#I’m not collapsing or dizzy anymore and my energy levels are up

[painsandconfusion]

Thank you all SO much helping me out, I could cry- I don’t deserve you all

I’m like $30 away from being able to catch up on all my bills which I should be able to make tomorrow at work, then I can get my wifi back on and start working on those commissions

I adore you all. You’re wonderful and I love you. Thank you so much.

[dented-nado]

Blanket/cuddling with superbat if you want!

This turned into heavy angst that turned into comfort despite this being a fluff prompt I’m so sorry , but I hope the hurt/comfort pay off will be worth it.

 Cold.

 Batman had pushed himself through pain, refused to acknowledge how much yet another knife ripping through his suit, another bullet that would have to be dug out, really hurt. Deep down, there was a voice that screamed every time, that wanted to cry, yell, anything, but he buried it. The way the cold air whipped at his face as he fell from the tallest buildings into the city and landed in a glide. The way every new tragedy, every new loss would shake him to his core.

How much more before he broke? Even the heaviest, strongest, steel would bend under enough pressure.

What if he lost someone dear to him again?

Could he handle it? Could he go on?

He hated thinking about it.

Alone.

 That kind of heavy emotion couldn’t stay buried for long. Bruce had it explained to him many times. The way he lived and treated himself was much like a dormant volcano. It may stand tall and seem like any other mountain from an outsider perspective… but inside, the pressure was building, and the longer that pressure built with no way to vent or release that energy? The more dramatic and disastrous the inevitable eruption would be.

He knew it. He had seen such an eruption happen to those closest to him. Witnessed as all the repressed trauma, both physical and mental burst out after hiding behind a mask under the surface for so long, watched it rip a person apart, disrupt their life completely.

Deep down… he knew.

He knew he wasn’t dealing with what he needed to. He knew he knew, everyone had told him. He had told himself. He knew he was pouring the wrong kind of energy into Batman that had brought him a little too close to a place he didn’t want to go. He knew… eventually, his body, his mind, wouldn’t be able to physically take it anymore.

He’d already pushed himself so far… so so far.

But he made excuses. “Gotham needs me.” “Just one more night.” “Once this one case is solved…” “Maybe when (x) is older, they need me to be strong right now…”

Lost.

Clark… Clark was… different. While he certainly hadn’t opened up very quickly… It was clear he trusted Bruce to tell him about his deepest insecurities, fears… the feelings that he had that he’d never really belong anywhere.

Bruce would listen, he always did, knowing these words were ones Clark didn’t share with just anyone. But it always baffled him in some way… because to him, Clark was not only a man he admired… loved… cherished… but a man he also wished he could be more like in a lot of ways. Because at least Clark talked about it. He had wiped tears from Clark’s eyes when he finally opened up about the life he had been ripped away from during the Black Mercy incident.

But when he tried to relate., tried to say he knew the horrific feeling of loosing a child… understood what it was like to have the life you always wanted, the acceptance, and love you always wanted… the people you wanted to be in your life teased at you, convincing you they were real only to come to the horrific conclusion that it was all a lie…. He couldn’t say it. He’d find when he wanted to speak, it felt like all of it wanted to come out of once.

And too often it came when he really didn’t want to make it about him. Or even just… he panicked at the feeling of everything being ready to come pouring out and swallowing it back down into the pit of his stomach, into the crevices of his mind to be saved for nightmares. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Clark to tell him… god, he trusted that man more than anyone, and adored him so. SO. Much. But he was terrified what might begin to spill if even one thing shook loose. He was afraid speaking even one word would make him fall apart and not know how to pick the pieces back up… or if he even could.

 Help

There wasn’t anything particular different about that night. And yet… halfway through his patrol in the Batmobile, he found himself pulling over due to having trouble breathing. He felt dizzy, his mind had gone blank. He’d just fought and turned in a gunslinger hiding in an alley… it’s not as if he hadn’t done that so… so many times already… so why now?!

The fact he was starting to panic as his body and mind had reached a full on shut down only panicked him more. His hands were shaking as he tried to call Alfred, finding himself having trouble just trying to remember what the damn right button was. He’d helped design the damn thing himself and yet suddenly he couldn’t remember what was what. Finally he found it and felt his eyes grow wet.

“Alfred…” He heaved.

He knew Alfred was asking him what was wrong in alarm, but he barely heard anything, it felt like his ears were stuffed with cotton and his heart was pounding in his head.

“I… I need you to remotely … I can’t…. remember how I’m…”

I’m not okay.

He leaned against the back of the seat in relief as the Batmobile’s auto-navigation took over, he ripped off the cowl and covered his face with his hands. Despite no one able to see him, he still felt the need to cover up his expression, a mix of pure panic and despair as tears he hadn’t let out almost his whole life were bursting out like a damn breaking after a flood. He hated it. He hated feeling, he didn’t want to be this way…

The only comfort that made it through in the moment is hearing Alfred’s voice through the communicator.

“It’s going to be okay son… you’re going to be okay, you’ll be home soon.”

 When he stumbled out of the Batmobile he could barely stand on his own two feet, He was starting to feel lightheaded, like he may pass out from the breathing he’d been unable to calm down despite numerous attempts.

Alfred had rushed over, grabbed his shoulders, so gently encouraged Bruce to look his guardian in the face and breathe with him.

Bruce didn’t know how long it took but he finally finally was able to start catching his breathe again, and allowed himself to be gently taken to sit down. His father figure never letting go of his hand that had ended up ungloved at some point Bruce didn’t remember.

“I-I don’t know what happened or why I-!” Bruce rambled feeling like he had to explain.

“You don’t have to talk about it right now or try and explain it. We don’t need to solve anything right now… what we need is for you to give yourself time…”

“But I left in the middle of a patrol! How could I do that? What if something happens because my own mind betrayed me?!” Bruce insisted, feeling his chest heave again.

“Your mind is not betraying you. It’s doing exactly what it’s meant to, it’s reacting to high levels of stress that you’ve tried to put aside for years and it’s trying to keep you safe. There is nothing wrong with that. There are other people out there working to help save lives, you cannot continue to do this to your detriment.” Alfred replied firmly, his own worry that had been present for years over his son’s wellbeing clearly had been boiling under the surface as well.

Bruce knew he was right… but he wished he could somehow just be better, not have to face any of this…

Alfred took a deep breathe. “Bruce. You are a stubborn, stubborn man with a good heart and so much drive… but I know you also appreciate practicality, and the kind of heroism you do is incredible, but it is not practical. You need to put yourself first. I know you know that in principle, but you have to start letting the rest of us help you make the steps you need to take. I am so proud of you… but I’m worried.”

Bruce looked down at the ground, eyes feeling heavy again. “I know… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, not at all.” Alfred soothed, giving his boy a hug. “Just… for a little while, allow me to be a parent and help you re-learn habits to take care of yourself?” He asked with a slight teasing tone.

Bruce finally managed a huff of a laugh as he hugged him back. “I guess I need a little bit of that…” He conceded.

He still hated it. But he knew… deep down the path he had been on would lead him here eventually… but this was his chance to take a new path instead, now physically knowing he couldn’t brute force himself down the old path.

He stood slowly, wiping at his face as he let go of Alfred. “Hiding in bed for a while does sound nice.” He admitted.

“I’ll bring up some hot chocolate in a while if you’d like, perhaps an extra blanket?” Alfred offered.

Bruce sniffled, face feeling gross from all the panic and crying. “I’d… like that a lot actually… thank you..” He admitted.

He began stripping out of the batsuit, ready to go upstairs to collapse for a bit before pausing.

His first thought was not to bother him, Clark had been on a outer space mission…. But well… he may have already tried to check in at hearing Bruce’s heartbeat become irregular.

Maybe… maybe just this once…

“Alfred… could.. could you also call Clark for me? If … he’s around… I… um…”

“Of course… I’ll notify him immediately.”

“Thank you Alfred.”

Bruce finally went upstairs, finding his bed and collapsing onto it, only groaning as he realized he forgot to take his shoes off and change clothing.

 Warm

 Bruce had drunk his hot chocolate and buried himself in a cocoon under the blankets, curling his knees up to his chest and hugging them. He’d completely pulled all of the blankets from the edge of the bed to cover himself in a sort of mini-cave. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been buried under there, alone with his thoughts when he heard familiar large footsteps enter the room and the bed dip as Clark sat beside him.

 “Hey B.” Clark said so sweetly and softly

Bruce physically let out a sigh of relief at his presence. He couldn’t will himself to speak but he moved his hand and lifted the edge of the covers, unable to help a small smile as he saw Clark’s head tilting to look down at him like a giant puppy dog that had just heard a squeaky toy.

He wanted to say “I’m glad you’re here, I missed you.” But he was once again having trouble speaking, so instead he reached his hand out and slowly put it on top of Clark’s hand.

“Hi.” He said, realizing his voice sounded a little weak.

“How are you feeling?” Clark asked, taking Bruce’s hand tightly in his.

“Not good.” He mumbled honestly.

He felt Clark kiss his knuckles. Why was this man just a walking beefy bag of sugar???

“What do you need?” Clark asked quietly.

Bruce thought about it for a moment. He didn’t really know… but then…

“…get under here with me?” He mumbled, grateful Clark had super hearing because his voice was starting to go somewhere else.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Clark and his warmth wiggled under the covers with him. He was wearing a flannel shirt that Bruce had stolen quite a few times because it was unfairly soft and comforting. Clark poked the tip of Bruce’s nose with his own nose before moving up and kissing the Bat’s forehead.

Bruce then immediately put his arms around Clark and buried his head in the man’s chest. Yes… yes this was what he needed. Warmth… someone in the space he usually isolated himself in… He needed Clark by his side.

“I guess you want to know what happened.” Bruce said, voice muffled but once again feeling he had to explain himself.

“Not now… later… just relax B, you can tell me after you’ve had some time. I know you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

“…okay…”

Clark was now running a soothing hand up and down his back. He was so massive, could seem to other so imposing and intimidating… but really, he was so gentle… so patient, so loving…

Bruce didn’t know how he got so lucky.

“I love you so damn much…” He could have sworn he thought to himself.

Clark hugged him a little tighter. “I love you too B, Always, no matter what.”

He felt himself about to cry and have a release of pent up emotion again, but this time he didn’t try to hold back and let himself fall into what his mind was trying to tell him he needed to do. This was what he needed to allow himself space to do. It was terrifying… but it was necessary.

Clark was here, Clark was holding him, and he wasn’t going anywhere. It was warmth in every form. He wasn’t alone anymore; he didn’t have to be… it could be different.

And once again Clark had gifted him with the very thing that Superman stood for, on a deep level that caught him as he landed in this spot where he could no longer push himself into pretending he wasn’t affected.

Hope.

[pastelwitchling]

I’d Remember You

“It’s a good thing we’re both level-headed people, otherwise this would be really scary,” Liz said, and Alex smiled.

He looked over his shoulder at the scientist, pacing the cave floor. Her fingers were covered with scars, her nails cut up and ruined from scratching at the rock walls, but still she looked for handholds, anything to hang onto.

“Good thing,” he muttered, squinting up at the small circle of open sky high above their heads. When he and Liz had walked the desert plains, looking for any sign of other pods that may have been saved and hidden, he had not expected to come across a burrow in the cave walls. He had expected even less to slip through one of them after trying to catch Liz who’d lost her footing.

Alex sat back against the cave wall, the pain in his leg on the fall down having been too much to help him stand for long. He put his head in his hands, and looked up to see Liz watching him with concern.

He chuckled. “You need to calm down.”

“This is all my fault,” Liz said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Alex—”

“Liz, I’m fine.”

“If I’d just watched where I was standing—”

“Seriously, you need to stop,” Alex said. “Michael and the others will find us, they’ll use their powers, and we’ll be out in no time – would you please stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy.”

“Sorry,” Liz said, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed tightly. A beat, two, then—“Do you need some water? I still have my bottle.”

“You do remember that I’m an Air Force captain, right?” Alex asked. “Believe it or not, I have dealt with worse than being stuck in a cave.”

Liz nodded to herself. “You’re really not scared at all?”

“Michael will come,” Alex said, leaning his head back, his eyes fluttering shut. The rocks poked his head, but he was so weary from the fall, barely managing to turn his body at the last second to land on his crouched legs, that he couldn’t muster the energy to move anymore. “You’ll see.”

“You believe in him,” Liz said. It wasn’t a question, but an observation. And it seemed to help take her mind off the situation, so Alex nodded.

“I trust him with my life,” he said. “Don’t worry, Liz. Everything’s going to be okay. You want to come sit next to me?”

Liz looked conflicted between wanting to take Alex’s offer, and afraid of looking weak. But her pant leg was torn and she was bleeding and there was a bruise on her cheek that was turning an alarming shade of purple, and Alex knew what it felt like to want protection and be afraid of asking for it.

He reached a hand out to her, and she hesitated for a second longer before crossing the unsteady grounds and taking it, latching onto his arm and clinging to him as they waited. He hummed his song quietly, the one he’d sang at the Wild Pony all those nights ago, the one that had given him the courage to seek something with Forrest, to kiss him. The one he had not sang since because of a cowboy that had decided not to stay. Still—

Alex heard Michael calling his name, and without even opening his eyes, the corners of his lips quirked up.

“Here comes the cavalry,” he muttered.

“Is that Michael?” Liz straightened, her eyes wide.

“Always the hero,” Alex said with a small smile.

“Alex!”

“Liz!” Max’s voice sounded.

“Alex, where are you?!”

Alex pushed himself off the cave wall as Liz stepped into the circle of light shining down from the only exit they had.

“Michael!” Liz called. “Max! We’re in here!”

“Liz?” Max’s head appeared in the opening, followed quickly by Michael’s.

“Where’s Alex?” Michael asked urgently. “Is he with you?”

“I’m right here,” Alex called, wincing as he stood. He covered his eyes with his hands at falling rubble from the cave ceiling. He narrowed his eyes at the rock. Was it about to collapse?

“Are you guys okay?” Max asked, and Liz nodded.

“Yeah, we’re fine, but . . . the footholds aren’t strong enough to carry us out.”

Max and Michael looked to each other, and Max nodded once, as if they’d just shared some silent plan.

“I’ll keep you guys up with my telekinesis,” Michael said.

“I’ll reach down,” Max said. “I can pull you guys up the rest of the way.”

“Hey, Max,” Alex called as Liz nodded and began to climb. “Watch your head. The ceiling doesn’t look stable to me.”

“Got it,” Max said.

Alex started to climb after Liz, but more rubble fell, and he stepped back, covering his eyes. “Alex?” Liz called worriedly, glancing over her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Alex rubbed his face. “Look, Liz, you go on ahead of me.”

“What?!”

“If there’s too much vibration, the cave might collapse,” Alex said. “We should go one at a time.”

Michael leaned down. “If the cave is going to collapse, you’re not waiting, Alex. Climb.”

“Guerin—”

“Climb, private!”

Alex sighed, and followed Liz. They made it halfway before a lot more rubble fell, this time enough for everyone else to notice.

“Hurry,” Max said, stretching an arm out as far as he can go. Michael’s face had turned red with the effort of keeping both Alex and Liz up. Alex knew he wouldn’t hold out much longer.

“Alex,” Liz warned, and Alex put a hand on her back.

“Keep going, Liz,” he said, his fingers also stained with his blood and rubble from the sharp rocks. “I’m right behind you.”

Except he wasn’t. His leg ached so badly that his eyes burned with the strain of keeping himself up. A few more steps and he was starting to feel woozy, his breathing heavier, his grip weaker. Max reached for Liz, and Alex felt the cave vibrating with an impending attack.

Max may have been focused on Liz, but Michael’s eyes were on Alex. Somehow, Michael knew that Alex was struggling more than Liz was, and he was focusing on keeping the airman up. But Alex wouldn’t make it. The ceiling was about to collapse, and Liz was closest to the exit. If she didn’t get out now, those rocks would fall on both their heads.

Liz reached for Max, their fingers touched, more rubble fell, and Alex spotted a foothold high enough just for him to reach.

He caught Michael’s eye, unable to hold the contact for long before he forced himself up the foothold. He came up just behind Liz’s back with nothing to hold onto, but that was fine. He wasn’t looking to stay up.

With all of his strength, he pushed Liz up the rest of the way, just as the cave ceiling collapsed. Then several things happened. Liz got out on the other side of the rocks. Max caught her. Michael screamed for Alex, but it was too late. Alex was falling backwards, and just before he blacked out, he felt a searing pain in his head, the small bit of light disappeared, and someone, though he couldn’t tell who, was calling for him.

*

Michael couldn’t forget Alex’s face. The way he’d glanced at Michael before he’d shoved Liz through the exit, as if in quick, silent apology. But now, as Michael sat at Alex’s hospital bedside, the airman’s head wrapped in a white bandage, a respirator helping him breathe, the monitor’s steady beep beep beep, waiting for his Alex to wake up, Michael felt he could do nothing but mutter silent apologies himself into Alex’s fingers.

Alex had warned them, but Michael couldn’t hear him. Not when his airman’s life had been at risk. And now it was at risk again.

“Hey,” he heard Max’s voice, a hand on his shoulder. “You need to rest.”

“I’ll rest when he wakes up,” Michael said, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

“Michael,” Max said. “He’s asleep. He’s not going anywhere—”

“You heard Kyle,” he said without taking his eyes off Alex. “Severe head trauma.”

“Michael, that wasn’t your fault.”

“He tried to tell us, but I just couldn’t think straight seeing him down there.”

“I get it,” Max said. “I would’ve done the same for Liz. She’s ridden with guilt, too – Michael, you both can’t blame yourselves.”

“I’m not leaving him, Max,” Michael said. “When he wakes up, he’s going to find me right here.”

Max sounded like he wanted to argue, but Michael leaned forward on his knees, Alex’s hand clutched tightly in his, and his brother seemed to relent.

“All right,” Max whispered a moment later. “Well, Gregory’s on his way. He was frantic when I told him about Alex, so heads up on that.”

Michael heard Max leave the room, closing the door behind him, and he kissed Alex’s fingers. He tried closing his eyes, and saw only Alex’s body on the cave floor, lying in a pool of his own blood, his hair soaked red. And now he was covered in bandaged cuts, oiled-up bruises, and a bandage around his head that glared threateningly at Michael, as if to say that no one who had had so much damage to their head usually survived, and Alex would be no exception.

If he wakes up, Michael thought to anyone who would listen, if you give him back to me, I’ll do anything. Please, just give him back to me.

               Hours later, Gregory arrived, swinging the door wide open, breathing heavily. “Where is he, where’s . . .” his words trailed off as he spotted Alex on the bed.

               And so Michael and Gregory silently sat, on opposite ends of Alex’s bed, Gregory’s head in his hands, Michael’s hold on Alex’s hand relentless. Forrest, they were told, would not be coming because he was out of town and was better off not knowing.

               “Alex will wake up,” Kyle had said. “There’s no point in calling Forrest here.” But even to Michael, the doctor sounded more hopeful than certain.

               That was why, when Alex’s eyes fluttered open around dusk, his fingers twitching in Michael’s, everyone (because everyone else had soon come to join Michael and Gregory in their wait) was instantly on their feet.

               Kyle had rushed in almost at once, and helped ease the respirator off Alex.

               “Hey, buddy,” he said, his voice soft. “How are you feeling?”

               Alex’s brows were furrowed with pain as Kyle helped him sit up against his pillows. Michael instinctively took his hand the moment Kyle had stepped back, and Alex looked startled.

               “Do you remember what happened?”

               Alex slowly shook his head, his eyes still on Michael’s hand tightly gripping his own. Michael probably should’ve let go then, but he couldn’t. In fact, if not for the slight frown on Alex’s lips, Michael would’ve been willing to slide into bed with him, to hold him tightly in his arms. He thought he showed great restraint by refraining.

               “Alex, we were in a cave,” Liz said quietly, coming up to Michael’s side. “You saved me. You really don’t remember?”

               Alex blinked. “I . . . saved you?” Liz nodded, and Michael touched Alex’s cheek.

               “It’s okay,” he said softly. “Don’t force yourself.”

               “Um,” was all Alex said turning away from Michael’s touch, as if uncomfortable by it. “Sorry, could you . . .?” He trailed off, gesturing at his hand caught between both of Michael’s, and slowly, his heart quickly turning to lead, Michael let him go.

               “I’m sorry, Alex,” Michael said. “I should’ve been able to save you. I – I should’ve listened –”

               “You were there?” Alex asked. “At the cave?”

               “Yeah, Alex,” Max nodded, frowning. “So was I.”

               Alex winced, reaching up to touch his head only to feel a bandage wrapped tightly around it instead. He turned to Gregory, looking more and more confused. “Were you there, too?”

