#weeping into my hands. unable to see because my eyes were so puffy and blurred with salt water. silent screaming

[sentientsky]

hey guys check this out [cries so hard i throw up my entire intestinal tract]

[cx-shhhh]

Prompt time! (Of course only if you want to write it) I see from your blog that you are a les mis fan! Could you write something where Grantaire and Enjolras just met in college (modern au) and they are partners on an assignment and don’t particularly like each other that much but Enjolras ends up getting sick but insisting he’s fine and Grantaire kind of lowkey takes care of him without Enjolras fully realizing??

I’m not great at writing animosity between characters or squeezing so much into a simple 1k or less fic, but here it is!

The quiet atmosphere of the library is punctuated by a sharp sneeze, followed by a curse muffled by a sleeve. Grantaire looks up from his laptop to peer across the table at Enjolras’s rapidly reddening nose. He sighs and says for what seems like the millionth time in that hour alone, “You sure you’re okay?”

Enjolras glares at him over his own laptop. “Yes. Now let’s hurry up and finally finish this damn presentation. Lamarque will have our asses if we turn in something like what you usually submit.”

Grantaire flinches visibly and curls into himself. He frowns at his screen, wishing that he wasn’t in such a slump. It was as if all his artistic talent had fled in the divine presence of Enjolras. Grantaire’s self-deprecating train of thought is interrupted by another sneeze and its accompanying sniffles. Absolutely done with Enjolras’s stubbornness, Grantaire abruptly shuts his computer, not even bothering to log out properly. “Alright. Obviously, we aren’t going to get any more work done. Let’s call it a day, and try again tomorrow. Same time, same place, alright?”

Enjolras levels him with a hard stare, although the effect is slightly lost with his red nose and puffy eyes. “Fine. Don’t be late.”

Grantaire snorts, “Sure, sure. Take care of yourself before you sneeze your nose off.”

Not looking back, Grantaire leaves the library as quickly as possible. Once he got back to his dorm, he set about putting together the ingredients to make chicken noodle soup for Enjolras, “so he can get better in order to finish their project,” Grantaire tells himself. The dorm is shared with Joly and Bossuet, so a tiny kitchen was also provided for all their culinary endeavours. As if right on cue, Joly returns from whatever doctor-related class he took.

“Jolllly! Where do you keep your cold meds?” Grantaire half-shouts from where he’s standing at the stove. This, of course, sends Joly into a worried frenzy. “What? Are you sick? Oh no…”

“I’m not sick… yet. But Enjolras is, and with the amount of time we’re forced to spend together, my being sick is soon to arrive.”

Grantaire absentmindedly stirs the soup, a pleasant aroma drifting through the air. He thinks about Enjolras’s cute nose and the way his face will look adorably surprised when presented with hot food. Grantaire mentally berates himself for thinking such thoughts, what with Enjolras despising his very presence. The finished soup goes into the fridge to be heated up the next day, and Grantaire goes into his bathroom for a comfortable shower.

The thermos thunks on the table of the library, blatantly disregarding the “No Eating” sign on the door. As predicted, Enjolras looks adorably confused. Grantaire gruffly shoves it none too gently at Enjolras, telling him to give the thermos back when he’s done. Their little project meet-up is slightly more productive without the two of them making scathing remarks at each other every ten minutes. Two hours pass in a blur, forcing them to awkwardly say goodbye before heading out into the chilly evening air.

The next day, the thermos is exchanged for the cold medication, and Enjolras looks slightly less congested. At the end of that session, Grantaire receives a small smile which he returns in earnest. “Small victories,” he mutters to himself. He wraps his scarf tightly around his neck, burrowing into the soft wool and walks briskly back to his apartment.

“I’m home!” Grantaire yells into the darkness. Joly and Bossuet’s heads pop out from the living room. Grantaire flops gracelessly onto the couch and buries his head in his hands. “He smiled at me today. What should I do?”

Joly pats Grantaire’s curly hair a few times, saying, “You’re so cute, R. By ‘him’, I’m assuming Enjolras, right?”

“Who the fuck else?”

