Author: Salvi PM
Another night, another apocalypse. Will he get there in time? Rated fur cursingRated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 1,866 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 3 - Published: 05-22-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8142572
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hey guys! I'm back!
Once again for the ever wonderful and kind DeeJuusan and her soul-mending characters.
It was Tuesday. A little after two in the morning. Just another catastrophe.
The first thing he got aware of was the deafening high-pitched buzz in his ears. Then, just through it, he could make out the faint, distant sound of a laboured and gasping breathing. After a few, disoriented minutes, he slowly opened his eyes, cringing in the bright light above his head. Once the halo resided and his eyes adjusted, he tried to make out where he was.
' Ugly-ass ceiling lamp. So I'm in the living room… Obviously laying down on the ground.'
Okay, now that he got his position confirmed, next step was determining his general state. There was the very hoarse and cracked voice, but that was not something he was unused to. Then the gasping breathing, which he realised, was his own. With a loud groaning, he tried to move his limbs, area by area, starting by his feet.
" Okay.. Feet. Good. Ankles. Hgn.. Left ankle probably sprained. Moving on. Legs, okay."
He wiggled his hips slightly.
" Hips, okay, though my butt hurts as fuck. Ribcage.. Ah!"
He kept going, pushing aside the peaks of pain everytime he moved something wounded. Once he was done, the list had a sprained ankle, sore butt, 2 or 3 bruised ribs, three broken fingers, a possible concussion and a dozen of more or less deep gashes on his face and arms. He laughed faintly before the sounded gurgled in his throat and morphed into a cough that made him curl on himself painfully. His vision began to swim and his eyes laid on the puddle of blood extending under his body. Guess some of these gashes were deeper than he thought.
He knew he only had a few minutes before losing consciousness again, and at the rate his blood was seeping out of his wounds, he'd be in a lot of shit in a few hours. And this amount of pain would surely knock him out a while. Taking a few wheezing breaths to brace himself, he then proceeded to roll on his abdomen before rising shakily onto all fours. A wave of nausea took him suddenly, and he groaned, clenching his fists, until it passed.
Once he got his eyes opened again, he proceeded to crawl across the floor, slowly.
"I.. just got to.. reach my desk.. Stay focused!"
Just a few feet away, his goal sat on the desk, so close and yet so impossibly far. He gave a last push, screaming at the intense wave of pain and through the tears, saw his bloody fingers grabbing at the plastic frame. With the object secured in his hand, he let himself fall back down on the ground. And as the darkness swallowed him, felt his thumb press the number 2 and then … Nothing.
It was Tuesday. A quarter past two in the morning. Just another sleepless night.
He hadn't been asleep very long when his cellphone rang. The shrill sound, deafening in the silent night, made his migraine raise it's ugly head again. With a pained groan, he blindly reached the nightstand, grabbed his annoying device and stuck it to his ear before growling in a groggy, exasperated voice.
" Come on, Black. This isn't funny. Let me have ONE night of sleep, for the lo…"
His sentence cut abruptly when he heard an irregular wheezing noise on the other side of the line. A weight slowly grew within him, and dread made the hair on his nape stand up. Something wasn't right.
" Black?" he asked carefully.
After a few long seconds, the other man gasped and half-moaned, half-muttered.
" W.. hite…"
Sitting straight up, White instantly shook the sleep from his brains. Before he could register anything, he was already half dressed and grabbing the keys on the small table by the door of his apartment, his cellphone still glued to his ear.
" Black, can you hear me? Black? Stay on the phone, okay? I'm coming. Just try to stay awake. I'll be there soon."
Rushing to his car, White started the engine and sped off to Black's apartment complex, just ten minutes away. All the while, he kept on talking to Black, but except from gasps and pained moans, the smaller man remained mostly unresponsive to his questions. Then, just when he was stepping out of his vehicle, there was some shuffling on the other side of the line, and all he could hear was a monotone beeping as the call suddenly dropped. White looked at the screen, heartbeat speeding.
He started running, rushing up the stairs like the devil was chasing him, and as he stopped before the apartment door, a bead of sweat roll down his temple. Wishing upon every star he knew, he fumbled to get the key in the lock and finally opened the door.
His ears automatically picked up the sound of the shower running, so he rushed there. The mirror was shattered and pieces of it were scattered on the floor. The curtain rod had been ripped from the wall on one side, and the curtain itself half-laid in the bath. The water, still on, was ice cold. But no sign of Black. White closed the faucets before getting back to the living room area.