               “No,” Gregory said, taking a seat beside Alex, putting an arm around his shoulders. “No, little brother, but I should’ve been. Problems tend to follow the Manes men wherever we go.”

               Alex’s frown deepened. “Manes . . . men. . . .” He was starting to look panicked. Michael reached for him again, but he flinched away as if the cowboy’s touch burned him. “I don’t . . . uh . . .”

               “Alex, hey, what’s going on?” Gregory tried as Alex even turned away from his brother.

               “I don’t remember anything.”

               “No, hey, Alex,” Kyle tried, putting his hands on Alex’s shoulders to calm him down. “We know, it’s okay, don’t force yourself to remember.”

               “No, I – I don’t know anything!” Alex said desperately, and Kyle’s expression was confused for only a second longer before it fell.

               “Wait a second, wait, it’s okay. Hey, look at me,” he said. Once he had Alex’s attention, he asked, “Do you know what your name is?”

               “Uh . . . I . . .” he stammered, then looked to Gregory, and tried, “A-Alex Manes?”

               Kyle clenched his jaw. “Did you remember that on your own? Or is it because that’s what we’ve been calling you?”

               Michael’s heart quickly turned to stone, and he could hear the word, “No,” escape his lips in a whisper as Alex asked, “That’s . . . not my name?”

               Kyle’s hands fell back to his sides. “You don’t know who any of us are, do you?”

               Alex miserably shook his head. Liz covered her mouth with her hands, Max put a comforting arm around her, but Alex looked terrified of everyone around him. Gregory slowly moved off the bed, his dark eyes on his brother, and Michael tried moving closer, but Alex scooted back to avoid him.

               Then he seemed to realize he had only one leg. And he screamed.

               Everything happened very quickly after that. Michael tried to comfort Alex, but Max and Liz had dragged him out. Gregory helped Kyle still Alex while they sedated him, and as Alex’s room door closed, Michael saw Alex’s face, terrified and streaked with tears.

               It felt like days later when Kyle and Gregory emerged, though Michael knew it couldn’t have been more than an hour. Michael was on his feet in a second, the white wall having given him enough back pains that he was sure he wouldn’t be properly asleep for weeks, Alex’s expression after he’d awoken the worst haunting of all.

               “He’s asleep for now,” Kyle said when Michael, Max, and Liz crowded him. “Should be for the rest of the night. You guys should go home.”

               “What happened to him?” Liz asked. “Has he got amnesia now?”

               “I’m going to need a second opinion,” Kyle said. “Neurology isn’t really my specialty. And he’s going to need an MRI, and—”

               “Valenti,” Michael said through grit teeth. “Give us your best guess.”

               Kyle sighed. “He sustained a major head injury when he fell. Best guess? It’s pretty simple; he’s suffering memory loss.”

               “How long will it last?” Max asked.

               “Well, usually this kind of thing goes away after a few days. In most cases, after a few weeks. But some cases . . .”

               “Yeah?” Liz prompted.

               Kyle shook his head. “Look, Alex is a war vet. He has enough memories he wants to keep hidden away, he’s been through enough trauma. Usually, the brain takes to blocking a lot of that stuff out, but with Alex, he’s barely been keeping it at bay. All I’m saying is, it may take a little longer for him.”

               “Can I take him home?” Gregory asked softly.

               “No, I can—” Michael started, but Kyle was already turning him down.

               “I’m sorry, Guerin, really, but,” he sighed. “It may be better for his brother to take him. We don’t want to force the memories back, that’ll just put a strain on the brain. And besides, Gregory probably has more happy memories with Alex than you do. He’s already freaking out with finding out that he has one leg, we should keep his trip down memory lane as smooth as possible.”

               It meant something, it really did, when a Manes man could be said to have more happy memories with Alex than Michael did, and then have those words be true.

               Eventually, Max and Liz were convinced to leave, give Alex space, but Michael stayed watching from the corners. He watched as Alex was led out of the room, leaning against Gregory as he tested his weight on his prosthetic, the prosthetic he’s worn for years, and the one he struggled with now.

               Michael watched as Alex asked question after question, Gregory answering patiently and with kindness.

               “Where are we going?”

               “Your house.”

               “But . . . I don’t remember where that is.”

               “It’s okay, I do.”

               “Are you staying with me?”

               “If you want me to.”

               “I want you to.”

               “Then, I’m staying with you.”

               Slowly, Alex got used to Gregory brushing his bangs away, to holding onto his brother’s arm, to leaning more of his weight against him. Gregory handed back a clipboard of paperwork to a nurse, and led Alex out to his car. Michael then got into his own and followed.

               His hands were tight on the wheel, his gaze focused straight ahead. He stayed well behind Gregory’s car and parked behind a cluster of trees as the Manes brothers came to a stop. They both stepped out, and Michael watched as Alex looked around at his home, completely unfamiliar with it.

               “I live here?” Alex asked, and Gregory’s smile turned small as he nodded. He reached an arm out, and Alex hesitated before coming to his side, allowing his brother to put an arm around his shoulders. He gave Alex his own spare key, told him to go on ahead and make himself comfortable, and disappeared around the corner.

               Michael peered closer around the fence, watching as Alex stepped inside, leaving the door open behind him. He was just starting to think that the old Alex would never have kept his home open, even with his brother right behind him, when he felt someone yank him back, and he was pushed against the wall.

               “What the—” Michael started, but once he saw Gregory, he relaxed.

               “Damn it, Guerin,” Gregory sighed. “You’re following us now?”

               “You knew?”

               Gregory raised a brow. “You do know the whole Manes family is military, right? There’s not much we don’t know.”

               “I want to see Alex,” he said, knowing what Gregory’s answer would be before the words even left his lips.

               “You heard Kyle,” Gregory said, not unkindly. “You don’t have a lot of great memories with him—”

               “I won’t remind him of anything, I’ll just quietly sit there,” Michael said, and he knew he sounded desperate, but Alex didn’t remember who he was or what they meant to each other, and being away from the airman had been agonizing before, but Alex needed him now, and Michael needed to be near him.

               “Please, Greg,” Michael tried. “I just – I just want to be next to him. If his boyfriend can’t be here—”

               “No, Forrest isn’t Alex’s boyfriend,” Gregory said dismissively. “They’ve just gone out a few times, Alex told me – but that’s not the point!” he added quickly as Michael’s expression turned surprised and hopeful despite himself.

               “He doesn’t know who I am,” Michael said, aware that he was pleading and not caring. “He won’t let me touch him. Please. I won’t say a word.”

               Gregory searched his face, then sighed. He pointed a finger warningly. “Not a word, Guerin.”

               It pained Michael how much Gregory sounded like his brother, how much he reminded Michael of Alex, and, desperate to see the airman now more than ever, he nodded and quietly followed Gregory into the house.

               “Alex?” Gregory called as Michael closed the door behind them.

               “Uh – here,” Alex called back, and they found him sitting in front of the keyboard in his living room, his hands curled to fists on his lap as he stared at the keys.

               “Hey,” Gregory said gently, coming to sit beside him. “You okay?”

               “I – what is he doing here?” Alex demanded as he turned and caught sight of Michael. He stood quickly, the piano bench keeping him from moving further away, but Gregory had already stood beside him, his hand on his shoulder.

               “Whoa, calm down, brother, he’s just here to check on you.”

               “Well, are,” Alex started, glancing between Michael and Gregory, “are we friends or something?”

               Michael nodded silently, pressing his lips together. He hated this; seeing Alex stand so far away from him, missing him so badly and not being able to touch him, the apprehension in his eyes. Michael knew it wouldn’t have helped, but all he wanted was to take Alex in his arms and never let him go again.

               “Alex,” Gregory said, “Michael was the one who tried to save you in the cave. He cares about you.”

               Alex’s shoulders slumped. “And you were at the hospital. You looked so relieved when I woke up. I’m sorry, I – I freaked out, and—”

               “Don’t be sorry,” Michael said, despite the warning look from Gregory. “I always hold on a little too tightly to you. I can’t help it.”

               Gregory pinched the bridge of his nose, but a faint pink blush touched Alex’s cheeks, so Michael was struggling to regret any of his decisions.

               “Right,” Alex said tentatively, then scooted out from behind the bench and sat down on the armchair beside it, leaving no room for anyone to sit beside him. Michael took a seat at the edge of the couch, closest to him.

               Alex scrunched his shoulders, hugging himself as he gestured at the piano with his chin. “Do I know how to play that?”

               “Yes,” both Gregory and Michael said at the same time, amused.

               “Very well, I might add,” Gregory said. “If Open Mic Night at the Wild Pony was any indication.”

               “I don’t know what that is,” Alex confessed.

               “The local bar,” Michael explained, and saw the briefest expression flicker on Alex’s face before it was gone. He changed the topic quickly. “You know how to play the guitar, too. You’re pretty much the smartest guy I know.”

               Alex gave him a half-smile without meeting his eyes. “I don’t really feel like the smartest guy right now.”

               “Hey,” Gregory said. “This is temporary. You’ll remember everything soon enough. Until then, try to enjoy it.”

               Alex scoffed. “Ignorant bliss?”

               “Ignorant bliss,” Gregory nodded.

               Michael thought that nothing could’ve possibly been worse than Alex enjoying the time that he couldn’t remember him.

               Alex’s brows furrowed slightly. “Was my life really that bad?” he joked, though his voice was quiet. “Before?”

               Gregory sighed. “It was getting better. The Manes family is . . . kind of cursed.” Alex laughed, and even Michael couldn’t help a begrudging smile. “But after dad died – hell, even before he died, your life was changing, Alex. You’ve always been the strongest of us.” He ruffled Alex’s hair. “You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

               Alex exhaled a shaky breath, smiling nervously. “It’s – it’s a lot.”

               Michael looked to Gregory, silently asking for permission, and when Gregory nodded, Michael reached out slowly to touch Alex’s hand. Alex reacted no differently than he would’ve to anyone else’s touch.

               “I’m going to help you,” Michael said.

               “We all are,” Gregory added.

               “That’s nice of you,” Alex said, and covered Michael’s hand with his own. He didn’t hold Michael’s gaze or smile softly at him or blush again, as he normally did. It was as if Michael was a complete stranger. “We must’ve been really close.”

               “Yeah,” Michael said, surprised at the lump in his throat. “You could say that.”

               And so the time passed, with the three of them seated together in the wide living room, going over some of Alex’s memories as a child. Alex’s eyes were distant, his expression polite, his brows furrowed at times when Gregory tried to evade the topic of their father and why Alex acted and dressed certain ways as a teenager. Michael smiled, and pretended that every time Alex casually touched his shoulder or reached for Michael only to quickly realize what he’d done and pull away with an apology, that it didn’t stab at his heart a little bit.

               When night came, Alex began to doze off, and Gregory told him where everything was so that he could prepare for bed. An hour later, Gregory came back into the living room, his brows furrowed, his lips pursed.

               “What’s wrong?” Michael asked, standing, but Gregory was already shaking his head.

               “He’s just asleep.”

               “That’s . . . a good thing, isn’t it?”

               He shrugged, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. He looked to be deep in thought. “Alex never sleeps. PTSD usually keeps him up. I thought you’d know that.”

               But Michael, who had been processing that answer, realized too late that he was being spoken to. “Huh?” he asked distractedly. “How would I?”

               Gregory blinked and looked away. “My bad. I just thought you guys had . . . you know . . .”

               “We have,” Michael said almost defensively. It was ridiculous to want to assure Alex’s brother that he and Alex had had sex, but the idea of Gregory thinking that Alex had only slept with Forrest was bothering him beyond reason.

               “And you’ve seen him sleep?”

               Michael opened his mouth to answer, and shut it again. Now that he thought about it; had he ever seen Alex sleep? Every time he’d woken after one of their nights, Alex had almost always been out of bed, or he was awake, watching Michael instead.

               “Well, good thing,” Gregory said airily, clearly regretting having brought up the topic at all. “I should make a call to the school,” he muttered, more so to himself. “Tell them I won’t be able to come in next week.”

               “You’re staying in Roswell?”

               “Alex needs me,” Gregory said casually, as if he needed no other reason to leave work and his home and stay in the town he hated as much as Alex did. “But you should go home, get some rest.”

               “I don’t need rest,” Michael said.

               “Haven’t you been up for a while?”

               He shrugged. “I’m not tired.”

               Gregory’s shoulders slumped. “Guerin, he’s asleep, I’m here, he’s fine.”

               “Well, what if he wakes up later?” Michael asked. “What if he needs something?”

               “He doesn’t remember who we are,” Gregory said patiently. “He’s not a kid. And I’m here to watch over him.”

               Michael sighed. “I just think I should—”

               “You may not get sick,” Gregory cut him off, “but you’re not immune to exhaustion. You need to go home.”

               Michael looked desperately between Gregory and the hallway through which Alex had left earlier to go to bed. He relented eventually, forcing himself into his truck with the promise from Gregory that if anything – anything at all – were to happen to Alex, Michael would be the first to be notified.

               He reached his airstream and couldn’t imagine himself falling asleep, but as soon as he fell on his bed and closed his eyes, the darkness engulfed him. Michael woke almost instantly, in a cold sweat.

               “Alex,” he breathed, thinking of the airman in his nightmares, the one that had smiled kindly to him, had walked into Michael’s embrace, had allowed Michael to kiss him until neither of them could breathe – and the one that had shot Michael’s heart and killed him.

               He hastily looked out the window and saw the gold light pouring through the blinds. He muttered a curse and quickly scrambled out of bed, washed up, changed his shirt, and got into his truck.

               “What’re you doin’, boy?” Sanders called, and Michael’s hand on the gearshift stilled.

               “I gotta go, Sanders!”

               “What for? We’ve got work!”

               “I need to go see a friend—”

               “Yeah, yeah, a friend,” Sanders grumbled. Then, louder, “Max and Isobel called, told me all about your friend! He came by here earlier.”

               “What?” Michael frowned, turning the engine off to hear him better. “Did you say Alex came here?”

               “I’m old, boy, don’t make me repeat myself,” Sanders huffed. “Yeah, he came by with his brother and that doctor girl.”

               “Why the hell didn’t you wake me?”

               “Fix your tone when you talk to me!” he scolded. “And I tried to wake you, but when Manes heard you were sleeping, he said to leave you. Said he didn’t want to bother you. Never thought I’d like a Manes man, but those two sure are somethin’ else, aren’t they?”

               “Sanders,” Michael grit out. “Focus. How long ago did they leave?”

               “Eh?” Sanders squinted with his one good eye. “Oh, about an hour ago.”

               “Did they say where they were going?”

               “What’d you think, I got time to stand around and ask them about their personal lives? They came by to get a look at the junkyard, jog the poor kid’s memory, then they left.”

               “And?” Michael pressed. “Did Alex remember anything?”

               “Hell if I know,” Sanders muttered. “I went back to work, like you should be doing – hey, where are you going?!” he called as Michael turned the car back on and rapidly drove backwards and out of the junkyard.

               Michael returned to Alex’s house, but saw that Gregory’s car was gone. He knocked on the door, called for Alex, but no one responded. His heart hammering, he drove to the Crashdown Café next, and to his relief, found Alex laughing in a booth beside Gregory, a milkshake and fries in front of him. Across from him sat Liz and Isobel.

               “And then,” Liz tried to say through her laughter, “this big guy, covered in tattoos and piercings, just kept petting your head, looked me straight in the eye, and said, ‘Honey, I think your little brother needs to go home.’”

               “No!” Alex exclaimed, laughing. “No, no, no, you are making that up! I wore nail polish and eyeliner in high school?”

               “You did,” Isobel nodded. “We weren’t friends then, but you pulled it off, I promise.”

               “That’s reassuring,” Alex said, then turned as his eyes caught Michael’s. “Hey, uh . . .” his brows furrowed in concentration.

               Michael’s heart sank, but he forced his lips into an amused smirk. “Michael. Guerin.”

               “Michael,” Alex nodded, and Michael tried to pretend it wasn’t weird to hear Alex say his first name so casually and with such a carefree smile. “We went to the junkyard! You were asleep.”

               “Yeah, I know,” Michael said, immensely relieved when Liz relinquished her seat to get back to her shift. He took her place, and Alex’s folded hands on the table didn’t move back. “Did you remember anything?”

               Alex hummed. “I think so,” he said, and refused to say anything else. “What about our parents?” he asked with the air of someone eager to change the subject. “Can’t they help me?”

               “Uh,” Gregory hesitated, glancing at Michael and Isobel, as if this was the last place he had ever wanted to talk about their family history. “Mom’s out of town, I thought it’d be better if she didn’t know what happened. She can’t really come back yet, so—”

               “It would just make her worry,” Alex finished. “Better not, then. I’m sure my memories will come back soon.” He smiled. “And dad?”

               Gregory said nothing a moment, then, “He’s dead.”

               Alex’s smile dimmed slightly. “Oh,” he said quietly. “Did I know him?”

               When Gregory and Isobel didn’t answer, Michael said, “His memories won’t come back if you keep them from him.”

               Alex looked to his brother, who was shooting daggers at Michael with his eyes, a frown at his lips. “I take it . . . we’re not close?”

               Gregory merely shook his head, his lips pursed. “Dad lived a certain way, with certain beliefs, and he wanted us to follow along with everything he said. You didn’t.”

               Alex looked down at his hands on the table. He didn’t look bitter or angry or any of the emotions Michael had come to associate with Alex when his father was mentioned. Just curious.

               “Hence, the nail polish and eyeliner,” Alex muttered, and smiled at everyone’s surprised looks. “Please, I was so clearly rebelling against someone.”

               “The trials of being a Manes Man,” Michael said with a smirk, and Alex’s expression faltered.

               “Manes . . . man,” he said quietly, his brows furrowed. He repeated those two words, his eyes slowly drifting out of focus.

               Gregory frowned. “Alex? Are you okay?”

               Alex shut his eyes, reaching up to touch his head. “There are . . . no Manes men left.”

               Michael froze. There are no Manes men left. Jesse’s last words after Gregory had shot him. After Jesse himself had beaten Alex and almost unwittingly killed his entire bloodline.

               “Alex,” Michael leaned forward. He had been there with Alex that night, words had been said, Michael had refused to leave Alex behind. “Do you remember something?”

               “Uh,” Alex put his head in his hands. “Um . . . dad . . . was . . . ah!” he winced, pressing the bottoms of his palms against his temples, his expression pained.

               “Alex, hey, it’s okay,” Gregory said quickly.

               “Yeah, don’t force yourself,” Isobel tried.

               “A toolshed,” Alex winced. “And a hammer. And blood, there was so much blood, how could he do that?!”

               “He’s panicking,” Gregory said, looking around desperately, as if forgetting that they were in a diner instead of the hospital. “We need to sedate him.”

               “Isobel,” Michael said quickly. “Get into his head.”

               “What? I can’t do that!”

               “He was screaming!” Alex cried, pressing harder against his temples. The few people there were starting to look around, Arturo and Liz looked over with concern from the counter. “I couldn’t save him!”

               “Guerin’s right,” Gregory said urgently, pulling Alex in against his chest. “Isobel, you have to. Please!”

               With a nervous look at Michael, Isobel reached out and took Alex’s hand. Despite the fear in her eyes, when she spoke, her voice was steady and soothing.

               “Alex,” she said softly. “You’re calm, you’re not afraid. The bad memories can’t hurt you here.”

               A tear fell down Alex’s cheek, but as Isobel held his gaze, his eyes seemed to come back into focus. “He was attacked . . . because of me.”

               “Not because of you,” Isobel said before Michael could manage it, which he was grateful for. He didn’t think he could breathe as he watched Alex, let alone speak. “Alex, you’re exhausted. You need to rest.”

               “Rest,” Alex repeated in a whisper. Slowly, he began to nod. “I need to rest.”

               Isobel assured him that he was right, as if it wasn’t her own command that he was following. Alex nodded off against Gregory’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering halfway shut. When it was clear he wouldn’t freak out again, Isobel slowly released his hand.

               “You okay?” Gregory asked quietly.

               Alex said nothing, staring off into the distance, and had his eyes not been open, Michael would’ve thought Isobel had put him to sleep.

               “What’d you do to him?” Michael asked her.

               She shook her head, her jaw clenched as she swallowed. “His mind’s like a freaking minefield. I can’t go back in there. There are so many traumatic memories, it’s like his brain is on overdrive trying to sort through everything.”

               Isobel scoffed, though her eyes had turned glassy and her voice cracked. If Michael had not known his sister so well, he might’ve missed it, but he did, so he couldn’t.

               “He’s always so put together,” she muttered, her eyes on the airman. “Always taking care of everything. I had no idea. . . . I never thought I’d say this, but . . . poor Alex.”

