Written as a prompt from drabblebabies

Disney owns Sky High, not me. Speed and Lash are theirs. I love them, but can't claim them. le sigh

"I don't want to feel anything," you hiss, clutching at my shoulders, hands sliding up around my neck to cling there. "Not anymore. Make me not feel, Speed."

I cling to your too thin waist, feeling like I'll break you if I hug too hard, worried about you. You never used to be like this. You used to be the strong one, the one who came up with dumb things to say to everything, the one who really loved to pull the stupid pranks we used to do, back when we were at Sky High.

Now... now I think you might be broken. Just a little. You've practically stopped eating, and now I can count your ribs. That scares me, and if I could, I'd pack a little of my own ample weight onto your too thin bones. Half the time, I don't know if you're even there when I wave a hand in front of your eyes, they're so blank and dark and you don't move. I think sometimes we're both out of our minds in here, but you really are, sometimes. Completely out of body, too. Just not there. I have no idea where you go when you do that, but I hope it's somewhere nice, like the beach that one summer my parents let you come on our family vacation, mostly cause they didn't know we were 'together'. You buried me in the sand, and you loved it because you said then you could kiss me as much as you wanted and I couldn't even get away from you. I hope that's where you are. You were happy there.

You're not happy here, and who can blame you? Frankly, if you were happy here... I don't know. You'd be really sick, man, sicker than you are, and you're only sick now because of what these bastards do to you.

I mean, you hear the stories about prison, right? About showers and gangs.

I never realized they were true.

And you're such an easy target for them, so skinny and weak, they think. You can stretch, sure, and you can take them on that way, and I'm always rushing to get there if I sense even the slightest trouble, but I'm not always there, and I'm so sorry. I'm not always there, and you've stopped eating, which just makes you weaker, which makes you more of a target, which makes you so sick you can't eat. It's a vicious cycle, and I'm sick of it.

I'm desperate to get you out of here. I'm so scared for you, I need to get you out of here. I don't care how. You just can't live like this, not anymore.

But this is the hear and now, this is our dark little cell after lights out, and this is you crawling onto my lap and begging for sweet forgiveness, for sweet oblivion.

So I do all I can do now, which is to kiss away your demons and love away your nightmares.

I'm going to get you out of here.

Somehow.