Joly rolls his eyes. “Maybe the other guy you were assigned to work on a politics presentation with.”

“Oh, screw you.”

“Already doing that!” Bossuet pipes up enthusiastically before stubbing his toe on the coffee table. Joly sighs in exasperation before herding him out to leave Grantaire to mope alone.

A week later, after many thermoses full of chicken noodle soup, the project is due, and Enjolras finally doesn’t sound like something evil has spawned in his nasal cavities. The two of them get a better grade than Grantaire had ever expected to see in a lifetime. Grantaire grins brightly at Enjolras, and nearly melts when he receives one in return. Before he can leave the lecture hall, Grantaire feels a solid weight on his shoulder. It’s Enjolras’s hand, and the person attached to it pulls Grantaire into a warm hug. “I take back everything I’d ever said about you and the quality of your work.”

Grantaire sort of stuffs his face into the soft fabric of Enjolras’s hoodie, sure that a moment like this will never happen ever again. Enjolras’s voice, a comforting vibration above him, says, “Oh, and the soup definitely helped tons. You’re going to have to teach me to make it for myself.”

Grantaire stiffens for a second, thinking that Enjolras means that he has no more need for Grantaire’s company. Enjolras is quick to catch on and amends his statement. “And maybe we should go out to get some coffee before you do that?”

And, oh, Grantaire feels like he’s going to weep tears of joy. He leans up and kisses Enjolras in the middle of the hallway, unable to suppress his feelings any longer. The kiss is slightly hot, due to the fact that Enjolras is not completely recovered, but Grantaire can’t find it in himself to care because if he ends up getting sick, Enjolras will know how to make soup for him by then.

[bigherosixfeels]

could you write a fic where hiro follows tadashi into the fire and they both survive the explosion but hiro ends up with the worse of the burns. give me big bro with all the angst and guilt please!

i shouldn’t be this excited over an angsty prompt like this, but here i am

All My Fault

Fandom: Big Hero 6

Rating: K+ (near death experience) 

Characters: Hiro Hamada and Tadashi Hamada

Word Count: 2,001

Summary: just…Angst™

Everyone has a moment in life that they wish they could take back. Whether it was something that was said or done, there comes a time where regret sets in. It’s hard to accept the fact that what happened was real and nothing can change the events that took place. Even if things can be resolved; forgiveness is received…the past still happened. Although you have been forgiven by those you may have hurt, the hardest part is forgiving yourself. The regret will still linger whenever you remember what went down despite the conflict being fixed. You’ll always wish it never happened in the first place so no one could have gotten hurt.

Tadashi Hamada never truly had a moment like that…until now.

There wasn’t much he could remember from the night before. Only bits and pieces stuck with him, but most of them weren’t good. Fire. Being surrounded by scorching hot flames. Hearing his brother call out his name. Seeing him trapped around the same glowing inferno. Darkness. A blurred glimpse of an unresponsive Hiro strapped to a gurney. Inside an ambulance; sirens roaring and muffled speaking from the paramedics. The amount of pain surging through his body, but nothing compared to the swelling in his heart at the thought of Hiro possibly being dead.

He awoke to a miracle; Hiro survived the incident.

Doctors and nurses understood his eagerness to be right by his little brother’s side, but they couldn’t allow him out of bed given his own injuries. Everyone around him gave reassurances of Hiro’s current state. Your brother is alive and resting right now. He’s going to be okay. Both of you are lucky.

Tadashi didn’t have the strength to yell. He wasn’t usually the type to raise his voice, but his patience wore thin in this situation. Yes, knowing Hiro was alive overwhelmed him with joy. Despite that wonderful news, hearing that he was okay and that they’d both be fine over and over drove him insane. What happened? How severe are Hiro’s injures? Will he make a full recovery?

Although keeping those questions inside, he felt as if some were answered once he got a good look at Hiro in his condition. A wave of gratitude washed over him once the realization of sharing a hospital room with him kicked in. Yet, the amount of happiness came crashing down, being quickly replaced with sadness, shame - and most of all - guilt.