               “No,” Michael said right away. He knew Alex, whatever this version of him remembered, and he knew his airman would’ve wanted nothing less than to be pitied. As far as Michael was concerned, Alex was the strongest person he knew. Hearing about him spoken as anything otherwise was insulting.

               “He’s fine,” Michael said, even as Alex’s eyes closed for several seconds before they opened again. “He’ll be fine.”

               “You promised me you wouldn’t say anything,” Gregory said sternly. “Guerin, you almost reminded him of dad.”

               “That toolshed had followed the both of us around for a decade,” Michael defended. “Believe me, if he didn’t remember now, he would’ve remembered later.”

               “Still,” Isobel cut in as it became obvious that Gregory was willing to argue. “We have to be more careful. Remembering clearly hurts him.”

               “So, what?” Michael asked. “Keep the memories away forever? Only let him remember the good stuff? How long do you think that’ll last? What about when Greg needs to go back to work on the reservation?”

               “I’m thinking of taking Alex with me,” Gregory muttered absentmindedly into Alex’s hair. “I think it’ll do him some good. Getting out of Roswell, being in the place where our mom grew up.”

               “If nothing else,” Isobel added comfortingly, “it’ll be away from his worst memories.”

               “No, no way,” Michael said, his hand reaching for Alex, then he realized the airman had probably forgotten any of them were there, locked in his own haze, and his fingers curled to a fist on the table. “He’s not leaving town.”

               “Are you not listening to me?” Gregory said. “It’s better for him. And that’s what we have to think of now, Guerin; the best thing for Alex.”

               “The best thing for him is here,” Michael said desperately. “With me. Look, no one is going to take better care of Alex than me—”

               “And you think you guys will just go back to dating or whatever you were doing before? You’re a total stranger to him, he’s not going to be comfortable around you!”

               “You’re a stranger, too!”

               “But his worst memories aren’t tied up with me,” Gregory said, and immediately looked apologetic at having said it. After a moment of utter silence at the table, the rest of the diner turned to background noise, Gregory quietly said, “I’m sorry, Guerin, I am. I know how much this must hurt you—”

               “No, you don’t,” Michael grit out, his fists so tight that he felt his nails digging crescents into his palms.

               “But,” Gregory continued as if Michael hadn’t spoken, “Alex remembers more about me than he does you. You guys haven’t spoken in months. You dated one of his best friends for, like, a year, didn’t you?”

               “That wasn’t—”

               “I don’t care,” Gregory cut him off. “I don’t know you, Guerin, you can do whatever you want, but I know Alex, and I know the last thing he needs is one more reason to give up. So, please, just give him some time. Okay?”

               Michael clenched his jaw, but leaned back in his seat, pursing his lips. His eyes fell on Alex who he saw was watching him back, his brows furrowed slightly, and whether that was because of the painful migraine, or because of something else, Michael didn’t know.

               When Isobel went to the bathroom, Alex slowly reached across the table, and Michael, hesitant, reached the rest of the way. Alex squeezed his fingers weakly as if to say, I’m sorry I can’t be with you anymore.

               Michael felt that lump in his throat return and threaten to suffocate him. He let Alex’s hand go when he had to step out for Isobel and wouldn’t dare take it again.

               So for a week, Michael stayed away from Alex, watching only from afar as Alex spent time at the diner, talked to friends, visited the museum. Michael had expected him to regain some important memories in the UFO emporium, but when he came out, he had worn an unreadable expression for a moment, then shook it off with a smile and resumed his day with the others.

               Most of the time, he sat with Liz who seemed determined never to leave his side aside from shifts. Michael assumed it was because she blamed herself for what had happened to Alex. He thought it was ridiculous, as he was sure Alex would’ve, but having someone constantly at Alex’s side, even when Gregory had to return to the reservation that following Sunday night to prepare a room for Alex, made Michael feel better.

               The next day, Forrest had come back, and Michael saw – from behind his own truck’s windshield – that the historian was not thrown off by Alex’s accident, but happy to help him in any way he could. Michael’s hands clenched on the steering wheel, and he watched as Forrest held his arms out for Alex, the way Alex easily stepped into them and wrapped his own arms around Forrest’s waist, the way Forrest made them sway on their feet as they hugged tightly.

               Forrest and Alex then spent the rest of the day in the diner with Forrest talking animatedly, waving his hands around, undoubtedly telling Alex about all of their interactions since the day they met. Michael wondered if Forrest might lie about some of the details, then realized that was insanely stupid and that he needed to calm down.

               Still, Michael pushed himself out of his car, unable to help but make his way into the Crashdown with every brush of Forrest’s fingers against Alex’s jaw or hair or hands.

               When he came in, he expected Alex’s eyes to jump to him as they always did when a stranger entered the building, but this Alex didn’t have his memories or trauma from war. This Alex didn’t fear strangers or jump at sudden sounds of the bell above the door jingling or keep his eyes on all the entrances and exits to a place before he sat down.

               Michael went to the counter, glancing at Alex every so often, until he felt someone hit his shoulder.

               “What’re you doing here?” Liz said, her all-knowing eyes boring into his.

               Michael held up his hands in mock surrender, plastering a smirk that felt forced with the sound of Alex’s laugh in the background. “I’m just hungry. Can I get a burger, please?”

               Liz looked between Michael and the Alex who still hadn’t noticed that the cowboy was even there, and sighed. “Sure,” she said. “But just—” she huffed. “Don’t go near him. I’m serious, Michael,” she said when Michael laughed. “Gregory put me in charge of taking care of him, and he said, ‘Don’t let Guerin near him, whatever it takes.’ So, please—”

               “I won’t go near him,” Michael said with a slight edge to his voice. He was getting really sick of being treated like some infectious disease that would kill Alex if he touched him. Didn’t they know that no one cared more about Alex than he did?

               But Liz wasn’t Alex, no one was, and so no one could read Michael’s thoughts or sense his concerns or anger the way Alex always managed to.

               And so with a sad upward tilt her lips, Liz went to the back to get his order. Almost right away, Michael felt someone touch his arm.

               “Hey,” Alex said, smiling cheerfully, his hands folded playfully behind his back. He looked so carefree, so full of laughter, that Michael almost didn’t recognize him.

               “Uh – hi,” he said, and glanced to the back where Liz was too busy talking to one of the cooks to notice them together. He should’ve ignored Alex, should’ve made some excuse to leave, but the airman smelled like wood and maple syrup, and Michael hadn’t been close to him in almost two weeks, and technically speaking, he wasn’t breaking any rules because he wasn’t the one going near Alex, it was the other way around.

               “I haven’t seen you in a while.”

               “I was – uh – busy,” he said, then, as an afterthought, added, “Sorry.”

               Alex shook his head. “I know my brother told you to stay away from me.”

               Michael raised a brow. “If you know that, then why’d you come over here?”

               Alex’s smile faltered. “Because I saw you the second you came in. I always see you when you come in, even when I don’t know who you are. I want to know why.”

               Michael glanced at Forrest only to find that the historian had left. Alex followed his gaze and shrugged. “So? Will you help me?”

               Michael looked down, huffing a chuckle. He scratched his cheek and said, “You know, if you were Alex, my Alex, you’d know that you never had to ask me for anything. I pretty much do whatever you tell me to.”

               Alex narrowed his eyes as he searched Michael’s face. “No,” he said, slightly amused. “You don’t. I remember that much. I remember you saying no, but I can’t remember what for.” He laughed when Michael looked surprised. “See? I always remember more when it comes to you. So I’m going to ask you again. Will you help me, Michael?”

               Michael hesitated, looked again to where Liz had been, and saw that she had spotted them. She was trying to excuse herself quickly from the conversation with the cook, but Michael had already taken Alex’s wrist and was leading him towards the door. The airman looked startled, but followed along. Michael was glad to see his motor skills had come back to him.

               “First of all,” Michael said as he burst through the door, pulling Alex along behind him, “you don’t call me Michael. Not really. You always call me by my last name.”

               “Why do I do that?” Alex asked, and Michael shrugged.

               “You always have. It’s our thing.”

               “Our thing – ow, slow down!” Alex said, and Michael turned and caught him just as he stumbled against his chest.

               They stood there a moment, beside Michael’s truck, lost in each other. Alex was panting, his hands curled to fists against Michael’s chest, his lips all but pressed to Michael’s collarbone.

               “Where are we going?” Alex asked quietly.

               “To get your memories back,” Michael said into his hair, his eyes almost fluttering at the touch. It had been too long since he’d held Alex. “Come on. Get in.”

               Alex obediently did as he was told, sliding into the passenger’s seat just as Liz came out of the diner, looking panicked.

               “I don’t get it,” Alex shook his head, watching Liz with furrowed brows as Michael sped off. “If you were evil, they would’ve told me. But they obviously like you. So why doesn’t anyone want us together?”

               “Because we hurt each other,” Michael said as he drove off and down the road. “We always have. We’re kind of cursed.”

               Alex laughed. “Oh us, too, huh? I don’t think so.”

               “Well,” Michael smirked, unable to help it, “you wouldn’t remember anyway, so.”

               Alex whistled quietly, but when he spoke, he was smiling. “Low blow.”

               Michael laughed himself, and when he looked over at Alex, he saw him leaning back comfortably in his seat, sighing contentedly. His own smile faltered at the sight. “You’re so much . . . happier now.”

               “And I wasn’t happy before?”

               Michael considered this. “Not that I can remember, actually,” he said. “I think the only time I ever saw you laugh was . . . in the toolshed. That didn’t have a happy ending, though.”

               “That toolshed,” Alex sighed. “A lot’s happened there. Gregory showed it to me, you know. He said you and I destroyed it.”

               “We did,” Michael said, waiting with bated breath for Alex’s reaction.

               But Alex only hummed, and slumped down in his seat, pulling his left knee up against the dashboard. Michael didn’t know why he was expecting him to care; this Alex knew nothing of their history, and even if he did, it wasn’t as if he had the same feelings and emotions connected to everything.

               “You know,” Michael said before he could help it, “the old you had years to deal with this stuff. To accept the kind of man your father was. The kind of men your brothers were. You don’t have that kind of time.”

               Alex raised a brow. “You think I’ll explode if I learn too much? Because I’ve already had this conversation.”

               “You won’t explode,” Michael said. “You’ll be fine. But the last time, I pushed you away because of all of that. And you handled it fine. In fact, some might say you were better off without me.”

He said so with a smile, but Alex turned his head against his seat, searching Michael’s face with his dark eyes. He reached over and took Michael’s hand in his own.

Michael cleared his throat, but he held on to Alex’s hand. “It was like one thing at a time. Now it’s all going to hit you at once.”

“You’re worried about me,” Alex noted.

Michael shook his head, feeling a smile tug at his lips despite himself. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” he laughed.

“Like . . . like . . .” Like you love me. It made the reality all the more painful, and even worse when Michael knew that the second Alex remembered who he was, he would put distance between them again.

“Where are we going anyway?” Alex asked, clearly sensing Michael’s desire to change the subject. It was a comfort to know he could still do that; still read Michael to some extent.

Michael shrugged. “I don’t know, actually.”

“Just thought you’d kidnap me and drive us around till the gas runs out?” Alex asked, smiling.

“They weren’t leaving me any other choice,” Michael said.

“It’s nice,” Alex said. “So many of them care about me. I don’t understand what they’re scared of me remembering.”

Michael’s grin faltered. “Maybe it’s not always like this.”

Alex raised a brow. “People don’t always care about me?”

“Not as much as they should,” Michael said before he could help himself. Then, he looked over to Alex and saw a small smile at his lips. “You’re not mad?”

Alex shrugged slightly, helplessly. “I don’t really know anyone. And I think it would be worse if I knew anything about my life, but everyone just feels like a stranger. I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft.

Michael realized then that his jaw had been visibly clenched, his brows furrowed. He cooled his features, plastering a smile on his lips. He automatically brought Alex’s hand up to his fingers and kissed them.

“Don’t be sorry,” Michael mumbled against his fingers. “I’m right here. And we’ll fix it, Alex. I promise.”

Alex didn’t pull away or seem the least bit bothered by Michael’s hands on him now. “Fix me, you mean.”

“No, not you,” Michael said. “Never you.”

Alex turned his hand in Michael’s hold and held onto his fingers. “Something about you, Guerin. I can’t put my finger on it.”

Michael’s heart jumped in his chest. “I think I know where to take you.”

                 “Liz is pissed at you, you know,” Maria said the second Michael and Alex had gone through the doors of the Wild Pony. She had her hands on her hips, but the anger in her voice was undermined by the concern in her eyes as they fell on Alex.

               She reached out for the airman who, startled, stepped back from her. Maria halted in her tracks, hurt crossing her expression only barely before it disappeared and she smiled kindly. “Sorry, uh, force of habit.”

               “Oh,” Alex nodded, then, “How many friends do I have?”

               “A lot,” Maria said, clearly choking but making an effort to smile.

               Alex raised a brow. “You’re not gonna cry, are you? A lot of people have already cried.”

               “No,” Maria said with a huff, shaking her shoulders out. “I’m not going to cry. God, this is weird.”

               “No kidding,” Alex muttered, looking around the bar as if hoping for his memories to reveal themselves in the walls.

               “Michael, Liz has been calling all of us to know if we’ve seen you,” Maria said, throwing glances at Alex every so often. “What am I supposed to tell her?” she demanded.

               “That you have no idea where we are!” Michael smirked. “Alex needs me if he’s going to remember everything.”

               “But Gregory said—”

               “Gregory is handling his brother with safety gloves,” Michael said. “Alex needs someone who isn’t afraid of breaking him. He remembers more around me anyway, don’t you, Alex?”

               But it was as if Alex couldn’t hear him, his attention on something behind them as he hummed. Michael’s eyes narrowed. That song. . . .

               “What’re you singing?” he asked quickly, and Alex, surprised at Michael’s reaction, blinked.

               “What’re you talking about?”

               “That song you were humming just now.”

               “Oh,” Alex said as if he didn’t realize he’d been humming at all. He shrugged. “I don’t know. Just some song.”

               But it wasn’t just some song, Michael thought. It was the song. The song Alex had written and composed himself, the song he’d gotten up in front of an entire bar of cowboys to sing, the song he wrote about himself and Michael and everything they were.

               Alex, however, didn’t seem to find any significance in it other than a tune stuck in his head.

               “Hey, what’s that?” he asked, pointing at one of the instruments in the back.

               Maria came to stand beside him, her arms crossed, but her eyes going to Alex’s face so often that she may as well have been staring at him. Despite her smile, Michael didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so sad.

               “The keyboard we use for Open Mic nights. You remember it?”

               Alex brows furrowed. “I think so. Gregory told me I played piano. Maybe that’s why?”

               “You performed once,” Maria said wistfully. “It was amazing. I think. I wasn’t here to enjoy it. But everyone else told me it was amazing.”

               And by everyone else, Michael knew she meant Isobel. His sister had been talking about Alex’s voice since that night.

               “That can’t be true,” Alex laughed, and Maria’s smile turned more genuine despite her eyes filling with tears. “I can’t tell if everyone’s telling me the truth about this stuff, or if . . .” he trailed off at the sight of Maria.

               Alex sighed, smiling softly. “I knew you’d cry.”

               “I’m not crying,” Maria sobbed as she wrapped her arms around Alex’s shoulders. He patted her back consolingly, but Michael could tell he was at a loss for what else to do.

               They left soon after with a promise from Maria that she would give them a five-minute head start before calling Liz.

               Alex was silent as they drove on, knee up on the console as he hugged himself.

               “Alex?” Michael asked, but it was as if Alex couldn’t hear him. “Hey,” he asked again, reaching out to touch Alex’s shoulder. “You okay?”

               Alex shook his head and covered his face. “I’m fine,” he muttered, his voice muffled. “I’m okay.” He pressed his hands against his temples again, his face red as he strained to contain what Michael assumed was the same throbbing migraine that had haunted him at the Crashdown over a week ago.

               “Do you remember something?”

               “I – I don’t know,” Alex said miserably.

               “It’s okay,” Michael said. “Don’t force it.”

               Alex shook his head, his smile pained. “I feel like I’m letting everyone down. A whole town of strangers expecting me to know what they want me to know, and I just don’t.”

               “It’s okay.”

               “It’s not okay, Guerin,” Alex said. A breath, two, then, “We were really in love, weren’t we?”

               Michael faltered and nearly hit the truck in front of him. It honked loudly as he passed it, but Alex looked unruffled, his eyes steady on Michael. “You remember?”

               “Bits and pieces,” Alex said. “Always of you. Always bad. I’ve either been angry with you or you’ve been angry with me, or I’ve cried because of you or you’ve cried because of me. One of us is always walking away.”

               Michael clenched his jaw, and pulled over to the side of the wide empty road, parking the truck. Neither of them said anything for a moment, nothing but the wind in the sand blowing past, and neither of them in a hurry to get into this conversation.

               “Then how did you know?” Michael finally asked. “That we were in love?”

               Alex have him half a sad smile. “Because you keep looking at me like I’m breaking your heart.” He shook his head, a tear escaping down his cheek. “I don’t enjoy this. It’s like I can feel there’s a big part of me missing, and I don’t know how to get it back. I know it’s a miserable, and dark, and messed up part, but I would do it for you, Guerin. I would remember if it meant I got to remember you.”

               Michael shook his head, unable to look away from Alex. He whispered, “Why?”

               “Someone who loves as much as you do,” Alex said, “has to be worth putting up with the rest of it.”

               And while Michael knew he shouldn’t, that it might hurt them both, he closed the distance between them, and took Alex’s lips in his. Alex did not seem startled, kissing back gently as Michael tilted his head and deepened it. His heart was overflowing, he could hardly contain it. It had been too long since he’d touched Alex, his scent and taste the same as ever.

               Michael knew they had to be okay if Alex was kissing him back, if everything about him from the way he dressed to his voice was all the same as before. Michael decided that, no matter what it took, they would be okay. They would have to be.

               But just as he reached up to cup Alex’s cheek, the airman pulled away with a wince.

               Michael panted against his lips, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

               Alex looked confused at what had just happened as well. “I – I don’t – ah!” He pressed his hands roughly against his temples, all but screaming in pain.

               “Alex?” Michael pulled back, trying to hold onto Alex’s shoulders, to cover Alex’s hands on his head with his own, but Alex doubled over, screaming. Then his nose began to bleed, and Michael felt panic quickly seep in.

               “Hold on, Alex, hold on,” Michael said desperately, undoubtedly breaking every speeding rule as he raced the streets on the way to the hospital. “Hold on, I’m gonna get you help, hold on, baby!”

               But if Alex heard him, he didn’t show it. He was trembling in his seat, bleeding all down the bottom half of his face, his shut tight. The second Michael parked the car in front of the building, Alex collapsed against the car door.

               Michael felt a sickening sense of déjà vu, sitting here in front of Alex’s bed, watching him lying unconscious, waiting for him to wake up. He hated being here, he hated seeing Alex here, he hated these damn white walls and white sheets. He wanted to take Alex and go somewhere far away, somewhere danger and white hospital rooms couldn’t follow.

               But, as Liz had pointed out when Kyle had insisted on calling her after what had happened, Michael taking Alex anywhere alone didn’t always yield the best results.

               “What did I say?” Kyle said as soon as he came in, clipboard in hand. “I said don’t stress him out, Guerin. Don’t scare him, Guerin. Don’t push it, Guerin! Does anyone even listen to doctors anymore? No, of course not, because you all just know better, right?”

               “Kyle, Michael couldn’t have known this would happen,” Liz tried. She sounded weary, her eyeliner was smudged from when she had been crying. Michael wished Max and Isobel could be here, but they had gone to the reservation with Gregory to see if they could gather any of Alex’s old things, help jog his memory, and weren’t scheduled to be back for another day.

               “Actually, Liz, he could have,” Kyle said. “Because I warned you it would.” He checked Alex’s vitals, his scans, and turned to glare at Michael. “You’re really lucky Alex is as strong as he is, or who knows how much worse that reaction could’ve been.”

               Michael tried to muster the will to be angry, but he couldn’t. All he cared about was Alex. “Is he going to wake up?”

               “I don’t know,” Kyle admitted. “A breakdown like that, in the state he’s in – it could make things worse. Decades worth of trauma all hitting him at once. If he does wake up, you better hope he remembers how to speak.”

               Michael’s heart climbed into his throat. He looked up at Kyle, hoping to see him rolling his eyes, to hear him reassure them that he was kidding, that Alex’s memory couldn’t regress that far, but the doctor was only looking at Alex.

               Kyle rubbed his face and sighed. “If he doesn’t wake up by tonight, I should call his mom. I’m going to go have a look at his records and pull up her number. I’ll be back later to check on him.”

