#on the off chance anyone who hasn’t watched omitb wants to read this

[potterandpromises]

if brokenness is a work of art, surely this must be my masterpiece

I finished Only Murders In the Building last weekend and these two have taken over my brain. Predictably, I needed to write the missing space between when Theo sees Mabel on the subway and when she wakes up in his bed ASAP.

As it isn’t clear whare Theo’s new apartment is, I choose to set it in the Arconia, because there’s something heartbreaking about the idea of him walking into a building full of people he’s known (of) his whole life, none of whom he can turn to for help.

The title is from Neptune by Sleeping at Last.

Also on AO3

Theo catches up with Mabel a block from the subway entrance. She’s stopped fleeing, stands under a streetlight pole, gaze unfocused, a bloody object griped in her hand.

He gets ready to bear hug her in case she turns and steps into traffic at the sight of him.

“Are you hurt?” he signs slowly, carefully mouths the words.

She looks up, looks right through him.

He glances over his shoulder. A few people are staring, but at least nobody’s whipped out their smartphones. Yet.

“That blood on your sleave isn’t yours, is it?”

She doesn’t react, doesn’t even look down to see what he’s indicating. It wouldn’t make a difference if she knew ASL. Not tonight. Probably, her reaction would be the same if he spoke English or Icelandic. He’s not even sure she recognizes him through her fog. That might be for the best.

He slouches, makes himself a little smaller, takes another step towards her.

“Let me take you back to my apartment,” he signs, “so you can rest.”

In his peripheral, some guy pulls out his phone. Theo takes a chance. He puts one arm around Mabel’s shoulder.

She lets him.

With his free hand, he pries what he realizes is a blood-covered knitting needle from her fingers. She watches his hand, face imperceivable.

He shoves the knitting needle into a side pocket, keeps his arm around her shoulder, and gently but firmly turns her around.

One foot in front of the other, he tracks the looks from strangers, the sidewalk before them, and Mabel’s face. 15 minutes, he pulls her along and she doesn’t open her mouth once, as far as he catches.

He guides her through a side entrance of the Arconia. It’s five flights of stairs to his new apartment.

She begins to shiver. Theo sweats under his coat.

He unlocks the door, leads her to his bed and pulls the comforter onto her lap. Belatedly, he wonders if she’ll get the wrong idea, maybe punch him in the face. He can’t say he wouldn’t forgive her. Immediately.

Her shaking becomes less violent. She looks around the room, bewildered. He turns off the overhead light and switches on the lamp. Without warning, she starts to pull at her coat as if it were strangling her.

He steps in, ready to help her out of it, and takes in her baby blue sweater. He triple checks that the blood really does belong to her attacker.

She stops struggling and glares up at him. Her coat still clings behind her shoulders.

“Sorry.” He helps her out of it, drops it in a pile on the foot of his bed.

Theo walks the few feet to his couch, tries to feel less creepy. This would all probably be easier if he had a female friend to call. Or anyone.

“I will sleep on the couch tonight.” He gestures to it, makes himself very clear. “Try to rest now, you’ll feel better in the morning.” Hopefully, anyway. “Goodnight.”

Mabel stares at him dully. Her head tips forward slightly and, to his utter shock, she flops backward into his pillow.

His chest is tight. He doesn’t care to examine why. Mabel rolls onto her side, adjusts a hoop earing, and goes still.

He’s still. For what feels like hours but must only be a few minutes, he is frozen in place.

Hot. He’s hot.

He takes off his coat and empties the pockets, leaves the Coney Island badge on the coffee table and washes the knitting needle clean under the tap.

Groceries. He’d meant to get groceries. It’ll have to wait, of course. Sleep will have to wait, too. He’s too wired.

He sits on the couch and pulls out his phone to occupy himself. He means to google tips on how to deal with a person in shock, just in case he’s missed something important, but he opens Twitter instead.

#bloodymabel is trending again.