Everything was trashed. White looked around, trying to take all the carnage in, when his eyes lowered to the ground. Amongst the broken glass littering the floor was a puddle of blood. A large one. White felt his heart tighten.
" Oh Black, what have you done now… ?" he whispered faintly.
Following the bloody handprints smears on the tiles, the tall man arrived to Black's bedroom, and before he could brace himself, he saw himself turn the corner to peek in the room. At first, he saw nothing strange, until a low whine made him run to the other side of the bed.
There. On the ground, only clad in a towel and curled around a cellphone displaying 'Low Battery – Please connect to charger', was Black. Black and a lot of wounds, bruises and blood.
Kneeing down beside him, White raised two panicked fingers to the wounded man's throat. A slow, but steady pulse made him release a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, and sat back slightly. His eyes starting scanning the other's body, He gently rubbed Black's shoulder and took out his cellphone.
" Yes, hello. I need an ambulance fast, my friend is badly hurt…"
The first thing he got aware of was the rhythmic beeping he was hearing. Then, just through it, he could make out the faint, distant sound of a deep and steady breathing. After a few groggy minutes, he slowly opened his light grey eyes in the dim lights and tried to make out where he was.
'Ugly-as-fuck ceiling. Must be in the hospital…'
Looking around some more, new feelings were registering in his brains. The tube stuffed in his nostrils, for exemple, was slightly uncomfortable. And there was this weird tingling in his right arm…
His gaze lowered to his arm, and was met by a dishevelled mass of black hair. Black smirked. White had such a calm and worriless face when he slept. No migraines, no thinking, nothing. He apparently had moved the visitor's chair as close to the bed as possible, and then fell asleep with his head on Black's arm. The stubble on his face told Black he's been in this hospital bed a couple days, and the dark circles under his eyes told him he hadn't slept much in those two days. He tried to move his arm slowly to regain some blood flow in his paling fingers, but the shuffle made White groan and frown with awakening. Dark eyes opened with difficulty and rose to the other's face.
" Hey." Said Black, sheepishly.
A soft smile appeared on the taller's face, growing slowly.
"Hey. How are you feeling?"
" I've been worst. But you should see yourself, pff. I hope we don't see anyone we know on the way home, coz you look like shit."
White scuffed, and then his face became very serious.
" Wanna tell me what happened?"
Black frowned and turned his head away.
"Not really, but I'll tell you anyway. I always do, don't I?"
The brunette stayed silent, waiting patiently for his friend to collect himself and start explaining the events of that night. After several minutes, Black took a deep breath.
"I went to Starbucks, on the 7th. I was walking back home from a meeting with Irina when I… I s-saw…"
"What did you see, Black?"
" It was Him. I fucking SWEAR to you it was Him, White. H-He was right there!"
White didn't say anything.
" I freaked out and got the fuck home as fast as I could, and got in the shower to calm myself coz I felt so wrong and shitty and I had to clean myself, so I rubbed and rubbed and rubbed, but it didn't go away! WHITE, IT DIDN'T FUCKIN' GO AWAY! Then I went Red-Black and I don't remember much after that."
" You trashed your apartment. You threw and broke pretty much everything made of glass on the walls. Your bathroom's a mess, and you've been here in a coma for almost three days."
" The bathroom needed a makeover anyways."
" You'll be in a wheelchair for a few weeks."
" I'll just stay in bed. I don't really feel like moving right now."
" You'll need physical re-education for your hand."
" I'll switch hands. Maybe I can become ambidextrous?"
" So next time, I'll be all set to breaks more fingers in either hands."
" Can people become ambifeetrious?"
" That'd be awesome."
After a few seconds of silence, White sighed.
" Do you realise that He cannot be here? That He's hundreds of miles away from us? He cannot hurt you anymore."
At first, Black didn't say anything. His eyes shimmered a bit and he drew a shaky breath.
" I just…"
White put a gentle hand on his shoulder.
" I know."
The hand moved to the back of his neck, and he used the leverage to pull Black's forehead against his. They both closed their eyes, basking a few moments in the Grey bubble surrounding them.
When they parted, Black asked softly.
" Can we sleep some more? I'm beat."
White scuffed again.
" Sure, Black."
The smaller man scooted on the other side of the simple bed and rolled on his side, facing the wall. White gratefully climbed between the hospital sheets and set his back against Black's. And just before Black slipped into a dreamless sleep, he heard the other's voice whispered in the silent room.
" Sleep tight. I got your back."
It was Thursday. Four past ten thirty at night. Just another apocalypse.