               Michael briefly registered Liz nodding before the door opened and closed, and she pulled up the chair beside him and took a seat.

               “You should—”

               “If you tell me to go home or get some rest, Liz,” Michael cut her off, his eyes on the airman, “I’m going to scream. It’s my fault he’s here in the first place.”

               “No, it’s not,” Liz said slowly. “It’s mine.”

               “Liz—”

               “We were in that cave because of me,” Liz said. “I was too eager, not careful enough, and Alex did what he always does. He saved me. He would’ve remembered sooner or later.”

               “I forced him into it.”

               “It was what he wanted, Michael,” she said. “He chose you because he knew you would help him remember faster. Don’t you see that? He just wanted to remember you.”

               “A lot of good that did him,” Michael said bitterly. “Even when I’m not in his life, I ruin it.” He reached out and took Alex’s hand in his own. “But I can’t stay away from him. You must think I’m a real dick.”

               Liz shrugged a shoulder. “What I think doesn’t matter. Alex loves you, no one else. I can’t shut that off, any more than you can.”

               Michael shook his head, his eyes filling with tears. “I can’t lose him.”

               “You won’t,” Liz said. “You can’t.”

               Michael vaguely registered her standing up an hour later to get them some food. He nodded numbly as she grasped his shoulder and turned to leave.

               It wasn’t until two more visits from Kyle and a frantic phone call from Gregory that Michael realized he felt something in his hand move. He looked up from where he’d dozed off, with his head on Alex’s bedside, and saw that it was Alex’s fingers twitching in his, lightly holding onto Michael’s own.

               Michael sat up with a gasp, staring intently at Alex, but after half an hour, the airman’s eyes remained shut and his fingers did not move again. Michael’s heart quickly turned back into lead as he stood up, gently releasing Alex’s hand. He stepped into the bathroom, wondering if maybe he’d imagined the whole thing, maybe he’d dreamt it, maybe his long days of not eating enough and his even longer nights of not sleeping enough were getting to him.

               He came out of the bathroom and froze. There, struggling to sit up against his pillows, was Alex, wide awake. Michael didn’t dare move, afraid that he would shatter the dream, but Alex’s expression turned startled at the sight of him, and the airman narrowed his eyes as if to make sure Michael was actually there, and Michael knew it was real.

               “Alex,” he breathed, throwing himself onto Alex, wrapping his arms tightly around his shoulders.

               Alex was stiff in his hold, his hands in his lap. Michael remembered the last time Alex had woken up here, the way Michael had frightened him by getting too close. Michael forced himself to let the airman go, and he stepped back, holding his hands up to calm what he was sure was going to be a terrified Air Force captain.

               “Don’t freak out,” Michael said gently. “It’s going to be okay.” Alex’s brows furrowed. Michael swallowed, remembering what Kyle had said about the probability of Alex not remembering how to speak, then said more slowly, “I promise . . . I’m your friend. . . .”

               Alex raised a brow, then, rubbing his forehead painfully, he said, “What the hell are you doing, Guerin?”

               Michael’s face fell and his heart jumped. “You – you remember me?”

               Alex sighed, the sound alone so familiar that Michael thought he could burst into tears right then and there. “What?”

               He stepped closer to the bed, not daring to hope, and wishing for it despite his better instincts. “Do you know who I am?”

               “Yeah?” Alex said, though it sounded more like a question. “I’ve only known who you were since we were in high school. Did Kyle ask you to question me? Because I feel – oh!”

               Alex never got to finish because Michael had closed the distance between them again, wrapping Alex in another tight hug. As he was not caught so off guard this time, Alex settled his chin on Michael’s shoulder and hugged him back.

               When they finally broke apart, Alex was rubbing his temples, wincing. “My head is killing me.” His eyes widened. “Liz. Where’s Liz, is she okay? Did she make it out of the cave?”

               “The cave?” Michael’s brows furrowed, though he didn’t dare leave Alex’s side again. He planted himself beside him on the bed, and while Alex seemed both surprised and confused, he was giving Michael his full attention once again. “That’s the last thing you remember?”

               “Yeah,” Alex said, but he frowned as he looked himself over. “My injuries shouldn’t be healing yet, not unless . . .” he trailed off, realization dawning. “How long have I been asleep?” he asked, not afraid or concerned, only calculating, as if he was drawing up a battleplan on how to deal with the answer when it came. God, Michael missed him.

               He shook his head and reached up to cup Alex’s cheek, kissing the other. Once again, the airman seemed at a loss for words.

               “Not long,” Michael said honestly. “Not long at all.”

***

Goodness gracious, I’m rusty.

[dopamine-droplets]

So uh ... a health update I guess?

So uh ... I don’t really feel like I have a following following or anything, but I still feel like addressing my radio silence those last few months to ... I guess validate myself and get it off my chest?

So, the last few months are a bit of a haze. I think I mentioned my health getting pretty bad at some point (don’t worry though, it’s nothing dangerous). Long story short, I was probably anemic to a point where I felt like my body was falling apart due to my (very, very bad) iron deficiency. No, really. I couldn’t walk for 2 minutes without feeling dizzy, sick and weak. I can’t know that for sure because my GP refused to examine me and told me to piss of to a psychosomatic clinic that’s not giving apppointments atm but everything points towards it. This all started after a cluster of events that deplete the body of iron. I was fatigued and brainfoggy, so much so that I don’t really remember the last few months properly. They just ... flew by. I don’t know what I did. I think I had to lie down a lot. I drew a lot until I was to exhausted to do that and then I stopped drawing altogether. Apparently my mum pointed out how sick I looked at some point but I don’t remember that. There’s a vague memory of because she told me about it but I don’t really remember it.

My life is also a mess in many ways because of my poor mental health because I ran out of therapy hours in the middle of therapy while a lot of shit was going on in my life (after a lot of other shit had already happened). So I usually wake up and go to sleep with a hefty dose of existential dread and self-loathing, there’s shit I need to do to fix my life that my brain just won’t allow me to do and there’s no way I can fix it all any time soon. It’s small baby steps for me and hoping my life isn’t ruined because I’m too slow. But physically, I am definitely recovering. Since I started taking my iron daily, the bouts of dizziness, nausea and weakness have all but stopped. I get dizzy when I forget to take my iron for a few days (which has happened) but it doesn’t get this bad anymore. I can walk, I can run, I can exercise! I went to parkour yesterday and was able to do a fucking wallrun. That is, running up a wall. (I’ve gotten pretty bad at it though XD) Back in May (I think) I was barely able to walk the stairs to my 2nd floor apartment. I had to take breaks. I remember the first time I walked up the stairs with a laundry bag without feeling like I was about to collapse, and how thrilled I was. I called my parents to tell them I can carry a laundry bag to the second floor. I’m 26 and otherwise healthy btw. How did I not realise how fucked up I was before that ... 

I’m more present mentally and less cognitively impaired (though I still have no sense of time, I’m still a bit more forgetful than I should be and have some trouble concentrating). For a while, it felt like I was waking up from a month long slumber. But I still get fatigued more easily than I used to (not that I remember what exactly it feels like to have normal energy levels), I don’t get a lot done in a day, but I’m recovering. Apparently I don’t look like a walking corpse anymore either. 

So yeah, things are looking up and I’m hoping to draw again and make music again and socialise again and just ... do stuff beyond surviving. I’m not 100% yet. It’ll probably take a while until I’m entirely healthy physically, and we shall not speak of the mental health aspect since I don’t really have access to any form of treatment right now. But I feel like I’m getting there and not falling apart anymore. That’s pretty good I guess.

Anyway. Sorry for the wrong ramble. If you’re experiencing symptoms and your doctor dismisses you, please don’t just diagnose and treat yourself. Get a second opinion if you can. I really should have done that. I’m in the medical field but still, there’s no way I can be sure I’m not missing something, and I still doubt myself sometimes. I still lack the energy for social media at times, so if I don’t interact a lot, please know that it’s not that I don’t care about or am not interested in what you have to say. But yeah. I’m back. For the most part. And I’m mostly fine. Or at least I’m getting there.

[lunaticsundae]

Lose My Mind (LeoKarno NSFW)

Warning: Rough sex, (kinda) forced sex

(I’m not actually good with sweet and nsfw fic, only angst fic is my most written sooo yeah..hope you guys enjoy my first nsfw fic)

“All these endless paperwork...those goldfish can be so greedy with their wishes” - Leon sighs, he have been looking through and examining all the documents regarding human’s wishes for 7 hours straight.

The air in the room is getting to hard to breath due to the stress. Leon decides to head out to get some fresh air, he stand up from his desk and head for the door when suddenly, the door flies open with a goddess dashing into the room.

“Lord Leon, please, please help me ! The spell i’ve been practicing do something to my pet, i don’t know what have gone wrong but it’s attacking me !” - The goddess cries out with desperation, panicking with blood on her left shoulder when suddenly, a bunny 5 times bigger than normal dashing toward Leon and the goddess with his sharp teeth shown and eyes are blackened with no pupils.

“What have you done !? This is a dark spell used in the ancient war between heaven and hell. It turns every creature into monster that harm everyone goes by its path !!!” - Leon yelling angrily, knowing a goddess practicing dark spell in the middle of heaven

“SCREECCHHHH” - The rabbit makes a weird sound so disturbing that brings harm to the ears, Leon quickly pulled the goddess in his arm while covering her ears, he flings his arm while speaking an ancient language. Immediately, the rabbits head twisted, the screaming sound getting so intense it breaks the glass window in the hall, causes the ground shaking. Leon frowns trying to use his power to protect his ears and the goddess’s

The rabbit’s head finally falls onto the ground, the disturbing sound ends. Leon snaps to clean up the blood and the animal’s corpse on the floor. After quickly cleaning everything, Leon turns to the goddess, who is still shaking. Noticing Leon’s “try to explain it properly” gaze falls onto her, she stutter, trying to make out her words:

“Please, Lord Leon, i don’t know anything, i just want to learn advanced spell to get my rank higher to work at the palace. And there was man in cape told me this spell, he said that it is a spell that makes everything powerful. Please don’t punish me i swear i don’t know !” The goddess cries out, seemingly telling the true

“There have been rumor going around the palace...that there is a rat from hell snuck in here to stir up the heaven, causing chaos..so it is true” - Leon thinks and speak to the goddess

“Your pet, sadly have to be killed as it is no other way to treat creature affect by that spell, just find a new—“ Leon realizes he still holding the goddess in his arm, releasing her, he continues:

“Okay, leave now, tell no one what happened here to prevent chaos in the heaven. I will report this to King”

After the goddess left, Huedhaut rushing to Leon’s office, as he saw a disturbing energy comes from the direction. Leon explains the situation and tells Huedhaut to keep an eye on everyone’s behavior, even the 12 Zodiac gods as the imposter could be anyone. Suddenly remember something, Leon asked:

“Have you seen Karno ? It’s been all day, he should be here to check my work progress now. The hell energy, though just from a rabbit but it still can be sense for a god like Karno, he should be here right now.”

“What ? He told me he sense something from your office so he went to your place. You haven’t seen him yet??” - Hue surprised, Leon quickly runs out of the room before Hue get to continue his words.

Leon puts his hand in the air and the stars on the sky starts moving, creating an direction guide tool. However, the star guide immediately disappears like someone tries to remove the guiding spell. Leon stops and looks at the star, sighing and head to the milky way river bank.

“You know i am able to sense someone’s power to find them right? Especially when that person is someone so close to me” - Leon looks at Karno, sitting by the river bank

“Oh, that should be my mistake for forgetting our great Lord Leon’s power. Should the great Lord be taking care of the hell power problem right now?” - Karno said without turning around to look at Leon

“What’s the problem with you now, what’s that attitude. You know how worried i am when Hue said you came to my place, but i never see you came by?” - Leon completely annoyed, all the problems happening today yet Karno is showing attitude for no reason

“Yes, i changed my mind, i don’t want to see you today. Please head back to solve the urgent problem now. I will send you my documents and report regarding this matter later” - Karno put his hands up ready to snap to teleport away but Leon grabs his hand, pushing him down and devours his lips.

Karno struggles, try to close his lips tight, denying the kiss while pushing Leon away. But the strength of the second strongest god is no joke, no matter how hard Karno tries to push his Minister away, the harder Leon push Karno down, pressing his lips against him. Leon sliding his tongue into the Vice Minister’s mouth like a snake looking for its way in every corner. Karno feels like he can’t breath, he can’t take this anymore, jealousy and anger rise inside him but he can’t tell the Lion he’s jealous

He just don’t want him to know

SMACK

A hard slap went across Leon’s face, Karno push Leon and about to run away. But the escaping attemp fails as Leon grabs Karno by the neck and teleport to his bedroom where he push Karno down the bed by the neck, pinning him so he can’t get away

“Just tell me, why are you so angry at me? Hmm..? I can’t fix it if you won’t tell me” - Leon sighs while tracing his finger across Karno’s pale and smooth body, slowly undressing him. The god of Cancer tries to stop him then suddenly an electric-like feeling running through his body, every inch of his body are tingling with...excitement. His member is getting hard under his pants. Karno angrily turn around at the Lion as he knows exactly what’s going on to him.

“Don’t you fucking dare use your power on me, i won’t hesitate even if y....AH !” - Karno slips out a sudden moan as he feels Leon’s finger inside him, touching his sensitive spot. This is not the first time he experience this infamous pleasure power of Leon but this time, it’s feel like everything has gone up to a new level. It’s getting irresitible.

“Just tell me what’s wrong Karno and i will be gentle to you. Don’t be quiet like this” - Leon brush his finger through Karno’s hair, whispering lightly into his ears but the Cancer god’s pride stops him from speaking the truth. He should be worry about the hell problem, not jealous over some woman. It’s way too embarassing to speak the truth.

“Do..ah..whatever you want and be done with it. I’ve...seen enough of your face” - Karno try to speak but his mouth keeps moan on itself due to Leon’s touch. His head is getting dizzy but he can feel the anger of the Lion behind him. Leon aggressively turn Karno around and rest Karno on his thighs as he shove his monstrous member into the poor Vice Minister’s hole, all the way to the end. The sudden and rough entry causes tears to burst out of Karno’s eyes as a reaction.

“Ah..Ah..Leo...stop...it’s hurt—Mmhhh” - Karno’s beg is cut off by Leon’s deep and wet kiss. Leon just finally let out when he feels like his partner about to pass out due to lack of air. Leon looks at Karno with mixed feeling.

“If i do it like this you will have to face me with no choice..right? I don’t want to hurt you but your attitude is making me angry and all you have to do is talk to me” - Leon shoving his cock continously into Karno without a break. At this point the Vice Minister can’t hold back his moan anymore, he feels like he is being filled up to every inch of his body, the intense heat, Leon’s pleasure power and his rough shove is getting him insane. He doesn’t hate this but the feelings right now is getting out of control.

“Leon, are you inside? Can i come in?” - There’s a person knocking on the door

Hue!?? Why he have to come in right at this time - Karno thought to himself, panicking, Leon shows no sign of stop, he push Karno onto the bed, moving inside him while replying:

“I’m in a middle of an urgent matter right now. Can you come back tomorrow?” - Leon reply while keeps thrusting hard into Karno, lowering his body close to Karno. Understanding the sign, Karno bites Leon’s neck to keeps his moan unheard. Hue left after Leon’s reply, but Karno keeps biting Leon’s neck, not to hold his voice, but to keep himself conscious under Leon’s manipulation, the pleasure rising in him. Leon gently stroke Karno’s hair while whispering into his ears.

“It’s okay, baby”

“Leo...ah..i’m about to...Mmmhh”

Leo holds Karno tight in his arm, both of them moan with pleasure. Karno collapse onto Leon’s shoulder, Leon lightly patting his partner’s back

“Sorry..i came inside...i will wash you later, okay?” - Leon kiss Karno slightly on the forehead but suddenly he feels something wet on his shoulder, he holding up Karno’s face just to see he’s crying, tears falling down his red cheek.

“Wait..why are you crying? did i hurt you that bad? Honey i’m sorry i just lost my mind” - Leon immediately got panic when he see tears of his beloved. While the lion wiping his lover’s tears in panic, Karno finally speaks

“I was...uncomfortable with that woman you hug today...I just...couldn’t hold my anger, every thought of you leaving me with another person ran through my head. I don’t want to see you to stop myself from being hurt by that feelings” - Karno confessed - “—but you don’t have to do me like that okay, you could just do something else to get me to talk other than abusing my hole” - the Vice Minister sobs and keep punching the Minister, though the punches are weak because his body still aching and exhausted from the sex earlier.

“You’re...jea...” - Leon let out a little smile of relieved knowing that it’s not something seriously happening with their relationship, holding Karno inside his arms, he gently stroke his cheek : “I have never thought of loving someone apart from you. I just tried to cover that goddess’s ears from the disturbing noise that can harm her or even turns her into monster. There’s no other reason, because there is only one cutie Crabby in the world and that’s the only one i love, don’t worry, okay?”

“Leon, i’m sorry because i was childi...—HEY WHAT ARE YOU DONG PUT YOUR HANDS AWAY IT’S ENOUGH !!”

“Okay how about another round for making up? I will be gentle this time” - Leon smile whole pushing Karno down onto the bed, kissing him deeply like he never going to let his cute lover go.

Meanwhile outside the Leon’s room

“So they’re going for another round, huh?” - Teorus puts on a naughty smirk, next to him is the rest of the Wishes except Huedhaut

“Okay people, back to the hell matter at hand, leave the lovey dovey rest for a day, shall we? You all have heard everything inside, right? Happy now, back to work” - Hue claps his hands together as he tell the Wishes gods away “It’s a good thing the Minister and Vice Minister get along that well”

[bellatrixobsessed1]

From Chin to Yon Rah (Part 3)

She goes by many monikers. In this town she will be Bora. At the last one she was Yukia and the one before that it was Yukia but spelled without the ‘Y’. In the next town she will be Zu-Ri. Her stomach is achy and rumbling by the time she sees its shambled skyline and she dreads that she has only come upon a ghost town. She isn’t even there yet and she is already crying tears of frustration. She doesn’t have much energy left, if this is a dead end, she will simply find herself a house to curl up and die in. She will try to find a nicer looking one so that the dust coating her bones will have an aesthetic that is darkly pleasing to behold; a princess dying without a name in the husk of a nameless town that had been abandoned long before she’d come.

Her mongoose-lizard is growing weaker too. It moves more sluggishly and she considers that she may not even make it into town. That her bones will lay in a field. Granted, there is poetry in that too; the thought of floral vines curling around her ribcage  and fire lilies blossoming from her mouth and eye sockets--life in death. And in death she’d give more life than she had when she was alive.

She can no longer keep her head up. She is weak and thirsty. It is now up to her mount to get her to town. She closes her eyes. She  supposes that death isn’t so terrible after all now that it is coming to whisk her away.

Azula doesn’t think that she will wake up, but when she does it is to a cool rag on her head and the smell of chowder. She doesn’t much like chowder, but Agni does it smell heavenly now. She can taste it on her tongue and the taste is warm and inviting. There is another smell in the air, she thinks that it might be bread. She isn’t sure that she has a reason to, but she smiles.

“I was worried that ya weren’t gonna wake up.” Remarks a gruff voice.

Azula sits up, her head pounds lightly but the ache in her stomach is easing up. She is inclined to guess that the man had fed her at least a little. A dizziness clouds her head and it must show on her face because the man moves to hold her steady and the lower her back onto the pillow.

“Easy now.”

She tries to keep her eyes open but finds herself drifting off again. It doesn’t feel as though much time has passed but when she comes to for a second time, the sun filters through the cracked window from a different angle. The man is still sitting there, he has a fire in the center of the room, she smells more soup.

He doesn’t notice her sit up this time. It doesn’t matter, she doesn’t feel quite so dizzy, though her stomach is rumbling again. A quick once over is all that she needs to know that she has, in fact, found a ghost town. She is sheltered in the hollowed guts of a house, chunks of plaster and stone litter the floor amid dust and dirt and teenier fragments of the wall and collapsing ceiling. There are a few pieces of furniture in the room; a chair that is missing a leg, a cracked mirror, and a discolored and dirty sofa with the stuffing weeping from a hole that has probably been created by chipmunk-mice.

The man glances over his shoulder. He is much older than she, at least her father’s age, and sports a rugged beard and scraggly hair. He offers her a smile. “I hope that ya don’t mind chowder, it’s all that I know how to cook well.”

“That’s fine.” She replies. Evidently she is willing to eat damn near anything at this point. “Where’s my mongoose-lizard?”

He jabs his thumb towards the window. “Have ‘im tied up out there. Ya can bring ‘im in if ya want.”

She shakes her head, “he’ll be fine out there, I can’t imagine that many people pass through here.”