Every bandage wrapped around his body. All the burns in every known degree under them. The immense, blistering pain that showed every time Hiro made a strained expression in his sleep. The blame pointed at Tadashi who knew he was at fault for this.

He ran into the burning expo hall. He rushed in in a risky attempt to save Professor Callaghan. His actions led to Hiro following behind. His foolish, idiotic actions. If he hadn’t run in, Hiro wouldn’t have either. Neither of them would be hospitalized. Neither of them would be hurt so badly.

He wondered how he could be so irrational with his decision making. Not only did he try to accomplish something that could have killed him, but Hiro got mixed up into it. He worried his brother enough to have him rush in the building behind him. The small memories he had tortured him at the thought. Hiro was right there. He called out his name and couldn’t protect him in time.

As for Callaghan…he heard nothing about him. He could be in this hospital too. Or the tragedy took its biggest toll on him. He could be dead for all Tadashi knew. Although the reason behind Tadashi’s motives were to rescue his professor, his well-being couldn’t have further from the elder Hamada’s mind. What mattered most was Hiro and getting him healed and back to his normal self.

It didn’t matter if Callaghan survived or not. Hiro was the biggest victim in this mess…and it was all Tadashi’s fault.

As Tadashi currently watched over Hiro, he couldn’t help, but let these intrusive thoughts of regret suffocate him. Hiro was suffering greatly. He was unresponsive for hours due to going into hypovolemic shock. Albeit both of them enduring a great amount of burns all over their bodies, Hiro had far more in the third degree. From head to toe, his body was covered in bandages. An IV hooked into his arm and a heart monitor that brought comfort with each beep. An oxygen headband to support his breathing. When he woke up, it was only to eat what he was able to stomach before falling back into a deep sleep.

Hiro shouldn’t be like this, he thought, a lump in his throat forming as tears glistened in his eyes. He shouldn’t have to suffer because of what I did. I did this. Hiro is hurt because of me. Why did I go inside when it wasn’t safe? Why did Hiro have to be hurt? All of his pain should be on me. Hot, angry tears fell slowly down his cheeks. This is my fault. Hitched breaths escaped through his uncontrollable sobs. This is all my fault.

He knew he shouldn’t be out of bed. He knew he shouldn’t have tried to walk on his own, but he felt the need to push through for Hiro’s sake. Cass recently went to the lunchroom for a quick bite. Hiro needed someone that he could trust by his side. Someone had to watch over him. Tadashi wasn’t going to let his burns get in the way of taking care of Hiro.

Their aunt was being their biggest support system as usual. Instead of scolding them both for what went down, she only offered a helping hand. She was truly a blessing, especially now. Nonetheless, her words of reassurance to Tadashi felt empty to him. Her abundance of love only brought on forced smiles. After spending her entire day in their shared hospital room, she deserved a break.

That left Tadashi - a crying, broken mess - at Hiro’s side. He contained his sobs as quietly as possible in order not to disturb his sibling. Yet, that eventually failed him as Hiro stirred awake.

Mentally cursing at himself, Tadashi tried to assure Hiro that everything was fine. “Go back to sleep,” he said in a quiet, yet pained tone.

Hiro knew that the voice he heard belonged to his older brother. It just felt so odd to him that his voice was close by. Opening his eyes, he saw Tadashi standing over him. Though his vision was blurred, he could make out Tadashi’s concerned, helpless expression. The tint of his eyes were a harsh shade of red with dark, puffy circles underneath them. Hiro knew he’d been recently crying, but what sparked more curiosity to the young teen was the fact that Tadashi was standing.

“Y-you’re…out of b-bed,” Hiro stated, trying not to sound as weak as he felt.

It took everything in Tadashi to hold himself together. Hearing Hiro speak was a bittersweet sound. It was one of those small things that proved him to be alive. He was conscious and vocal which is a big step from where he was almost twenty-four hours ago. However, Tadashi could tell how bad Hiro was truly doing when he spoke. He sounded drained, worn out and incredibly exhausted. It didn’t matter how much Hiro slept or what little progress he made with each passing hour. He wasn’t anything like his normal self.

