Chapter Text
Simon woke up, and immediately felt his entire body ache in pain.
It was not unusual. Since he started doing his chores, he was always in pain in some way. His stomach always filled with anxiety, his body recovering from the wounds and the blood loss, his head with a migraine from moving too much.
He opened his eyes slowly, getting them used to the light. Bright bright bright, and when he went to get up, he felt something holding his hand.
Not something.
Someone.
His Ryland, sleeping soundly while half sitting on a chair beside his bed, his upper body resting on the bed, his glasses perched upon his head.
Ryland was holding his hand, grip tight even in his sleep, soft snores filling the air around them.
It all came crashing back down on Simon, and the man sat down immediately.
How he tried to make dinner, but when he tried to wash the vegetables the water became red like blood.
How he could smell the iron in the air, and suddenly the walls were a lot smaller and made of metal.
How he couldn't breathe breathe and Ryland found him panicking and useless and what a coward he was, he couldn't even do something basic without working himself all up, how useless, he would be better off as soil for the vegetables, then he would finally have some use instead of just consum-
"Simon you have to breathe, love"
Soft hands holding his face, cold against the furnace that the Butcher always was. Cleaning the moisture from his eyes (tears, blood, the ocean). He didn't even realize he was holding his breath
"Breathe with me, in and out"
A face coming in view, his angel, why such a lovely and heavenly being was in hell with him? Why was his Saving Grace on the Iron Lung with the Butcher? It was a mistake, they put the wrong person there, Ryland didn't deserve th-
"Simon you have to breathe or you'll pass out!" Frantic words, worry.
He was a soldier, he could follow orders. He was a good soldier good soil for the Last Tree.
Simon sucked in a breath, and coughed. And he tried again. And again. And again. Until the black spots had faded from his view and he could see Ryland's face so so relieved. Tears streamed down his face, falling on the glasses that were now hanging from his ears, staining the lenses.
Was he back there? Was he here?
Simon took his trembling hand to Ryland's face, and wiped the tears there. His hand was hot, so hot, against Ryland who always ran colder. Like fire and water. "Are you okay? Why are you crying?" He asked, with a rough and shaking voice.
A surprised laugh.
"Am I okay? Love, I am worried about you, you are the one suffering. You don't have to worry about me now"
Love, love, love, how worthy was he of being loved?
"Let me in Si, I want to help you"
That was what finally broke Simon.
"You shouldn't need to help me. You shouldn't worry about me. All I am and all I will ever be is a burden. I can't even help you on the most basic stuff, and I am so tired " a hiccup " and I shouldn't be tired and I want to help I- I want to be something"
Breathe breathe breathe. Why can't Simon stop talking and just be a good boy?
"A-and I need to be something because I don't wanna go away, don't send me away please, I - I can be useful, I swear, you w-won't even notice me here I'll be good"
His body was folding on itself, he was choking on his tears blood .
And Grace was holding him close was keeping him here (was this an act of last mercy before sending him away?) and the man's hands on his hair, holding, keeping him from burning away, away, away.
< Hail Mary, full of Grace >
Ryland was sitting on the bed (when did he move?) and was holding every piece of Simon together, rocking him gently and humming a lullaby a song something.
Ryland was the home to someone who never belonged, he was the lighthouse that guided the ships to safety, he was covered in Grace and his wings burned bright.
Maybe it had been hours, maybe minutes, maybe days, when Simon finally managed to calm down, when he had no more tears to shed and his body no longer burned with anxiety. Only tiredness.
Ryland was still rocking him gently, never complaining. Oh Grace, his Grace.
His body had already given up on holding itself, being only upright by Ryland's holding.
His ear was on Ryland's chest, he could hear his heart beating beating beating like a lifeline, like an anchor, tethering him on reality.
"Si? Are you with me?" A whisper
Simon nodded, unable to speak.
"I want you to hear me, and I'll tell you as many times as needed. You are not a burden - " Simon opened his mouth to disagree. Ryland cupped his jaw with one hand, stroking his lips lightly with his thumb. "You are not a burden, you deserve to live, and you have a place here. You don't need to work for it, you don't need to do a thing, okay?"
Simon's eyes were wide, and he kept looking down.
"You don't need to earn your keep. I am not gonna send you away, I promise. You are safe."
Safe safe safe
"I want you to rest, okay?"
A kiss on his forehead. It burned, like fireworks on his skin
"I want you to heal"
He didn't think he had any more tears to cry, but he was wrong
"I'll tell you as many times as it takes to get through your thick skull"
Ryland was rocking him again.
"You gave me hope and joy. You went through so much and are still alive, still here. I - " a moment of hesitation, a heavy feeling. Too soon? Ryland thought " - I love you because you are you, not for what you have to offer"
A beat
"You...love me?" Simon's voice was scratchy. He looked up with both fear and hope on his body
Ryland was red, but he kept going.
"I love you, and I'll tell you as much as you need to hear"
It didn't fix everything right away.
Some days Simon woke up with an anxiety so strong he would throw up. Grace was always there to hold his hair, talking gently to him, always so kind.
Some days, Simon's body would fail him, and he was frustrated all over again. Why did he hurt so much?
Some days, Grace could see on the other man's eyes that he needed to be reassured again. That he had doubts.
Grace would hug him and repeat for as long as it would take for the other to believe in his worth again.
But on most of the days, he would wake up in peace, his body finally allowed to rest and heal. He would feel human in a way he had almost forgotten.
He was no longer a tool, or a soldier. A Butcher, or a Convict.
He was Simon
He was loved
And he belonged.