“Yer the first I’ve seen.” He hands her a bowl of chowder. “I only have one bowl, but I’ll let ya use it first.”

She nods again and cups her hands around it. It is pleasantly hot on her hand and it smells divine. As divine as fish can smell. She supposes that the vegetable touch makes it more bearable. It doesn’t taste as unappetizing as she had anticipated.

“Where are ya headed?”

She shrugs as she takes another bite. She eats faster than she probably should, at an impolite, rather greedy pace. The sort that her father would have chastised her for. This man seems faintly humored, delighted even. “Good, right? My wife taught me how to make it!”

“I don’t usually eat fish. I don’t like fish.” She takes another bite. “So if I can actually tolerate it, it must be well made.” She clarifies.

He chuckles. “Good to know.”

She hands him the emptied bowl.

“Feeling better now.”

“Quite.”

“Yer Fire Nation nobility aren’t ya?”

“What makes you say that?”

“Ya talk like one’a the educated folk. I also ain’t hear no Earth Kingdom folk with that kin’a accent.”

“And it doesn’t bother you. To talk with a Fire National?”

“War’s been over for a few years now. Yer kin’s as good as my kin.” She thinks, fleetingly that her kin is better than his. Superior. She keeps that much to herself. She is, afterall, on the same level as he. At least for the time being. She ought not be. She ought to be in the palace getting pampered. Again she wonders what has compelled her to flee so far from home. She can only chalk it up to the throes of insanity. No. That isn’t it at all. It was a moment of clarity. She can’t yet bring herself to admit it, but she needs to change. If not she, than something in her life needs to change. And this propels her here.

“Why are you here all alone?” She inquires.

He chuckles again, “I believe I asked you first.”

She gives an indignant snort, “I’m not headed anywhere at all…” She trails off.

“Hmm…”

She pulls her legs up to her chest and listens to the crackle of the fire. “Can I accompany you for a while?”

He mulls it over. “These plains are mighty lonely.” He agrees. “How’s this? Ya let me ride on the mongoose-lizard and I’ll help you replenish your food supply.”

It sounds well enough to her. “We’ll spend the night here and depart at sunrise.”

“Ya cold?”

“A little, yes.”

He shuffles around in his pack, pulls out a blanket, and hands it to her. “I just washed it in the river earlier taday.”

On this night she learns what it means to be generous.

.oOo.

When she tries to stand, she finds that it is difficult. She is still so sapped and spent. She takes one step and nearly topples. Sokka catches her and leads her back to the bed. She curls herself up under the covers and closes her eyes. If nothing else she can savor the plushness of the mattress and the fluffiness of the pillows. It is nice to get reacquainted with luxury even if it is somewhat disorienting. She snuggles her cheek against the silk bed sheets and yawns.

“I take it, that you’d rather get a tour some other time?” Sokka asks.

“Yes, another time.” Azula replies. “I don’t feel well.”

“You look a little pale under that sunburn.”

She is too tired to muster up a sardonic response.

“Should I get one of the doctors?”

Azula shakes her head. “I just need more rest, I think.”

“Do you want me to stay or am I just annoying?”

“Yes.”

“Yes I’m annoying or yes I can stay?”

“Yer annoying but you can stay.”

He laughs.

“Yer supposed to be offended.”

“I’m not laughing at that.” Sokka gives a goofy grin.

“What then?”

“Nothing.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “yer just different is all.”

She rolls away from him, a tinge of pink spreading over her cheeks. “I can still do unspeakably horrible things to you, peasant.” She warns.

“You won’t though.”

“How do you know?”

“I can just tell.” He shrugs. “Can you tell me about it? About your travels; I have a feeling that you’ve got some good stories.”

She shakes her head. “I’m going to try to sleep, Sokka.”

“Alright, well I’ll tell you a few stories!”

Azula groans. She thinks that this might only serve to encourage him. Bothersome it may be, but she can’t help but feel comforted. Once again, she isn’t alone anymore.

[writehardwhumpharder]

Carson - Magical Healing and Fainting drabble

This takes place after Carson and Daniel have known each other for a while and live in the same apartment building but Daniel still doesn’t know about his magic.

"I said no." Carson said through gritted teeth. He had himself firmly braced against the door, trying to close it despite the desperate 30 year old woman fighting him from the other side.

"Please, I know you can do it. Doctors can't help him." She begged.

Carson's heart clenched and for a second he almost let go of the door. But a voice in his head warned him, you can't save everyone. You can't let your heart melt for every sad mother who comes to you for help, no matter how much you might want to.

"I can't help him either. I don't know where you got this address but you need to leave now." He growled.

Tears streamed down the women's face. She was an ugly crier, it was ugly because you could see just how much she was hurting.

"I'm serious I'll call the police." He threatened.

Her hands slipped from the door as she sank to her knees. She wasn't pushing anymore, Carson could easily close the door and be done with it but something wouldn't let him. She sobbed loudly, loudly enough for the whole building to hear her.

Whether coincidentally or because of all the noise, Daniel came down the stairs just then, approaching slowly. He made eye contact with Carson from afar and his face contorted in a way that said, "what the fuck is going on?"

The woman must have heard the stairs creak because her head whipped toward him and suddenly she was on her knees. "Please, please convince him to heal my son," she begged. Daniel shot him an uncomfortable look.

"Listen, he can't convince me to heal your son any more than he can convince himself to fly." Carson snapped. He didn't want to be rude, but he really needed this lady to leave.

"I know you have the magic to do it."

Carson opened the door a little wider and squatted down to her level, he stared her hard in the eyes, "No one has that kind of magic. Why don't you go and take your son to an actual doctor?"

She rubbed the snot dripping from her nose onto her jacket sleeve between sobs and Carson couldn't help but cringe a little. "It's incurable..." she choked out, "he needs a miracle, he needs you."

Daniel edged closer, still utterly confused about whatever was going on outside Carson's door. The woman was a wreck, not entirely rational, but a sliver of doubt crept into his mind at her words. What if Carson could do what she was asking him to do? Why come here if she didn't really believe that he could somehow cure her son?

"Um, Miss? How about I walk you to your car, okay?" Daniel tried to gently grab her arm to help her up but she shrugged him off.

"I'm not leaving!" She screamed. Carson leaned through his door to get a look at her car. She had parking directly in front of the building, completely disregarding the rather obvious no parking sign there. Then on her way in she left the main door wide open so cold air could spill into the lobby. That's how he ended up with a perfect view of the 5 year old boy in the backseat of her station wagon. He looked... eerily like Carson at that age. Was this some kind of cruel joke on the universe's part?

Suddenly he was struck with an idea as Daniel continued trying to cajole the woman to her feet. "If I heal him, will you leave?" He asked with a mischievous smile.

She stopped sobbing, or more likely, she stopped breathing. After a few long seconds of collecting herself she looked up at him with hopeful eyes. "Really?"

I am such a sucker, he cursed at himself in his head but still kept up the facade that he wasn't serious about healing him.

Pushing past her quickly Carson stormed across the front lawn towards the car. Daniel ran out after him. "Wait what are you gonna do?" He asked.

Carson threw open the car door to expose the very startled child inside. "I'm going to heal him of course," he winked.

Daniel rubbed at his face. Sure the woman was causing a scene but pretending to save her child was not the way to get rid of her. "Come on, Carson, stop messing around."

"Who says I'm messing around?" He smiled smugly. "Come on kid, give me your hand," he ordered. The child looked to his mom who was just emerging from the building, she nodded and he stuck his hand out for Carson to grab.

"Oh dear lord in heaven, please heal this child! Use me as a conduit for your holy power." Carson yelled up at the sky, the more theatrics the better. To his annoyance the woman actually clasped her hands together to pray, blindly believing in his charade.

Now for the actual magic. Carson held onto the kid's hand and closed his eyes, using his senses to find all the cancerous cells in his body. There were clusters of them all throughout his lymphatic system, more than he'd ever sensed in a client before. His plan wouldn't work very well if he immediately passed out right after so he cracked an eye open and ushered the mom over.

"He needs some of your life force," Carson said. The woman didn't hesitate to run the rest of the way to the car and offer up her hand. Usually life energies wouldn't be compatible enough to make a direct transfer. As a soul magician he was somewhat of a universal donor which is why he was able to heal people using his own soul energy. In this case, having direct parent to child connection, especially with such a young child, it just might work. Meanwhile Daniel just stood on the grass scowling at Carson thinking he was pulling a nasty prank on this poor mother which was exactly what he wanted him to think.

With the child's hand in his left, and the mother's hand in his right, Carson made the exchange. It took a couple minutes to find every cancerous cell and destroy it. If he missed even one the cancer could come back. As the energy moved through him he knew that the match wasn't perfect, it helped a lot but he'd still end up using more of his own soul than he wanted. It was unfortunate the cancer was so progressed. Kids were known to have extraordinarily bright souls, if she'd come sooner he probably could have used the boy's own energy to heal him.

Once he was done Carson took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Darkness crept into his vision immediately and he was forced to lean on the car door to stay upright.

"Well, he's cured. So you can get off my lawn now." Carson said.

The woman looked at her son, who visually looked the exact same as he did a moment ago, and beamed.

"Oh thank you so much, thank you. And thank God-"

"Don't thank god." Carson interjected.

She didn't listen and continued thanking him. Just as Carson was about to get irritated about doing such a difficult job for free she reached into the passenger seat and grabbed an envelope. The mom pressed it into his hands and clasped hers around his so he couldn't let go of it. "This is all I have."

Daniel shook his head adamantly but the woman insisted and upon Carson's urging, hustled back into her car and pulled away from the curb.

"You are the actual worst," Daniel stated after she was gone.

Carson peeked into the envelope, "there's only $600 in here, I can sleep at night."

Daniel's eyes widened and his jaw tensed, "You better find her and give that back."

A wave of dizziness hit Carson suddenly and he almost stumbled. Alright, time to leave while he still looked like an asshole. On shaky legs Carson walked back towards his apartment.

"You know, you look kinda pale." Daniel said, brows furrowing.

"I don't get a lot of sun," Carson deflected.

"But..."

He wanted to argue further, make it into his apartment and shut the door behind him before collapsing, but his body had other plans. The front door was in sight, just a few feet away, but then it started tipping. Black spots overtook his vision but not before he saw the ground rushing him towards him.

"Carson!" Someone screamed. But it was too late. He was already face down on the grass, dead to the world.

Daniel ran over to him, flipping him over so he could see his face. "What's... what's wrong with you?" He asked uselessly. Then he looked in the direction that the car sped off in. It was just a coincidence... right?

[palmviolet]

Could you write a fanfic where Joyce gets hurt or is sick, and Hopper freaks out? You are an amazing writer!

thank you so much!! this is probably fluffier than you were intending but enjoy anyway :) 

continued under the cut / read on AO3

The door is unlocked when Hopper arrives, and he doesn’t bother to knock. He’s been around frequently enough in the past few months that his presence is expected, now. Hardly a surprise. He enters the house and immediately he’s struck by how goddamn hot it is inside, like the very walls are radiating heat. There’s a worn out fan spluttering in the corner of the room and Will is slumped on the sofa, fanning himself uselessly with a comic.

“Damn, it’s hot in here. You got the heating on or something?”

Will raises an eyebrow but doesn’t look up, like he’d be exerting too much energy in doing so. “Ha. Funny.” He’s clearly not in the mood so Hopper goes by him into the kitchen with a small grin, to find Jonathan filling up ice bags by the tap to be frozen.

“Hey,” he says as Hopper comes in. “Do you think you could have a look at our fridge? I swear it’s not as cold as it should be.”

“I think that’s just the weather,” he says, but goes over anyway. “Where’s your mom?”

“Oh, she’s- uh-”

He swings around and fixes the kid with a stern look. “Where is she?”

Jonathan, to his credit, holds out longer than most people do under his glare. But still he eventually caves, his shoulders dropping. “She’s throwing up in the bathroom. She- she told me not to tell you. She didn’t want to worry you. This ice is for her, actually.”

Hopper stops in his tracks. “What?” Joyce is sick? And she asked her son to lie to him about it?

Jonathan shrugs apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s always like this. She doesn’t like to make a fuss. She wouldn’t let me call the doctor even though she collapsed at Melvald’s yesterday-”

“She collapsed?!” Hopper doesn’t wait to hear anymore, turning immediately to go down the corridor to the bathroom.

“Wait-”

He looks around slowly, not even bothering to conceal his death glare. If Jonathan so much as dares to suggest he shouldn’t go in there-

“Take this.” The kid pours out a glass of water and hands it to him with a weak smile. “She’s not gonna want to see you, so at least pretend you’re only being helpful.”

Hopper huffs out a sigh but takes it, and after a reluctant moment he touches Jonathan on the shoulder. “Thanks, kid.” He’s a good kid, really. All Joyce, no Lonnie. Thank god.

When he reaches the bathroom he finds the door slightly ajar, but he knocks anyway.

Joyce’s voice from within is raspy and tired but somehow still fiery. “Jonathan- I told you, I’m fine-”

Hopper doesn’t let her finish. He pushes the door open and she falls silent, looking at him guiltily. She’s hunched next to the toilet with her cheek pressed against the pedestal of the sink, which is no doubt nice and cool in the summer heat. Hair tied back loosely, messy strands falling out around her face. Gray vest top, patterned with sweat stains, tucked into a pair of gym shorts he could swear he saw her wear in high school. But even like this - even with her face flushed, eyes bright with fever - she’s beautiful.

At least, until she turns back to the toilet and retches again. He lunges forward, leaving the water glass on the floor, and holds back a lock of hair that’s come loose. When she’s done she looks round at him, her smile faint and exhausted. “Hey,” she says softly, leaning back against the pedestal of the sink and closing her eyes. He sits down too, lowering himself to the floor with a pained grunt that tells him he’s getting older.

“Hey. What’s this about passing out in Melvald’s, huh?”

“I didn’t ‘pass out’. I was just- dizzy, for a bit, and then suddenly everyone was making a fuss and Donald- he sent me home.”

“That’s not what I heard,” he says, quirking an eyebrow as he leans over and passes her the glass of water. She accepts it gratefully, all but gulping it down. “And you wouldn’t let Jonathan call the doctor? Joyce, what if it’s something serious-”

“It’s not. It’s just- there’s no air conditioning in the store, not since it broke last year and Donald’s too cheap to fix it. It was hot, that’s all.”

“And that’s why you’re currently hugging the toilet?”

She glares at him, but the effect is rather ruined by her dishevelled appearance. “The least you could do if you’re gonna come in here is give me some sympathy. If not, just get out.”

He softens. “I’m just worried about you. When are you gonna start taking care of yourself, not just other people?”

“It’s just a bug. I’m not going to the doctor for that- it’s expensive-”

“And if it’s an emergency? Joyce- you look really sick.”

She scoffs. “Thanks.”

“No- Jesus, Joyce, won’t you listen to me?” He scrubs a hand over his face. He knew she was stubborn, but this is a whole new level. And this - sitting on the floor of the bathroom by the toilet, offering a water glass and gestures of support - is all too familiar. Sara didn’t have any hair to hold back by the end but she spent whole days hunched by the toilet, just as Joyce is now. Hopper feels a little nauseous himself at the thought.

She sighs, leaning her head back and closing her eyes again. “Okay,” she says finally, ever so quietly. “If I’m not feeling any better tomorrow - yes, tomorrow, “ she adds without opening her eyes, as if she knew he was about to protest, “- I’ll see the doctor. You happy now?”

He sighs. Not entirely, if he’s honest. Of course he’s not. He hates seeing her like this - feverish, and tired. She still has the energy to snipe at him - if ever she didn’t, he really would be worried - but it lacks its usual teasing bite. “Yeah, I guess,” he says finally. Then, to his eternal surprise, she reaches out and takes his hand.

“Thank you,” she says.

“For what?”

“For not letting Jonathan turn you away. I-” She sighs. “I didn’t want you to make a fuss, which is, well, exactly what you did, but I’m glad you’re here anyway.”

He smiles a little, squeezes her hand. He can feel her pulse fluttering away weakly under his thumb. “Do you wanna go lie down?”

She opens her eyes and looks at him. “If you say ‘because it looks like you need it’, I swear to god, James Hopper, I cannot be held responsible for my actions.”

“I wasn’t going to say that. Scouts’ honor.” He helps her to her feet, trying to suppress the flutters of alarm at how heavily she leans on him. Guides her down the corridor to lie on her bed, the covers dumped in a heap on the floor. She doesn’t need any more heat - she’s burning up. “I’m gonna find you a fan that works, okay?”

On his way down the corridor he comes across Jonathan just hanging up the phone. The kid looks at him and for the first time Hopper notices the ever-present worry in his eyes. “How is she?”

“She’s gonna be okay. I got her to promise to let us take her to the doctor’s tomorrow, if she’s not any better.”

Jonathan breathes what is very obviously a sigh of relief. “Okay, good.” The us goes unquestioned. “That was Mr Melvald, on the phone. He wants to know when Mom’s coming back to work.”

“That asshole-” Hopper has to resist slamming a fist into the wall. That fucking asshole. He doesn’t fix his air conditioning and gets Joyce sick, and then has the audacity to demand her presence at the store again? He has half a mind to go down there and beat some sense into the guy, or arrest him. It’s a sue-able offence, at the very least. Maybe he could convince Joyce- with the right lawyer-

But all that’s beside the point.

“Have you got a fan that works anywhere?”

Jonathan shakes his head. “There’s the one in the front room but- well, you saw it. It doesn’t exactly ‘work’.”

He thinks for a moment, then pulls out his wallet. “Okay, here’s what you’re gonna do. Go to the store - not Melvald’s, though he probably doesn’t even sell them, the bastard - and buy a new fan with this.” He presses a few bills into Jonathan’s hand.

As predicted, the kid bristles. “I can pay myself-” he protests, trying to give the money back, but Hopper shakes his head.

“It’s on me, kid. Save your money in case you need to fix the fridge.”

Jonathan looks at him for a long, silent while. Then, warily, slowly, like he thinks Hopper might grab it back, he puts the bills in his pocket. “Thanks. I’ll- um, I’ll go now. Oh, and don’t-”

“-Tell your mom. I got it.” Hopper gives him a smile and the kid leaves, still looking a little bewildered. Hopper is determined to get them to accept his help, at least occasionally, at least a tiny bit. And if takes him asking for his change back to make Jonathan feel independent - well. It’s a small price to pay.

He finds an already frozen bag of ice in the freezer and brings it down the corridor along with a fresh glass of water, which he places quietly on Joyce’s bedside table. She’s dozing, but at his approach she shifts and looks at him in the gloom. Her curtains are drawn against the heat, but it’s still ridiculously warm.

“Got you some ice,” he says quietly. She takes it and presses it to her neck with a soft sigh of relief. It leaves her skin damp, trails of water trickling down into her top, and he has to very deliberately avoid looking down at her cleavage. “You should try and get some sleep. You’ll feel better.”

“Sit with me for a bit?” Her voice is tentative. He thinks, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

Over the course of the next few hours she starts shivering, her skin clammy, and he has to rush her to the bathroom at least three times so she can bring up the meagre contents of her stomach, but Jonathan’s fan seems to help and that evening the fever passes. Hopper stays with her til long after then, when she’s fallen so deeply asleep it’s only the faint rise and fall of her chest that lets him know she’s still alive.

This wasn’t what he expected when he came here, he has to admit. He expected to sit her down and ask her - cautiously, just in case - to go to dinner with him. Someplace nice. Enzo’s, maybe. But obviously that didn’t work out.

He’ll ask her next time.

[uaxreaders]

I’m new to tumblr but i really like your writing. I was wondering if you could do “I- I can’t hear! I can’t hear anything!” i hope i’m asking on the right spot 😅

Thank you for your request!

Character: Katsuki Bakugou

Quirk: pulling the moisture from the air and being able to control it.

The morning had started off with a call alerting th agency to a possible villain hideout discovered in an apartment complex that was being renovated. Ground Zero and I were the two sent to check it out in case it turned out to be a legit threat. Sure enough er spotted a semi large group of villains hanging around the complex. Being as the villains seemed like lower level thugs we thought we could handle it on our own so we didn’t bother calling for backup. Little did we know just how wrong we would be.

With a loud boom and a burst of light the villain in front of us was tossed into the crumbling apartment wall. “Nice one babe!” I cheered as another villain made his way over to me. I focused on pulling a majority of the moisture from the air pulling it to me before pushing it full force at the villain. The force from the water sent him flying backwards. Bakugou looked to me with a look of pride plastered on his features.

The two of us continued our way farther into the building encountering ten or so more mid level villains. One after one they were taken down with very little effort. This seems like it was any other mission and Bakugou and I would be out in time for lunch. I went ahead up the next floor leaving Bakugou to take care of the last guy on the floor below. I let out a gasp when I came face to face with someone I thought was long gone.