Tadashi forced out a dry chuckle. “Yeah, I am.” He took in a deep breath, unable to hold back a shudder. “I’m here for you, buddy,” he whispered, tightening his grip on the rails of Hiro’s bed. He was determined to keep his physical pain unnoticed. He should have stayed in his own bed, but Hiro was more important. Hiro needs me, he told himself with every acute wave of pain that struck him. He continously reminded himself that Hiro’s pain was far worse than what he was going through. “Is there anything you need?”

As Hiro immediately shook his head, a sharp, agonizing feeling overcame the back of his neck. He tried to hold back a yelp, but to no avail. It gladly came out not as loud as he expected, but still with enough power to bring on concern. Panic pumped through the elder Hamada’s veins. He almost asked him if he was okay, but held back, knowing that was a pointless question. Of course Hiro wasn’t okay. He was terribly injured, could hardly do anything for himself and was in absolute misery. This wasn’t okay. This wasn’t ideal. This was a horrifying nightmare Tadashi begged to wake up from. How could something so unfortunate be their reality?

He was no longer strong enough to keep himself up. Keeping hold of the rails, Tadashi allowed his knees to buckle; the physical injuries and emotional heartache both being too much. He looked up as his younger brother watched him with worry. The tears he somewhat managed to hold back since Hiro woke up were forming yet again.

Letting go of the rails, Tadashi rested his arms on the side of Hiro’s bed, only to bury his head inside them. His cries started out as whimpers that dramatically transitioned into powerful wails. Sobs never ceased to stop; only to cut off by a hiccup here and there. “I-I’m sorry,” he mumbled, proceeding to weep again. The more he tried to stop himself from crying, the worse he would get. “I’m s-so so-sorry!”

Hiro understood Tadashi’s apologetic ways. He knew his brother well enough to know that endless apologies would be said for days. He just didn’t expect it to be quite like this. Sadly, there wasn’t much he could say to make him feel better. He knew that Tadashi would always blame himself for this. “N-not…your fault,” he managed.

Why would he say that? Of course this is my fault! I’m the reason for all of this! Tadashi shook his head in disagreement. “N-no,” he shuddered; his crying slightly calming. “You never would have went in if I ha-hadn’t.” The same memory of seeing his little brother being practically swallowed by fire replayed over and over in his thoughts. The side of Hiro’s bed was soaked damp with tears and mucus.

The younger Hamada couldn’t take this anymore. There had to be something he could say to make this troubling situation better. “Dude, you can…can only be blamed for your own actions,” he began. He tried to find the right words as Tadashi made eye contact. “You ran into the fire by choice…and so did I. I’m at fault too.”

Although Tadashi shook his head again, he processed what he was told. Even if he still disagreed and believed to take full responsibility for the night before, Hiro had a point. Why did he have to be so smart sometimes?

“I promise I’m gonna make this up to you.” Tadashi took his time standing back up, grunting as the pain washing over him got worse. “I’m gonna help you through your recovery, okay?”

Hiro rolled his eyes. Not only was this a body movement that he could do without causing his body any pain, but it was a signature thing he’d do often. He could only hope that Tadashi saw that as another sign of him being well. “We’ll…we’ll help each other.”

With that, Hiro’s tiredness took over and he drifted back off in seconds. Once his breathing evened out, Tadashi gently grabbed for Hiro’s blanket, pulling it upwards until it was able to cover the young boy’s shoulders. A content smile in return was all Tadashi needed to see to know things were going in the right direction.

Yet, with him having no one to talk to now, all his thoughts were able to attack him without any interruptions. As he recalled the events he could remember from the result of the incident, a final tear stained his cheek.

I’m sorry.

AAAAA EVERYONE I’M SO PROUD OF THIS FIC???? I love getting angst prompts and I did not want to hold back for this one. Honestly this ended up being more angsty than I expected so that’s great! Just…UGH i love how it turned out and I’m so happy to be sharing it with all of you!!!! Thank you so much anon for the request! I hope all of you enjoyed reading this (even though it was super sad oops!!)