Chapter Text
Grian sat curled onto the end of his couch staring down the plate of food in front of him. It wasn't that he didn't like the food, but more so the fact that he felt like he shouldn't eat. Everyone else in the room was eating quietly, but he occasionally caught Mumbo eyeing him, seemingly gauging his reaction to the soup.
He had prodded at the soup with his spoon, stirring and poking for a few minutes before setting it down and staring at it.
He knew he should eat, he was hungry. Except, he couldn't bring himself to. It felt like too much. Not portion-wise it was more so the mere existence of the food.
Food sounded difficult even though it was already in front of him.
And so, he stared. Unmoving and uncaring of how anyone else reacted, for once.
Time stretched on, and the soup stopped steaming. Gradually the others finished their bowls and left them in the sink before returning to chat.
Despite them talking about unrelated things, he could feel their eyes on him, silently judging him. Their laughs felt aimed as though they were laughing at him.
He felt sweat begin to bead on the back of his neck, as the sweat dripped down his back it felt like a mocking caress. His hands started shaking so badly he was sure they'd noticed. His vision started to blur and the walls felt like eyes had opened up just to watch him.
Laughs echoed through the room and figures shifted in the corners, just out of sight. He felt paralyzed. He was trembling like a leaf. Nausea started to swell and he started to double over in an attempt to keep from puking.
Tears welled in his eyes, before spilling over like a river to a broken dam. Sobs ripped from his chest and he started taking at his hair, desperate for an escape; he couldn't take this. They were going to hurt him. He couldn't even remember who “They” was anymore.
And suddenly, and without warning, calloused hands wrapped around his wrists, gently guiding his hands to be set on his lap. He looked with tear filled eyes to meet Doc's eyes. Never before had Grian witnessed such a soft look on the man's face. While keeping Grian's hands pinned, the man wiped his tears away.
“Match my breathing.” Grian took a deep breath and held as Doc did. It was honestly jarring how well it worked; his vision returned to normal and he relaxed from his tense position.
However, with the adrenaline rush gone, he collapsed. It felt like any energy he had had been sucked out of him.
His eyes slipped shut, and he let his head fall against Doc's chest. They sat like that for a while, the silence feeling comfortable, and not oppressive as he was used to it feeling. That was, until Doc broke it.
“Can you try to eat some food for me, Birdie? Whatever you want, even if it's not the soup.” Grian debated, trying to figure out if anything didn't sound like crap.
“The soup's fine, I guess.” He mumbled.
“Okay; Can one of you heat that up, please?” He presumed someone nodded since he heard the spoon hit the bowl.
Grian at some point started tapping faintly on his thigh, trying to figure out how high he could get by multiplying 1 by 2 and the number that produced by 2 and so on and so forth. He became so enraptured in the process he didn't hear when someone returned with the lemony chicken soup. It wasn't until Doc shifted his hold on Grian to have him sitting up and facing the table did he even realize a large amount of time had passed.
The bowl was handed to him tenderly along with a smile from Keralis. He smiled softly before grabbing the spoon and pretending like his hands weren't still shaking. He knew they could hear it the moment the spoon repeatedly smacked the side of the bowl softly.
He brought the spoon to his lips before taking a bite and chewing a bit before swallowing; it was good the lemon hit first with the peppery undertones of the chicken appearing after a few seconds, the rice was cooked to perfection. He liked it, but he knew it was just going through the motions, it wasn't truly eating the way functioning people ate.
Soon enough he zoned back in to find the bowl empty, and he carefully placed it on the table before standing up. He stretched, frowning at the numerous pops his body made.
He moved quietly to his room before carefully pulling off each garment and pulling on his pajamas. He avoided looking in the mirror as he walked to his bed, promptly flopping face-first onto the soft mattress.
The moment he landed he was out like a light.
The unconsciousness was total bliss to how his world felt like it was crashing and burning as walls he put in place crumbled.