There in front of me stood Hero Killer: Stain but with upgraded weapons. Although Bakugou and I weren’t around for his original attacks we had heard about the commotion from our classmates. We had heard just how hard the fight was and what he put Iida through. Shigaraki stepped outside from the shadows joining his colleague. This whole thing had been merely a set up.

The next thing I knew I was struggling in the arms of the villain named Dabi as he dragged me towards the others. Bakugou came running upstairs his cocky grin falling when he saw me struggling against Dabi. I pulled the moisture from the air but struggled to get my arms to move enough for it to hit anyone. “Let her go.” Bakugou growled aiming his gauntlet towards the LOV. “Not so fast you hit us, you hit her.” Shigaraki pointed out.

“What do you want?” I spat thrashing against my captor. Dabi made no sign of moving, in fact it seemed like he was purposely keeping me in one spot. “What we’ve always wanted. For Ground Zero to come join us. Where he belongs.” Dabi said grinning his terrifying grin.

Bakugou scoffed rolling his eyes. “Not a chance!” He yelled back. Dabi began to cause a small flame on his hand releasing one of my arms from his grasp. He pressed the hand to my shoulder burning my skin. With a loud painful scream I focused my energy into barading him with the moisture from the air. Dabi was sent backwards to where the others were standing.

Bakugou lifted his gauntlets ready to attack. It was then I noticed the sound proof plugs that were in the villains ears as well as the smiles that adorned their faces when Bakugo was ready to fire. “Ground Zero wait!” I tried to warn but it was too late. Bakugou fired causing a large explosion. The noise that followed his attack was unlike any I’ve heard from Bakugou’s attacks.

All I saw was a bright white light followed by a loud ringing filling my ears. I blinked a few times and the blinding light was replaced by black dust. The villains no longer stood where they had been having made their escape. I moved my hands to feel around my surroundings I was laying on the floor some fallen rubble surrounding me. My injuries seemed to just consist of small cuts and bruises.

A frantic Bakugou appeared crouching in front of me. He discarded his gauntlet to the ground waving his hand in front of my face. I could see his mouth moving but still couldn’t hear a word he was saying. I blinked a few times my hands coming up to my ears. When my hands returned to my face they both had blood coviering the fingertips.

Bakugou’s eyes were filled with worry as he kept trying to talk to me. The combination of shock and pain was making my head spin. The sudden dizziness made my eyes drop before finally closing. I could feel my body being lifted off the ground into my fiancé’s familiar arms. The last thing I felt was him holding me close before I slipped into darkness.

*Bakugou’s pov*

I paced around the hospital waiting room my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I was still dressed in my dust covered hero costume that had a small blood stain just on the shoulder where (Y/n)’s head had been resting. I was practically seething towards my own stupidity. How could I have fallen for such an obvious trap? Because of me my girl was now in a hospital operating room.

“Bakugou? Bakugou! Bro what happened?” Kirishima asked as he came running into the room. “We went to check out a villain hideout and it turned out to be a trap. I went to fire an explosion at them and the next thing I know there was this huge explosion.” I explained not bringing my eyes up to meet my best friends worried gaze.

“Isn’t that what usually happens? You’ve never accidentally hurt someone with your quirk before?” He asked still confused. “It wasn’t just my explanation. It surrounded us, like they placed bombs in the walls or something.” I growled back angrily. “That’s exactly what happened.

The police have found at least 15 stun bombs and two real bombs hidden inside the walls of the floor you were on.” Deku explained appearing with Uraraka behind him. “How is she?” Pink cheeks asked setting some flowers down on the table. “I don’t know these assholes won’t tell me shit!” I barked towards the reception desk. The man sitting there rolled his eyes going back to his magazine. “I’m sure she’ll be ok!” Kirishima smiled his toothy grin except I could see the nervousness behind it.

I returned my glance back to the small blood stain that was barely visible on the black of my costume. Her confused pain riddled face returned to my memory. The way the blood spilled down from her ears and onto her neck. Her lack of responses to my questions, it was all too much I needed air. “Out of my way extras.” I grumbled pushing past them.

I made my way through a hallway till I found a door that read roof entry. Since no one was looking I made my way up to the roof. Once I was out of sight I felt my breathing getting more and more rapid. My heartbeat sped up and I clutched at my chest. Warm tears began to fill my eyes threatening to fall.

“Bro I’m sure she’ll be ok. You got her here really fast.” Kirishima spoke from behind me making me jump and harshly rub the tears away. “What do you want shitty hair?” I barked not facing him. “It’s ok to be sad man. I mean you love her, it’s ok if you wanna cry.” He continued.

I listened to his words thinking carefully about that word. I do love her, I loved her more than anything but here she was in the hospital because of me. She might be deaf because of my recklessness. She was going to be heartbroken when she woke up. She’d never get to hear her favorite songs again, listen to her favorite movies, I’d no longer be able to whisper I love you’s in her ear making her giggle.

The thoughts that circled my mind broke my heart even further. This was all my fault. I collapsed to my knees on the ground letting the panic attack wash over me. As I struggled to breathe through sobs I felt Kirishima place a comforting hand on my shoulder. “This is all my fucking fault!” I screamed out in a voice riddled with pain.

“I did this! Not Dabi or Stain or Shigaraki! Me! It’s my fucking fault she’s in a hospital bed! If I had thought things through like that damn nerd she’d be ok!” I choked out angrily.

“Don’t talk like that! (Y/n) would smack you for even thinking it! Keep talkin like that I’ll do it for her.” Kirishima said a bit of humor behind the last part. I let out a small snort shaking my head. “I’d kill you.” I laughed rubbing the tears away from my face.

After a few minutes to catch my breath I stood up nodding a silent thank you to my friend. “Not a word of this to anyone shitty hair.” I spoke leaning on the railing. “My lips are sealed Bakubro!” He said grinning. I felt a little better after letting it all out but there was something lingering on my mind. I knew deep down it was just an insecurity but I had to ask.

“What if she hates me after this?” I asked in a barely audible voice. Kirishima looked taken back by my words. He was struggling to find a way to tell me I’m stupid without getting his ass kicked. It might be stupid but I had to get this out. I took a deep breath before continuing.

“It won’t happen all at once. At first she’ll tell me it’s not my fault, that her and I will learn to cope. But then slowly she’ll start to resent me. Eventually she won’t be able to see the man she loves anymore. I’ll just be the guy that took away her hearing.”

“Bakugou she could never hate or resent you. For whatever reason that girl in there looks at you like your her everything. I doubt she’ll ever see this as your fault. Besides you heard Deku it was the villains who planted those bombs.” He said trying to reassure me. It was no use I couldn’t get her face out of my head.

The door clicking open made us spin around quickly seeing Uraraka. “The doctor’s looking for you Bakugou.” She said a worried smile on her face. I nodded looking towards Kirishima one last time before following her out. The three of us made our way back to the waiting room where several more classmates had joined Deku. The doctor stood speaking briefly with Deku before seeing me.

“Ah Mr. Bakugou, Miss (Y/L/n) just got out of surgery and is being transferred to a room as we speak.” She informed me. “How is she?” I asked crossing my arms over my chest. The doctor frowned gesturing towards a seat. “Why don’t you have a seat?” She asked. I narrowed my eyes at the woman to say I wasn’t fucking moving.

“I’m afraid (Y/n) is suffering from Noise-Induced Hearing Loss. NIHL usually happens over time by exposure to loud noises but can also be caused by extremely loud bursts of sound. Such as gunshots or explosions, which can rupture the eardrum or damage the bones in the middle ear. In her case it was a bit of both as the explosion sped the process up damaging both her ears. The bones in her middle ears were severely damaged beyond repair and from the looks of it she will suffer from permanent hearing loss.

The exposure to the explosion may also cause her to experience some tinnitus, which is a ringing, or a buzzing in the ears or head. In her case the Tinnitus should subside over time, but she might experience it occasionally throughout her life” she explained. It was true, I had caused my fiancé to go deaf. She would never hear again because of me. My breathing was quickening again and the sounds of the outside world began to drown out.

“What about hearing aids those won’t work?” Asked a tear covered Uraraka. The doctor shook her head. “The damage was too extensive.” He explained. “I’ll go check to see if she’s able to have visitors yet.” The doctor continued excusing herself. All of my friends turned to eye me.

“I’ll be back.” I mumbled walking off from the group. They tried calling after me and I’d assume Kirishima tried to follow but was stopped by Mina. I made my way up the staircase and down a hallway. Any nurses and doctors I passed eyed my visitor badge shocked. I could hear them whispering reasons why I could be there since I didn’t look hurt, little did they know I was dying inside.

I passed by a big window the belonged to the nursery. A man was standing there with tears eyes looking at one of the girls. I couldn’t help but feel my heart break a little bit knowing (Y/n) would never get to hear our future baby laugh or cry. “Which one is yours?” The man asked looking away from the window briefly. I looked towards the man confused.

“Oh uh none of them my fiancé is in the emergency room. I got lost wandering around.” I mumbled. He nodded returning his gaze to the baby. “Will she be alright?” He asked. “She’ll live she’ll just be deaf for the rest of her life.” I said angry towards myself.

He turned back to me looking me up and down. “At least she’s alive. I know it hurts knowing she’ll never be the same. That this is all so scary. I’m sure you’ve convinced yourself she’s leaving you the minute she’s conscious but if you truly love each other that’s not that case. Now is not the time for you to break down and hate yourself.

You need to keep your chin up and go back in there and be her rock. If you can’t swallow your anger for yourself do it for her. She needs you now more than ever. The next few months will make her life hell. Surely a hero like yourself can make that easier on her.”

I was shocked by his words blinking a few times. But he was completely right. “You’re right. Thank you.” I mumbled checking to make sure none of my friends had followed me. “Congratulations sir.” I said stepping closer to the glass.

“Thank you. My wife was diagnosed with cancer very early in our relationship. We sat down and had a talk about whether or not we would stay together. She gave me a week to think about it and I almost agreed with her on ending things. Instead I stayed with her and here we are 12 years later.

This is baby number 3 and I couldn’t be happier. Sure the cancer is still there and we don’t know if she’ll ever get into remission or not. But we know to enjoy the time we have because she’s alive now. That’s what matters.” He smiled. His speech brought a smile to my face imagining (Y/n) and I 12 years from now.

I reached out shaking the man’s hand gratefully. “Thank you! I’ve gotta go!” I exclaimed quickly making my way to the gift shop. I purchased the biggest bouquet they had, several balloons, a stuffed Pomeranian, and a cute little notebook. Once I was done with my shopping I made my way back to the lobby where the doctor was talking with the receptionist.

“She should just waking up from the anesthesia so she might be a little foggy still but you’re welcome to go see her.” The doctor informed me. I nodded towards her snatching a couple pens off the reception desk. Before the receptionist could protest the doctor waved him off so I made my way into her room. I couldn’t help the small sink of my heart upon seeing her like this. Despite being injured and groggy she still looked so beautiful.

A man in scrubs was checking her machines and writing things on his clipboard. (Y/n) has her head down looking over a piece of paper. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she struggled to blink them away. Noticing my presence the nurse smiled sympathetically before stepping out of the room. When (Y/n)’s eyes met mine they almost seemed to brighten. “Katsuki! You’re here!” She said a weak smile on her face.

I wanted so badly to go on and on about how much I love her and happy I was that she was ok but it would be to no use. So instead I settled for a nod setting her presents on a side table keeping ahold of the notebook and pens. More tears began to fall down her perfect cheeks. “I-I can’t hear! I can’t hear anything!” She choked out in broken sobs.

I frowned coming to stand by her side. The first thing I did was wrap my arms around her shaking form. She clung to my shirt crying mumbling incoherent sentences about all the things she couldn’t do. Her angry fists bunched up parts of my costume as I let her hurt as much as she needed. When she had settled down some I pulled away nudging for her to move over sitting next to her on the bed.

First I used a tissue to clean off her face before softly kissing her lips a couple times. I set the notebook between the two of us. I tried to come up with the words to say how sorry I am but nothing came. She placed a hand over my hand that held a pen. “Suki say something please.” She whispered so I began to scribble down how I felt.

(Y/n), I’m so sorry. I should have thought things through. I should have listened to you and waited. If I hadn’t been so arrogant none of this shit would be happening.

“Katsuki Bakugou don’t you talk like that none of this is your fault!”

I know the villains planted bombs but still I wish more than anything I could take it back or switch places with you. I’d give anything to be in your place instead.

“I know baby. You’re still my hero don’t forget that.”

I may not be able to take your place but I’m going to do anything and everything in my power to make your life easier and as close to how it was before. We can take a sign language class together, and I’ll look into deaf heroes. I’m sure that nerd knows of a few. Maybe they have tips on how to train.

“I love you so much Suki.”

I love you too. So fucking much. This whole thing has me thinking.

“Oh no that can be dangerous.”

Haha dumb ass. But I’m serious.

“Ok what are you thinking about?”

How much time I wasted not telling you how I felt or not telling you how beautiful you are. I should have been telling you that shit every day but I didn’t. Instead I called you dumb ass or shitty woman. You deserve to remember being called beautiful. That’s gonna change now. I’ll write it and sign it every single day.

“Oh Katsuki!”

After reading that message she threw her arms around my neck holding me close. I pulled her body towards mine not wanting to let go. The two of us stayed like that till we both drifted off to sleep. I was gonna make sure she never regretted staying with me. If she still saw me as a hero that’s who I was gonna be.

[weeo]

The last time I saw the sun

Pairing : Tommy Shelby x Freddie Thorne

Summary : The 179th Tunneling Company works under the Flanders fields. At the end of November 1915, the tunnel collapses, blown up by a German camouflet. All the company is buried alive, with the sole exception of three tunnellers.

Warnings : War, Mentions of death and asphyxia, Lack of air, PTSD, Survival, Anxiety attacks.

AO3 link

Flanders, end of november 1915

My breathing is stopped for a few moments, when my chest crashes violently against the ground. It’s dark. I can’t see anything and the metallic taste of the dirt fills my mouth, as I’m attempting to catch my breath. There is no air around me and I’m starting to feel dizzy. I’m trying to flounder but my limbs barely move. I know where I am. Buried under kilometers of earth, squashed by tons of clay. The good news is that I’m going to leave France. Finally.

———–

Tommy’s hand is pulled brutally and urgently. He’s being freed from the ground’s claws, lifted painfully of the clay by the undersides of his shoulders. The two topple over backwards, caught up by the force used to pull him out of the ground. They inevitably drag Tommy down with them. His face and his chest are prepared to hit the soil once again, but they bounce back with less force against the torso of one of his rescuer. Instinctively, Tommy inhales a big gasp of oxygen and the air fills up his lungs wildly. While his shaky breathing takes a few seconds to steady, he forces his eyes to open and discerns again an ounce of light through the damp clots of mud which stick to his face. It’s while moving slightly his body, that he notices an arm encloses his waist. Another covers the side of his head, pressing him more in this familiar chest, which starts vibrating all of a sudden.

“You’ve been lucky Tommy,”

He could recognise this voice among millions. He has already made him come to his senses several times. Freddie is always the first to speak, after miraculously getting out of troubles.

“A damn lucky bastard!”

In another situation, Tommy would have smiled against his friend’s chest. He wouldn’t have in any way needed to make the effort to lift his head, to be sure that Freddie was doing the same. However, they aren’t the children they used to be anymore. They aren’t in Small Heath, swimming from one side to the other of the canal banks or running to avoid being taken home by a panting police officer. So, there is no smiles today.

Danny coughs quietly, alerting them of his presence. Tommy forces himself up self-consciously, laying eyes on him.

“Danny, where is the bird ?”

Danny points the cage hanged on the wall. The canary isn’t panicked and even twirls peacefully, as if he has already forgotten the vicious dread he felt when the tunnel collapsed. Tommy would like to take its place, in order to feel that intangible serenity again. The fear, he is feeling since he set down a foot on this land, doesn’t ease with the time. Rather, it’s increasing, every nightmarish incident pushing it further, one notch at a time. A notch that never goes down, which is becoming your permanent level of fear. The more you know what can fall on you in this hell, the more you have reasons to let the terror consumes you from head to toes.

“I’ve already checked. The bird’s doing fine, Sir.”, Danny answers, sat against the wall of the tunnel.

Tommy completely pulls away from Freddie’s body to sit, still a bit dumbfounded by his underground stay. He dusts faintly his clothes, before realizing that it’s totally useless. The sight of their condition softens the movement of his hand. He is covered by dirt on his entire body. No corner of his skin is spared. Tommy raises his gaze, blinking through the candlelight coming from Danny’s hands.

“Good. We’re at least safe from the gas for now. And how is the air ?”

Freddie straightens himself, trying to see through the dim light as well.

“The light’s steady and won’t go out, but it’s dim.” Danny said, trying but failing to disguise the anguish in his voice.

Freddie lays his hand on Tommy’s collarbone, pressing soberly. The blocked air in Tommy’s contracted chest is released gently, in a sigh of relief. His gaze, that Freddie seeks to share, isn’t disturbed by this soothing gesture. Tommy stares stubbornly the canary in his cage, hanged on the wall in front of him.

“We couldn’t have expected better air, half buried in the ground.”, Freddie reassures them, unsure if he says it more for himself than his friends.

Danny’s hands, which tighten the candle with strength, are trembling. It creates a sinister moving light inside the tunnel. Their faces are worthy of a chiaroscuro painting. The light giving him a even more serious look, Tommy adds without blinking : “The rescue team might already be on the way. We’re not too far from the exit. We just have to hope that those fuckers didn’t dig a second counter tunnel to blow them up.”

To his own words, Tommy’s jaw is clenching. Freddie noticed that he does this often lately, when he can’t allow himself to start panicking. When he’s feeling caught in a vice and is looking for a quick solution. Gritting his teeth with all their strength prevents him to scream the frustration, which is already dripping from his furrowed eyebrows.

“What will we do… if-if they blow us up too ? …. Or if they can’t find us ? Di-did you think… about that ?” Danny panics, with an unstable voice. “And… And all those guys who’re buried… dead in-in the clay. We could pray for them”

“Yeah, we could have if it meant something here.” Freddie mocks. This isn’t a surprising answer coming from him, the only God he believes in is named Karl Marx.

Imperturbable, Tommy can’t take his eyes off the canary, which is a bit agitated in his cage. All the attention of his eyes is focused on the animal, but the part of his brain which controls his mouth is still with his teammates : “Now, we just have to sit and breathe slowly to keep the air pure, Danny. Just sit and breathe the fucking air slowly.”

Danny brings his right hand to his skull, to salute his superior.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I can already hear them dig. The rescue team isn’t far away. Breathe slowly.”

The ambiance is calm but stressful. The canary starts to grow agitated in his cage, but seems also a bit dizzy. It hits the bars and goes back to his perch.

Shattering the heavy silent atmosphere, a distant explosion is heard and makes the tunnel shakes. Gravels are falling on their heads and are tumbling on the walls of the tunnel. The wet timbers creak and the light of the candle is swirling. Tommy’s eyes leave the canary’s cage and he protects instinctively his head, as well as Freddie’s, by throwing them both on the ground. The timbers keep up and the silence settles again. They stay a few seconds petrified in their position, being on the lookout for a second explosion.

“It was just a shell up there.” Freddie mutters, patting his friend’s back.

Danny’s gasping breathing obliges them to come to their senses quicker than they would have liked. It’s not a pretty sight that they discover in front of them, but strangely familiar at the same time. Danny is shaking like a leaf, shudders rattling his whole body. Suffocating breaths are squeezing out of his thickening throat, choking the life from him second by second. Intermittently, he shouts baffling sentences and punches randomly, cutting the air with strength. Tommy and Freddie exchange a very brief look and jump on Danny, each on a side to try to control him.

“1,2,3! Down!”

Freddie blocks relatively easily Danny’s left shoulder on the ground. The other arm slips from Tommy’s hands and he receives a violent punch in the jaw. He attempts several times to block his right arm while avoiding punches in the face and finally ends up to tackle it on the ground.

“Danny, breathe !” Freddie orders, pressing harder on his shoulder to stick it against the ground.

Tommy brings his head closer to Danny’s ear, while tightening his grip on the biceps which is still struggling with energy. A few drops of blood mixed with saliva drip of the corner of his mouth, when he opens it to talk.

“Breathe, Danny! Breathe slowly. Listen to me ! Try to keep the rhythm of my own breathing.”

Tommy takes deep inhalations he’s releasing slowly, in order to encourage Danny to mimic his breathing. Danny’s gaze drifts unconsciously for a moment, lucidity bleeding in slowly. When his eyes meet a glimpse of Tommy’s, they finally focus. Tommy slows down his speech speed and the volume of his voice, to help him to calm down faster.

