his eyes and he doesn't want Izzy to see them, doesn't want to distress his already overtaxed system even more, so he takes an extra moment to wring the cloth over the bowl while blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears.

And yet, a sob weasels its way into his words as he adds, almost an afterthought ( that sounds far more bitter than it has any right to be ):

❝ I thought you knew that. ❞

[ OPEN for Izzy post-S2 because ouizzy is something else entirely as a ship and I need more of them and because this phrase about the ship and its figurehead/unicorn appeared in my head and I thought that it would suit Frenchie the most because if someone knows about mythical symbolism of figureheads etc, it’s him also, he's upset his boyfriend seems to be giving up ]

[petrifiedcrange]

He didn't expect to hear Izzy's voice. He wanted to, longed for it — even if it was the first mate's what feels like long forgotten annoyed tone instead of the much softer, friendlier one he was used to now, Frenchie would still smile and thank Calypso for the other man's recovery. But he didn't expect it, thinking that Izzy was still unconscious.

( He is not going to delve into why he was talking with him then if he didn't think the older man could hear him. Maybe, he hoped that his voice, his words would reach Izzy even on those distant shores he seems to be stuck on for now and remind him why he needed to come back or at least just to keep fighting — he was their unicorn, and the crew would fall apart much faster than the ship if he didn't make it. Maybe, he just wanted to escape the oppressive silence punctuated so far only by Izzy's heavy breathing. Either way, he is not going to focus on that 'why' – it's going straight into the box even though it feels like it's going to burst open any time now... and Frenchie doesn't want to think about it, so he doesn't, but deep down inside he knows that if the heavy rise and fall of Izzy's chest stills, the box in his mind will burst open and drown him in all the darkness he witnessed in his life... and he would let it because what point would be in fighting it... in anything, really, if Izzy is gone? )

So when weak and slurred but what sounds like definitely conscious – and he would be lying if he said it didn't make his heart jolt, the fact that Izzy might be trying to comfort him – words reach his ears, Frenchie looks up at the other man so quickly it's a wonder he doesn't hurt his neck, wide eyes searching his face for signs of returning consciousness as he takes his limp hand and gives it a squeeze, not knowing himself if it's meant to be reassuring or encouraging ( probably, both ), the cloth he used to try and cool Izzy down temporarily forgotten in the bowl on his lap.

❝ Iz? ❞ he calls, and why does his voice sound so wrecked? is he crying? ( almost, tears glistening in his eyes but not yet falling ), ❝ Can you hear me? ❞

Everything was...hazy. It felt like he was burning alive, skin far too hot, even with the occasional cool press of relief on his brow. Everything hurt. Last he remembered, he thought he was dead, should be dead. And yet, it seemed he clung to life, that someone held him here, forced him to stay alive. That felt familiar somehow, like it had happened before.

He recognized the voice. It struck a chord in him, welcome, made affection swell in his breast. The way the accent curled around words, the lilting, almost musical way the man spoke, even shaking and hurt as his voice sounded. And yet, Izzy's mind was a blur, unable to put a name to the voice, and eyelids far too heavy to open, to see who it is.

He felt safe though, being watched over by this voice, even as his body ached. Unicorn. Was that him? He was the unicorn. That sounded right. His voice came out slurred, barely managing, "Is okay." An attempt at comfort, an attempt at assurance. It's okay. It'd be okay.

[petrifiedcrange]

Frenchie knows that Izzy hates being cried over, as seldom as it happened so far ( and the bard hopes, hopes dearly that they won't have new reasons to cry over him any time soon, that he won't go and do something stupid like... like... but no, he can't even say it in his thoughts because it will only make him cry harder ), and he doesn't want to distress him, he never does, but especially now, when he's so weak and whatever crumbs of strength he manages to recover all go straight to his body's attempts to repair itself while staying afloat, ship-speaking, so he takes a deep breath and looks up and away, blinking hard, trying to force the tears away, trying to think about something good, but nothing comes to mind, not when Izzy...

He doesn't see the touch to his cheek — a caress, really... or an attempt at one, anyway, but for Frenchie there's no difference between the two, they are both show of deep care, of affection, of love Izzy feels towards him... and it still sends his head spinning, the idea that legendary Izzy Hands might love him of all people — coming so he startles, so hard he drops the cloth into the bowl, splashing a bit of cool water out, soaking his trousers, but he doesn't notice the wetness, wide eyes flying to Izzy's face and the now free hand coming up to cover the other's hand, to press it gently against his cheek so Izzy wouldn't have to hold it up himself — Frenchie sees how much it's taking out of him, that small gesture, and it both makes the ache inside him grow, yet another evidence of how fragile his love is, and love swell, because Izzy is wasting his strength trying to comfort him when he barely has any left, and though it's reckless, it also shows, once again, how deeply he cares — as if it is second nature.

When Izzy confirms that he does know that he is a vital part of this ship's, this crew's life, Frenchie feels slightly relieved and even smiles — though it turns out a bit shaky, the tears still refusing to go away and glistening in his eyes — but his next words break the bard's heart all over again.

They sound as if Izzy knows that he is not going to make it, that that posh bastard did him in, even as he still draws breath, even as the crew and some unexpected friends help his wound heal with all the bandages and ointments and other medical stuff, even as Frenchie puts his heart and soul into helping him fight the fever, and it makes Frenchie want to shake him, to scream, to do something that would make Izzy finally snap out of it and actually fight for himself instead of accepting his fate.

But the bard could never hurt him, least of all when he's already so wounded and weak, so he settles for tenderness and a bit of desperation instead as he pulls Izzy's hand away from his cheek only to cup it in both his own hands and bring it to his lips, kissing the back gently, never taking his eyes off Izzy's face, as he asks – implores him, really:

❝ Then promise me you are not giving up, Iz. Swear to me you will fight for your life, mon amour. ❞

The term of endearment slips so eaisly off his tongue and he's so focused on more important matters at hand that Frenchie doesn't even notice that this is the closest he came to confessing his love for the other man so far.

❝ The ship can't survive without its unicorn, Iz, ❞ Frenchie says quietly yet matter-of-factly as he wipes Izzy's feverish brow with a cool cloth, lingering for a moment to brush a loose strand off before turning to the side to soak the warmed up cloth in the bowl of cool water again, both his voice and gestures an aching mix of exhaustion, sadness and tenderness, ❝ We'll crash and burn before we ever reach another shore. ❞

There are tears welling in his eyes and he doesn't want Izzy to see them, doesn't want to distress his already overtaxed system even more, so he takes an extra moment to wring the cloth over the bowl while blinking rapidly to get rid of the tears.

And yet, a sob weasels its way into his words as he adds, almost an afterthought ( that sounds far more bitter than it has any right to be ):

❝ I thought you knew that. ❞

[ OPEN for Izzy post-S2 because ouizzy is something else entirely as a ship and I need more of them and because this phrase about the ship and its figurehead/unicorn appeared in my head and I thought that it would suit Frenchie the most because if someone knows about mythical symbolism of figureheads etc, it’s him also, he's upset his boyfriend seems to be giving up ]