“It was just a shell up there. Breathe slowly. It’s just noise. You’ll get use to it, Danny. Follow my breath. It’s just noise that can’t harm you right now.”

Danny struggles to get back to his senses, his breathing easing, although it’s still agitated. Freddie and Tommy release him after a brief look of consultation and sprawl themselves on the walls behind each of them. There is still air all around them, but it feels tight, and diminished. A bit as if they were strangled bit by bit.

“I can hear them. They’re closer, they’re coming for us. Now we don’t move to save the remaining air !”, Tommy orders.

“I’m sorry, Sir. It keeps happening lately and I’m afraid to go mad.”, Danny apologises while fiddling on his clothes.

“Just the nerves, Danny. There is plenty of men like you in here. A fucking stressful place, it sure is. Stop talking and breathe slowly.”

Danny has his mouth opened to claim that the orders had been understood, but no words can leave it. A sudden noise was added to the rescuers’ shovels. The sound they hoped they wouldn’t hear since the tunnel has collapsed. The hollow sound of resonance against the wood that anguishes them all. The sound that Tommy were looking out for with apprehension when he was staring at the cage of the bird. The sound of the canary which falls from his perch.

The three men are petrified by this noise, which resonates in the tunnel. They turn their head towards the cage, to confirm that it isn’t their minds which were playing a trick on them. Tommy reacts suddenly with panic.

“PUT YOUR GAS MASKS!!”

The three men unhook a fabric pocket of their belt with shaking hands. They grab the masks out in a haste, pulling them over their faces. They received them a few weeks ago. After the gas attacks at Ypres, the British army started to produce protections. Calling it a gas mask is a big word. This is more a hood with a soaked compress in the area of the mouth. He never used it but he heard a lot about it. The men of the front line don’t discuss so much their feelings and fears, but are inexhaustible when it comes to criticizing their equipment and superiors.

“These new masks are easier to use but they’re deep shit.” Tommy remembers a discussion with the infantry men. “The other day, a soldier fainted in only 20 minutes.”, their words resonates in his skull more than ever.

Tommy gets up roughly to pick up the shovels at their disposal, which are lying in the tunnel, while Freddie and Danny still set up their masks.

“Tommy, what are you doing ?” Freddie hails.

“The only thing we learned here, digging”, on his last word, Tommy throws a shovel to Freddie’s feet. He clears pieces of wood, formerly parts of the tunnel timbers, and then digs with willingness in the clay.

“We don’t have a lot of time in front of us if we wanna get out of here alive, come on Freddie!”, he shouts and waves his hand.

Freddie joins him. His eyes wide and his hands shaking, he tries to help Tommy by alternatively digging and pushing annoying pieces of timber. His gestures are wild and uncoordinated.

“I’m digging, pick up the parts of timber you can save and make us safe!” Tommy instructed, seeing Freddie doesn’t really know how to manage the situation.

Behind them, Danny tries to stand and help, but his legs give out on him as he’s hit by a dizzy spell. Freddie glares annoyingly at him.

“Tommy, Danny isn’t feeling well…”

Tommy turns his head towards Danny, without really interrupting the work of his hands.

“Danny, listen to me ! Fucking stay down and breathe slowly ! We gonna get out of here.” Tommy shouts, without worrying about the noises the Germans could catch for once. His words echo in the tunnel, which is a really unusual thing for the three tunnelers.

An unknown voice can be heard behind the wall Tommy is digging in : “Is there someone here ? How many are you ?”. The tangled crumbled timbers let appear some small holes, enabling the communication with the rescue team behind the wall. They just need to shout what they have to say.

“We’re three. There is gas in here ! One man is already down. We need to be quick !” Tommy answers despite the distress, managing to keep a disconcertingly cool head. Freddie is persuaded that he wouldn’t have been able to explain their situation as quickly as Tommy had.

“You heard! We need to be quick, there is gas inside!”, the rescuer screams to his teammates.

Tommy is unable to stop digging. He’s choking on his breath, suffocating more with every hit of his shovel, but he can’t pause. A fatality he doesn’t have any power on would make him go insane. The rescuer’s tools hit harder and harder on the wall. They’re close.

While Freddie is blocking a piece of timber on the side of the wall to stabilise it, a strong headache is striking him and makes him see blinding glitters all around. He’s leaning against the wall, but the blurry lights assaulting his vision, blind him more and more. His legs are supporting him only precariously and he sits to regain a bit of strength. The air is increasingly unbreathable and burns his throat. He invests his few remaining forces in an effort to stand up, but Tommy places his hand on his chest to prevent him to do it.

“The air is better near the ground, just fucking stay down !”

Tommy brings his head nearer to the wall and shouts with strength : “We have a second man down ! I’m digging alone, we need to be quicker !”.

After another dozen hits of shovel, a hole is starting to form in the wall and some light is radiating from it. His survival frenzy seizes his body even more. Tommy hits violently the wall with his shovel and the small hole is now large enough to let a human pass.

The adrenaline prevented him to feel the nausea rising, but he experiences it full force now. The shape of the rescuer emerging from the hole is all blurry. The lips of the man move, and his voice is barely perceptible. It resonates to a low volume, muffled by his knocking headache. Only the piercing buzz, which is ringing vigorously in each of his ears, seems clear. He remembers he was shivering some seconds ago, but now, an unpleasant heat is spreading in every single one of his limbs. His face is burning and there’s no part of his body that isn’t sweating. The heat should have no impact on this but it seems to further deteriorate his vision. His head is spinning and he suddenly feels his body emptying the last bit of energy he had left.

Tommy forces his eyes open, realizing he must’ve closed them at some point and finds himself in the arms of the stranger who was facing him just before. He notes that the breathing of the man is really very noisy, before understanding that it’s amplified by the oxygen tanks he carries on his back.

“We only have two stretchers, Sir!”

“Put the two thinnest on the same and the strongest on the other, quick ! They need to breathe fresh air, they don’t have for long if they stay here”

He has no recollection of these voices. He still arduously breathes, his lungs burned by the gas. “Am I still in the tunnel or already in hell”, Tommy wonders, before realising that his eyelids are shutting down on their own. Everything is dark again.

It’s an aggressive light which brings Tommy to open his eyes one more time. His inflamed bronchus welcome the fresh air with some difficulty. He coughs and his irritated throat doesn’t spare him of strong pains. His lungs are raw, burned by the gas. However, the sun is caressing his body and warming his shivering skin. The pestilential effluviums of the tranchees are lightly covered by a familiar scent, tickling his nose. Tommy feels Freddie’s whole body pressed against him on the stretcher, shaking to the rhythm of the paramedics’ steps. He would never have noticed that his hands were trembling, if Freddie didn’t enclosed them discreetly between his own. Usually, it was Tommy who held Freddie’s hands when they were children. Freddie was so upset against everything and everyone, that he got in a lot of fights with petty boys. Occasionally, some things they said hit him right in the heart and the stables were a good place to drown all the sorrows. But today, it’s Tommy who needs Freddie.

Under the bright rays of sunshine, Tommy forgets for a while his burned throat and his erratic breathing. All he can think is : “It’s been months since I last saw the sun. How beautiful it is. And if I die today, I’m glad it’s while looking at the sun one last time with Freddie.”

—————————————

A few weeks later Military hospital, december 1915

Tommy strikes a match thanks to the abrasive part of the box. It’s gone out as quick as it ignited. The chilly squalls, along with the ambient humidity caused by the torrential storm, are surely to blame. He’s leaning against crates of God-Knows-What. The rain is dripping abundantly from the eave over his head. The smell of the rain is comforting and the deluge covers the sound of the shells crushing far away. An extinguished cigarette hanging out between his lips, he’s fascinated by the drops of water which are crushing against the soil, lost in his thoughts. So fascinated, that he didn’t even notice Freddie’s arrival. His gaze absorbed by the spectacle of the nature, he takes a second chance, by covering his matchstick more with his hands. The wind blows it out once again.

Freddie walks to Tommy to position himself in front of his friend with his back to the wind. He takes the match box from Tommy’s hands and lights one to the level of his cigarette. Tommy brings his hands around the flame too, brushing lightly Freddie’s fingers. Tommy takes some deep drags of his smouldering cigarette.

Freddie steps back to his side and also leans on the crate.

“The nurse tells you your lungs work well again and the first thing you do is smoke ?” Freddie asks bluntly, a small smile decorating the corner of his lips.

“Why are you here then ?”

“Who knows ?”

He looks up to the sky, while tapping lightly his pack on his other hand to slide a cigarette out.

“Sergeant Major Shelby now ?”, Freddie asks, turning his head towards Tommy, searching his eyes.

“Seems like it”, he replies as he takes a drag of his cigarette, without bothering to look to his friend.

“Finally, some good news !”

“Sounds more like a poisoned gift. You’ll all hate me before the end of this.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

Tommy puts his hands on the top of the crate to stabilise him, while he moves his legs in a more comfortable position.

“They’re sending us off to the Somme. The british troops from Gallipoli are also mobilised there. I guess they’re preparing something big.”

Freddie pauses for a few seconds.

“You don’t seem happy to see your brothers again.”

“Not really. I wished it’d be somewhere else.”

Tommy’s sentences are simple and short, but Freddie always thought they have the ability to crush your heart with their melancholia. For a few moments, they smoke their cigarette silently, just enjoying this taste they missed and the presence of the other.

“We can’t wear it often but the uniform suits you well. Yours looks even clean.”

“I don’t think that the same can be said about you.”

“You mean the cleanliness or my incredible charm in uniform ?” Freddie asks with a wide smile in his gaze.

“Choose what you’d prefer to hear.” Tommy glances at him on the corner of his eyes, smiling lightly and teasingly to his friend. A little muffled laugh escapes both of their mouth. But the pleasure is only of a short duration, their faces become serious again quickly after.

Freddie throws his stub on the ground and crushes it with his foot. He tilts his head in the direction of the door.

“Let’s go inside. The wind gets up. It’d be too stupid to go through all this shit and die knocked over by a flying branch.”

Tommy nods and crushes his cigarette on the ground too, before following Freddie inside.

Notes : Here is my first attempt at writing a fic! This piece was written for the @peakyblindersexchange and you can find all the amazing works of the collection here. It includes a lot of different pairings and kind of stories.

Thank you to the lovely @tinypinetrees to have helped me to make this fic written in proper English ❤

You can leave me a comment if you enjoyed this, I’ll be pleased to know it! If you liked it, I’m really willing to continue this story to get to their disagreements/arguments.

(For the people with a soft heart, the canaries were used to detect the presence of carbon monoxyde, an imperceptible lethal gas which terrified the miners during WW1. It was produced by the explosion of mines or the firing of a gun in a tunnel. Usually, the birds only fainted and were saved. If they had lived that a few times already, they were sent to retirement.)

[draw-you-coward]

ao3

Ikael thinks that they… do not quite know what to do with him.

He has not come in making any kind of fuss; in fact, drawing medical attention away from the people who actually need it is the last thing he wishes to do. But a miqo’te in full plate hunched into a corner, breathing raggedly with one hand splayed on the wall to support himself, is hard to ignore forever.

Ikael can feel the chirurgeons’ unease with his presence. It may be the dark crimson stains on black armour, or it may be the sharpness of his greatsword and the whispers of the Ishgardians. Either way, he does not blame them—he just wishes his breastplate will stop throttling him so he can get up and perhaps ask for some water.

At least they have not recognized him. They usually do not if he is not running around in furs and bracers, and besides; why would one search for a Warrior of Light amidst darkness?

Still, he… cannot seem to get up. He sat down, and now he feels so, so heavy. He is sweating and he is shivering and his gauntlets seem stuck to his palms, even if they weigh too much to move now that he has sat down.

He takes a deep breath and draws up his sword, planting it on the ground. He wants to try to get up, but suddenly the murmurs get louder, and the people around him start moving faster, their energies becoming more agitated.

Ikael shakes his head brusquely, blinking sweat out of his eyes. He cannot see. His hair is plastered to his forehead, and instead of sweeping over one eye, it is prickling into his vision and scraping over his skin. He hates how it feels, for a brief, strange moment—like dust and uncomfortable thinness and sticky heat. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore it to gather himself together.

“Ser knight, you have to leave.” It is a gentle voice that is speaking, thin and around his level. A lalafell, then. “You… said you are not injured, and you are making the patients uneasy. Please. They need their rest.”

Ikael forces his eyes open to meet their gaze. “I am sorry,” he says through the sand in his throat. “I did not mean to… do… that. ‘m sorry but I cannot… I cannot get up.”

The lalafell sucks in a distressed breath, and darts their gaze around the wing. Ikael takes the opportunity to close his eyes again, unwittingly losing himself for a minute.

“Ser,” the lalafell whispers, “Please. I… I am sorry that I can’t help you, but my priorities lie with the patients here. If you truly cannot get up, I will have to find someone to escort you.”

“Shtola?” Ikael questions immediately, even if he knows she is not here. It is the first association his mind makes—she is safe, and kind.

Whatever response he would have received to that he will never know, because suddenly his body obeys his mind and he is hoisting himself up. The lalafell goes silent.

Huh. Ikael is surprised he has the strength, but he will not question it. He needs… shelter, and food.

“Inn,” he grunts as a request, and the lalafell points, seemingly relieved to have finally gotten him out of the way.

Ikael manages to drag himself to the inn, and then even inside, although he feels as if his armour is moving him more than he himself is.

“You look like you could use our special,” the innkeeper tells Ikael while he tries to pay attention. “Come back for food, alright, hon?”

Ikael does not tell her that the wood on her counter is making his gauntlets hurt, and instead drops his coin on it and stumbles upstairs.

~*~

“Apparently,” drawls a familiar sardonic voice, “You were causing a ‘disturbance.’”

Thancred! Ikael thinks, but winces, because Thancred's voice is unnecessarily loud.

Shh, Ikael thinks at him.

“Ikael?” Thancred calls out, and Ikael winces once more. “Where are you? And what’s this pile of metal doing lying on the ground? Do try to clean up after yourself.”

“’m right here,” Ikael croaks, moving his tail so he does not have to move his head, and Thancred makes a surprised noise. The floor creaks, and then suddenly he is a lot closer, leaning down next to Ikael.

“Generally,” Thancred says, “One takes their armour off before throwing it on the floor.”

Ikael did not throw anything on the floor. He simply… stopped standing up.

“Can I have water?” he mumbles, trying to have his eyes be not closed. They flutter open halfway.

Then he is being moved, suddenly, and he grimaces as that shifts the sensation of hot-cold sweating through his skin. His hair moves, brushed aside by what he recognizes as another person’s hand skin—an uncomfortable sensation, especially in his current state—and now there is an entire hand being pressed to his forehead.

“No, no,” he mumbles, making a face and trying to draw away. The hand follows him.

Ikael does not like this. “No!” he says again, dredging up strength out of nowhere to force the hand away with his own. He does not like it!

“Apologies,” Thancred murmurs. “May I use the back of my hand?”

“Don’t touch me,” Ikael mumbles, upset. The feeling is fleeting, however, and he sinks back to the ground, exhausted from that sudden burst of energy.

“Alright.” Thancred's voice has taken on that soft quality to it that Ikael likes. “We need to take your plate mail off, first. You are overheated, to say the least, and I am certain it isn’t helping matters.”

Ikael is shifted around some more, and his armour gets tugged off. At some point he feels an odd touch on his skin and starts to cry, because it isn’t someone else’s skin but it is acting like a hand, and that is wrong. Thancred murmurs a confused apology, he thinks, but does not seem to know how to not do what Ikael does not wish him to do. Ikael does not even know. Ikael just wants to feel calmer and less dizzy.

Now his gambeson is still on, and he is not being moved anymore. It is still too hot—he tugs feebly at the ties.

Leather fingers gently move his own, and Ikael lets his hand drop, mumbling incoherently to himself. He tries to feel the floor, but it is too rough, so he settles for finding and petting his tail instead.

“Do you need something to—” Thancred's voice starts frowning as he cuts himself off. Ikael shimmies out of his gambeson and starts to get up, wobbling unsteadily on his feet.

“’m hungry,” he announces. “I’m going to… cook.”

“Are you,” says Thancred.

Ikael’s undershirt is sticking to his skin. He grabs at it until it comes off. “… Yes,” he replies after what he is sure is only a few seconds.

Thancred has somehow teleported to the other side of the room in those few seconds. He looks back at Ikael now, and raises an eyebrow.

“If you are going to strip, do it somewhere I cannot see,” he says. Ikael makes a rude gesture at him, tottering over to the kitchenette. He is going to cook. It is what he is good at. And if he is too hot, then he is sure he can make something… cold.

“You are going to burn yourself again,” Thancred mutters, suddenly moving towards Ikael very quickly. Ikael makes a noise of protest, folding up his arms, and lets himself be steered away. He cringes from the touch of the gloves, drawing up his shoulders, but they immediately move from his bare shoulders to his hips, which are still clothed. He relaxes a little.

“Ikael,” Thancred says in a very steady voice, “I need you to go take a shower for me, alright? I’ll have food for us when you get back.”

Ikael scoffs—that would require far too much walking, and he thinks it is an overall better idea to simply stop moving and collapse somewhere again. He opens his mouth to say as much, but ends up simply staring blankly for a few seconds, idly blinking. What was he going to say? He forgets.

“Besides, you reek,” Thancred says as Ikael gazes at his collar. “If you are going to be ill, at least be less disgusting about it.”

That takes a few long moments to process, and then Ikael slowly looks up at Thancred, hurt—and relaxes when he sees his smile. Ikael smiles back, ears wiggling, and coos at him.

“Alright; no hugs.” Thancred steps back before Ikael can do just that, and Ikael nearly falls down. Thancred gives a short, surprised laugh, apparently amused by something, and takes off his gloves before gently steering Ikael towards a sliding door.

“I believe that is the bathing room,” he says with a smile in his voice. “Do try not to knock yourself unconscious. Do you have a change of clothes in your pack?”

Ikael shrugs, already trying to open the door. He makes a victorious sound when he finally gets it, and slips through.

~*~

It is highly tempting, from Ikael’s position at the bottom of the tub, to simply stay seated there and keep staring up at spray of water above him. His head is pounding, and everything is just hazy and warm and melting all around him. But there is an annoying rapping sound coming from the door which will not cease, no matter how much Ikael internally orders it to. So that is how he eventually ends up stumbling up, pushing the glowing blue shard that deactivates the shower with a scowl.

He reaches for a towel and wraps it around his waist, then stands there shivering for a few moments. He is just about to sink to the ground again when the rapping gets louder and more irritating.

“Stop, yer givin’ me a headache,” Ikael groans, swinging into the door as he opens it. Thancred stands on the other side, holding something that smells nice and soft.

“Put these clothes on,” he instructs, handing the softness to a bewildered Ikael. “Take your time if you wish, but know that if you hurry, you will get food faster.”

Thancred walks away, and Ikael's nostrils flare at the smell of something warm and tasty. His stomach grumbles at him, a clear noise through the fog that it his mind, and Ikael reprimands it internally.

He eventually manages to get the clothes on more or less correctly, but he does not know what to do with the towel, so he simply clutches it to his chest as he exits. He scans for Thancred, and sees him sitting at the table, considering two steaming bowls of… something.

“Thancrrred,” Ikael mumbles, and takes a few brave steps forward to pause, think, and then drop his towel onto Thancred. “’m here.”

“So you are,” Thancred agrees, getting up. “Why don’t you take a seat? I will be with you in a moment.”

Ikael sits down and lays his head on the table, drawing his legs up until he is more or less comfortable. His eyes start to slide shut.

“Aaaand there we go with the near burning again.” Thancred's voice moves from far to very close in the time it takes for him to finish that sentence. Ikael feels his forearms being moved, and he mumbles a protest, frowning against the loud pulsing in his head. “No—I am sorry for moving you, Ikael, but that is a little too close to the base of the bowl than I am comfortable with. There we go. Good miqo’te.”

Ikael blinks at Thancred hazily, now forced to sit upright again. He is tired. He wants to sleep. He wants his head to stop hurting. He wants… he wants to stop being so hot, and aching, and… and…

“Oh, come now.” Thancred's voice is gentle again. “There is no need for that, is there? I have brought you food; you are hungry, are you not? You certainly sounded hungry just now. Don’t you want to eat?”

“Wanna—wanna—want… I want…” Ikael hiccups. It is getting difficult to breathe—between his throat closing up and the uncomfortable heat stifling him, he is beginning to feel suffocated. He wheezes out a breath, trying to lessen his discomfort.

Something very soft and kind dabs against his cheeks, and then his eyes. “Everything is going to be better soon,” says Thancred. “Eating is not difficult. Is it difficult? It will help you feel better, will it not?”

Thancred is being… so kind to him. Ikael needs to do his best for him—he will try to eat. He takes the spoon with a shaking hand, and sticks it in the bowl. Then, slowly, his mouth. Chicken and gil bun, some half-functional part of his mind supplies.

“There we go.” Thancred smiles. “I knew you could do it.”

Ikael’s vision starts to blur once more. He… has not been taken care of like this in a long time—not completely. He has not felt… he has not felt lo—

“Th-thank…” Ikael’s voice is trembling, “…you.”

“Oh, it is quite alright! You are really no bother to care for. Very compliant, honestly, if you understand what is going on. You are a peaceful sort.”

Ikael does not understand why he would not comply, but he nods, and tries to finish his food so Thancred will smile at him again. It seems to work; in fact, Thancred keeps smiling at him as they eat, and Ikael relaxes as a sort of soft pleasantness washes over him.

He gets up as soon as the urge to sink into his chair and doze off hits him. He has to shake himself to jar his mind back into something of use, but once that is done he pushes down on the table and manages to get up.

Thancred gets up as well. “What are you doing?” he asks, and Ikael’s resolve to wash the dishes starts crumbling at his gentle tone of voice.

“I-I-I’m going to wash up,” he mumbles, peering at Thancred cautiously.

“I can do that,” Thancred says, and keeps going before Ikael can protest. “I do not wish for you to over-exert or hurt yourself. I think that you should get some rest; you need it.”

Ikael’s brain stops working, and he nods dumbly, latching onto Thancred as he stumbles towards the bed. He really is… exhausted by now, and sleep sounds so heavenly…

“That is all I have to do to get you to listen, is it?” Thancred sounds like he is talking to himself; Ikael does not pay him much mind as he coos and cuddles into the mattress. “Have I been doing it wrong this entire time?”

“Thanrrred,” Ikael mumbles tiredly, smiling when Thancred subsequently kneels down to him, “I… want…”

“Yes?” Thancred prompts, rearranging some of the blankets around Ikael. Ikael is less hot, now, but he still feels covered. How… strange.

“Mmhuhh,” he says, and stretches out to loosely drape an arm over Thancred's neck and drag him down.

He falls asleep with Thancred breathing calmly into his shoulder, completely pacified by his closeness.

~*~

Thancred waits until he is sure Ikael is completely asleep before carefully extricating himself, wincing when his back cracks upon straightening up. Ugh.

He scrutinizes Ikael’s countenance as he considers what to do next. Ikael’s skin is still flushed with fever, and he is still radiating an uncomfortable heat. Thancred considers removing the last thin layer of blanket, but decides against it. Feverish Ikael may be, but it is still highly likely that something like that would prevent him from sleeping at all.

Ah well. Thancred sighs, and goes to fetch a washcloth that he can wet. He will have to wash Ikael’s armour as well—the bloodstains on it are doubtless what made that lalafell alert Thancred in the first place. Thancred is not an expert on caring for armour; hopefully Ikael will be coherent enough to instruct him on the morrow.

He does what he can for it after cleaning up and tending to Ikael—placing the chilled cloth on Ikael’s forehead and opening the windows. When the blackness of the plate is no longer tarred by crimson, Thancred gives up and decides to turn in. He sets a glass of water by the bed before rearranging the blankets he had taken from Ikael, laying them on the floor next to him.

“Goodnight, my friend,” he whispers, and leans over to give Ikael a kiss on the forehead before settling in for the night.

~*~

[therusticate]

I’m in the Hospital and I’m Grumpy About it.

TW: vomiting, hospitals, chronic illness, food mention, weight mention, and being a whiny little shit.

I haven’t made a personal post in a hot minute, and I don’t want to burden anyone with this information, but I feel crappy so I’m just going to get it off my chest. On mobile, will add a read more or delete later.

So this whole clusterfuck happened about 5 weeks ago. I had a bout of gastroenteritis featuring fun symptoms such as fever, vomiting, bowel problems, and decreased appetite. I couldn’t hold down solid food.

After a couple days of that, I went to the doctor and they told me it was just a virus and sent me home and gave me a note for work.

But a week later, while the fever and bowel-screaming had gone away, the vomiting hadn’t stopped. And then I couldn’t keep down any food OR liquid. I was dehydrated as FUCK. I called the doctor and they told me to just let it run its course.

Then, a few days later, I fainted because I couldn’t eat or drink anything without it coming back up. Ew. So I went into the doctor’s again and this time I saw someone different. This doctor was very empathetic and thourough with her care and I am grateful for that. She took some blood tests and referred me to a GI for further review. The blood tests showed a lot of inflammation, low platelet count, and decreased kidney function, so at least it wa sreflecting my symptoms. They set me up with nausea meds and told me to see the GI.

I had trouble getting the referral to go through because insurance took their sweet time with it and so I was all set up to go on August 1st. But I was still getting very dizzy, had very little energy, and vomiting everything I put in my mouth; food, water, jello, applesauce, pedialyte, you name it. I stopped making bowel movements, stopped urinating for over a week. And I had pain, a LOT of abdominal pain that I was trying very hard not to take anything for but I was having a hard time dealing with everything at once.

I had to resign at my job. They’ll rehire me when I better so that’s good, but I felt shitty about it all the same.

So on Wednesday, after almost collapsing again, I got a ride to the ER for fluids. I assumed that they were just going to give me a couple bags of saline and tell me to go to the GI for my appointment, but they ran a few tests and decided to admit me to the hospital. My potassium levels were critically low and they were worried about heart damage, my blood pressure was very low, and I was deficient in a lot of other nutrients and minerals as well.

So I’ve been here since then. They’re trying to replace the fluids as fast as they can as well as control the pain and nausea. But so far, nothing seems to be working very well. I’m on an all liquid diet and I can’t keep any of it down. I’ve lost 30 pounds in the past 5 weeks. I still haven’t made a bowel movement. I either sleep too much or not at all because of the constant vomiting. They’re going to give me an endoscopy tomorrow or the next day and I don’t know how long I’ll be here.

I feel useless, powerless, and altogether crappy. I just want a burger and fries from P. Terry’s but I can’t even hold down water. I want to go back to work. I’m sick of this. I’m so frustrated.

At least the doctors and nurses are all wonderful. They’ve been taking care of me and trying to make me comfortable. I’m grateful for that. My mom has spent the night a couple times, but she can’t be here all the time. My dad has come with her as well so at least I’m not by myself for all of it. My aunt is coming today I think so that will be nice as well.

I’m so tired. I’m trying to stay positive but it’s hard right now. We have no idea what’s happening and I’m so terrified.

Anyway I just wanted to get that off of my chest. It’s been a little lonely here because I haven’t seen any friends, but I should be grateful for my family. I don’t really have a lot of close friends anymore but even if I did, I can’t expect people to just reach out to me in times like this. It’s a gross situation and no one wants to hear about it. I shouldn’t be putting expectations on people to just drop what they’re doing and show up because that’s not fair to them. Putting expectations on people only leads to resentment and hurt feelings. Holding onto it is just going to cause everyone pain, so I think I’m just going to be grateful for the people that do want to see me and help me.

I have a counseling appointment set up for when I get out of the hospital so it will be good to process this with someone; my intrusive and depressed thoughts tend to show themselves at a time like this so it’s critical at this point to make sure I’m working through my issues with a professional instead of burdening others with it. I don’t like to share the dark stuff with friends much anymore- I was given the advice a couple years ago that people don’t really want to hear about it and don’t know what to do with it. So processing with a professional or just getting it on paper (you know that I mean) is probably the healthy way to go there.

Long story short, I’m grumpy bc I’m in the hospital and all I want is a cheeseburger and some really greasy French fries please and thanks. (Will also accept pizza.)

[wishingforatypewriter]

The Opposite of Casual

Summary: How far they had come from hooking up at other people’s weddings, and all without moving a single step. Follows On Casual Commitments and Business Casual. 

It had been late when Erina received the call. 

She and Souma had been sitting on the hardwood floor of the empty space that would become their San Francisco restaurant, taking swigs from a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels and arguing over paint swatches. 

Cool colors, elegance, royal purple, blue blood. No, warm colors, energy, crimson and gold. 

He had been leaving for Paris in the morning to see to his affairs, and kept trying to convince her come with him. He said he would miss her; that’s when she knew he had to be drunk. Because when had missing her ever stopped him from leaving at the drop of a hat? When they gotten so bad that they couldn’t spend a measly two weeks apart? 

She refused his offer because she had to stay in California if they were to keep to the schedule and open Canvas in seven weeks. She had been losing her resolve with each sip of whiskey that burned down her throat and each kiss he left at the base of her neck. 

A little before midnight, she had sighed and said, “Fine, but I’m only staying for a few days. You’re so lucky I’ve been craving Shino’s.” She’d picked up her phone to book a ticket just as it started ringing. 

“Alice?” he asked with a knowing smile. It was a well known fact that the Nakiri cousins rarely went a day without talking. 

“No, Chef Doujima,” she replied, perplexed. The head of the tourism department seldom called her at all, and always stuck to business hours (in her timezone, mind you) when he did. “I must’ve missed a deadline or something.” She shrugged, then answered. “Hello?” 

“Erina-san,” the man said with a weary sigh. “I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour.” 

“It’s no problem. I’m still awake. Is there something I should attend to?” 

“So it’s no problem when you take business calls after hours,” Souma teased. She rolled her eyes, shushed him. 

“It’s about your grandfather,” Doujima explained. “We were in the middle of a meeting when he collapsed. A heart attack.” 

“What?” The room had started spinning at that point, all the alcohol hitting her at once. Ever since she was a child her grandfather had been absurdly healthy, in better shape than most thirty-somethings when he was well into his eighties, running and hiking and swimming whenever his schedule allowed. Just two months ago, Alice had sent her a video of him doing one-handed push-ups with Kurokiba. “No, that can’t be right.” 

“We were quite surprised as well, but...” 

She could scarcely hear him anymore. She was sobbing, or hyperventilating, maybe both and it felt like the air in the room was growing ever thinner, like she was stranded at the summit of some far off cliff. She could feel Souma rubbing her back while he asked her the questions, the are-you-okays and what’s-wrongs. Erina knew she was probably scaring him because he never saw her cry before, she had seen to that, but she couldn’t bring herself to answer. 

 “I...is he...I mean, did he...” She prayed Doujima wouldn’t make her say it out loud. 

“Senzaemon-dono is still alive. We’re at the hospital, but they haven’t disclosed much information. They would prefer to speak with a blood relative. Your uncle Soe and his family are on their way from Denmark, but-” 

“I...I understand,” she said, grasping for some of her usual composure. “I’m on my way. Thank you for letting me know, Doujima-san.” 

After she hung up the phone Erina buried her face in Souma’s chest, letting the black cotton of his shirt absorb the last of her tears. She would give herself sixty seconds, no more, because she was still the demon lord of food’s granddaughter and heir. No matter what happened in the next few hours, she would have to be strong for Alice, for Auntie Leonora and Uncle Soe, for the Nakiri Group and the Tōtsuki network, students and alumni alike. She would leave her weakness on the worn out Restaurant Yukihira logo where it could do no harm. 

When her minute was up, she wiped her eyes and exhaled deeply. “I can’t come to Paris,” she finally said, her voice level. “Not this time.”  

It was time to go home.

They reached Tokyo after an eleven hour red-eye flight that Souma had more or less bribed their way onto. They flew coach, which made Erina miserable in addition to her being jet-lagged, mildly hungover, and terrified that her grandfather had died hours ago and she didn’t know because, in her words, humanity had advanced enough to put a man on the moon but still couldn’t find a way to give her cell service on a goddamn plane.   

“Do you want to get an Airbnb first?” Souma asked her once they cleared customs. He was holding both of their carry-ons while skimming through flats near the hospital on his phone. “You should probably lie down for a bit.” He had bought her some sleeping pills before they got on the plane, but she was never out for more than an hour and always woke with fresh tears on her face. 

“I’ll live,” she dismissed, her right eye starting to twitch as her iPhone, with newly restored cellular service, vibrated spasmodically in her hand. Her schedule, now sixteen hours behind, demanded a kind of attention that she simply did not have at the moment. She stared blankly at the events on her iCloud calendar—tastings, ingredient orders, interviews, a doctor’s appointment—things that had seemed so important less than a day ago. Then she deleted all of them. 

“And we should get some food in you.” 

Naturally Erina couldn’t defile her god tongue with the tasteless refuse that was airline food, and airline food in coach at that. She did feel weak, and more than a little bit dizzy. On a normal day his suggestions would have seemed rational, even preferable, but she was not in the mood for logic. 

“Later.” 

“Nakiri-”

“I am going to see my grandfather,” she snapped, and instantly regretted it. He had flipped his schedule upside down just to be there for her, and she’d been bratty and ungrateful the entire time. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just-”

“Don’t sweat it.” He kissed her forehead, stunning her enough to disrupt her train of thought; Yukihira Souma had never been one for public displays of affection, and neither had she. How far they had come from hooking up at their friends’ weddings. “I’ll get us a cab.” 

“Make it an Uber,” she said as they made their way to the terminal’s exit, and wondered if it sounded like I love you. 

In the backseat of the cab, Erina had attempted to pull herself together. She brushed her hair, wrapping it into a neat bun, and dabbed concealer under her eyes. So by the time they reached the hospital, she looked at least something like her usual self. 

The rest of the Nakiri clan had already assembled in the waiting room. Her uncle was flagging down a passing nurse, one who likely had nothing to do with her grandfather’s case, for questioning. Alice was sandwiched between her mother and her husband, sniffling, her eyes red and swollen. Auntie Leonora more than had her hands full between trying to make Alice eat some stale looking chips and telling Soe to stop harassing the hospital staff. 

The first person to notice their arrival was actually Chef Doujima, who had kept a respectful distance from the family. 

“Nakiri-san, Yukihira-kun,” he greeted. “Despite the circumstances, I’m pleased to see both of you well.” 

“Why so formal, senpai?” Souma asked, all good-natured charisma as usual. “You seen my pops lately?” 

“I ran into him in Spain a few months ago,” he replied. 

“That’s more than I can say,” Souma said, and Erina couldn’t help but crack a smile. Even his own son couldn’t top Jouichirou’s vanishing act. 

“How’s my grandfather?” Erina asked after a pause. “Have they said anything?” 

“Two hours ago one of the doctors came out to say his condition was improving, but they haven’t let anyone see him yet.” 

“That’s a relief,” she said, and was about to ask a follow up question when Alice fell upon them. 

“Erina,” she called, waving. “What are you doing?”

“What?” 

“You look like hell warmed over. Trying to hide those duffel bags under your eyes with drugstore concealer. Honestly.” She shook her head, knowing she’d taught her better. “I bet you came straight here from the airport.”

“You’re one to talk, Alice,” Erina replied. “You’ve probably been sitting right there since you got in from Denmark. How about you go find something to eat that didn’t come out of a vending machine?” 

“Me? I bet you didn’t even eat anything on the plane because you’re so spoiled.”

“I’m spoiled? You don’t even fly commercial.” 

“You’re such a hypocrite, Erina! How is only flying charter any different from only flying first class? Just go get some rest, already.”

“I’ll go when you do.” 

At this point, Souma turned to Ryo who had quietly followed his wife over. “Do they always have to do this?”

“Every single time,” the dark haired chef replied. 

“Yukihira,” Alice said, suddenly shifting her gaze his way. “You’re slacking. Hishoko would have had a hotel booked already. Go take her somewhere to lie down.” 

“Uh...I tried,” he said, scratching the back of his head.

“So you’re gonna take her side?” Erina asked. 

“What?” He glanced from Erina to Alice and back again. “How did I become part of this?”

“I told you not to get involved,” Ryo said. 

Just then, Nakiri Soe approached the group. “I was finally able to track down the right doctor.” 

“As expected of papa,” Alice said proudly. 

Soe adjusted his glasses, clearly moved by his daughter’s praise. “At any rate, we won’t be able to see father for another two or three hours. You two should take a break. I’ll call right away if anything changes.”

Alice glanced at her father for a long while and then sighed. “I’m honestly fine, but I suppose I’ll go for Erina’s sake.” 

“For my sake?” 

“Yes, for your sake.” 

The sounds of their argument continued all the way down the elevator shaft. 

“Who knew Mimasaka-kun had a restaurant around here,” Erina said as they went through the sleek chrome doors. 

“Everyone but you,” Alice replied. 

“Welcome to Silhouette,” the greeter said. “Would you prefer to be seated at the bar or a table.”

“Bar,” Erina said. “We may need to leave in a rush.”

“Understood.” The young girl led them to their seats with a pleasant smile. 

When the bartender asked for their drink orders, Erina only briefly hesitated before ordering a classic martini with two olives. “And you want a vodka cranberry, right?” she asked her cousin. 

“Just sparkling with lemon for me,” Alice replied with a sigh. Erina glanced at her, surprised. Alice almost never passed up her go-to drink. She blinked once, twice. 

“Alice...are you-” 

“Six weeks now,” she said with a sly nod, smirking around the rim of her glass. “Ryo thinks he’s getting a daughter, but it’s a boy. I can feel it.”  

“Congratulations!” Erina cried. “You...you’re going to be somebody’s mom.” It was a strange thought, really, considering how childish her cousin could be. 

“Thank you for stating the obvious, Erina,” Alice said as their appetizers arrived. “But yeah, I guess I am.” 

“Are you excited?” 

Alice shrugged. “Excited, a little terrified, wondering how all this is going to work with the restaurants and the research facilities. But Erina, I’ve been thinking lately.” 

“About?” She didn’t like the sound of her cousin’s voice, her playful lilt replaced with a more serious tone. 

“I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but I was talking to Hayama the other day.”

Oh yeah. Erina kept forgetting that they were friends. “And?”

“He asked me for Hishoko’s ring size,” she said. 

“He’s gonna propose?” Erina asked, her chest welling with happiness for Hisako, and for Alice, but there was a more unsavory feeling encroaching on her bliss. Not jealousy, never that, but perhaps a twinge of...panic.  

“He’s gonna ask her to elope,” Alice said. “And now that Dr. Arato is officially a thing, it won’t be long before they end up with a pink haired brat or two.” 

“That’s...” She sighed, the feeling of panic slowly intensifying. “That is true. In  fact, I’m surprised they don’t have a kid together already. But what’s your point?” 

“Do you want kids, Erina. Like in general?” 

Erina shrugged. “Sure.” 

“And if you were married, or in some kind of long term relationship, you might want them sooner rather than later, right?” 

“Where are you going with this, Alice?” Erina asked. She was too tired to play mind games. 

“Listen, I love Yukihira as much as the next person, and I’ve always rooted for you two to be together, but Megumi left him for a reason.” 

“Do I look like Tadokoro-san to you?” 

“It’s Aldini-san now,” Alice said with a pointed look. “All I’m saying is if you can’t have the life you want with him, maybe it’s time to start seeing someone else.” 

“Alice, I appreciate your concern, but I am not having this conversation with you-”

“Good. Have it with him, preferably before you wake up in ten years wondering how you’re still a friend with benefits,” she instructed, just as her phone started vibrating. “We should get back to the hospital.” 

Erina sighed and paid the bill before her cousin could protest. “Let’s get going.”

Erina had sat with her grandfather for a long while, hours after Alice and her side of the family had gone home. It had been agreed that after he left the hospital, he would spend a few months with them in Denmark while he recovered. Doujima Gin would take over as headmaster of the academy, and Megumi Tadokoro-Aldini, who had spent years as his second in command, would become head chef of the Tōtsuki tourism department. 

Erina had stayed at her grandfather’s side, writing the contracts, making the calls, keeping her back straight and her voice steady despite the fact that she had never seen him so weak. 

After the business had been settled, they talked a bit. He told Erina how much she reminded him of her mother, the daughter who had been taken from him too soon. He had rarely talked about it when Erina was a child. Too painful, she supposed. But mostly they just sat, each wholly content and comfortable in the other’s presence. 

“Erina,” he said to her as it neared midnight. Visiting hours had ended long ago, but the Nakiri family was hardly bound by normal protocol. “Is that boy still out there?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I told him already that he could leave.” 

She had told him to go to the Airbnb, back to California, off to Paris, let him know in no uncertain terms that she did not expect him to wait for her. But there he continued to sit in the waiting room, reading yesterday’s paper and chugging what had to be his tenth or twelfth cup of coffee. Idiot. 

“Send him in here,” the former headmaster said. “There’s something I’d like to say to him.” 

Only the gods knew what that meant. 

Author’s Notes: Thanks for reading! I’m thinking I’d like to wrap this story up in one or two more installments and then a short epilogue. The next chapter should resume right where this one leaves off.