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Lightning flashed followed by a loud crack of thunder, making the entire house grow dark. Trish froze on her bed. She had already been dreading the storm, but with the addition of a power outage, she was paralyzed. Without her knowledge, Spice Girl appeared, hovering over her bed with her fists clenched, ready for a fight.
But there was no real danger.
Trish knew that. She knew nothing would happen, but the oppressive darkness made the walls of her room feel like they were closing in. She couldn’t breathe. Clapping her hands over her ears, she shut her eyes tight, mumbling to herself over and over again that she was okay. Above her, Spice Girl grew more agitated; her Stand’s muscles tensing and flexing as she floated, jaw set and eyes glaring.
Someone knocked on the door.
Spice Girl disappeared, and Trish opened her eyes, holding her breath. Her head spun, but she was able to croak out a, “Come in.”
The door opened and Fugo poked his head in. “The power went out.”
Trish nodded, still not fully in control of herself.
“Are you okay?”
She shook her head, curling even more in on herself.
Without missing a beat, Fugo crawled onto her bed and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap.
Trish buried her face into the crook of his neck, desperately gripping the fabric of his shirt and pulling him as close as humanly possible. She knew how tightly she clung to him must have been uncomfortable, but in this moment, he was the only thing tethering her to reality. His arms were the only protection she had, the only shield from the darkness, and as she pressed herself against him more, she wished he could fully envelop her, covering every inch of her in safety.
“You’re okay,” Fugo said, soothingly rubbing her back as she shook in his embrace.
She whimpered, the only response she was able to make in her current state, but the tremors subsided for a moment as he spoke, reminding her he was there.
“Do you want to stay in here or go somewhere else?”
Trish glanced at the room with one eye, the walls still giving the illusion that they were constricting her. “Somewhere else,” she gasped.
As gently but as quickly as he could, Fugo moved out from under her and guided her off the bed and out her door. They made their way to the kitchen, Trish clinging to him as he kept one arm around her. He led her to a chair before lighting a few candles so they wouldn’t be sitting in the dark. Pulling up a chair next to her, Fugo took her hands in his own. “Do you need anything? Tea? Water?”
Her lower lip trembled. Now that there was some light and she was in a more open space, the hot shame of her reaction to everything began to set in.
Without waiting for a response, Fugo got up and poured a glass of water, setting it on the table in front of her. “Here, drink some, it’ll help.”
She nodded, listlessly taking a sip, partially out of exhaustion and partly because she didn’t know how else to respond. “Thanks,” she muttered.
“Yeah, no problem. It’s something Bucciarati taught me shortly after I joined.” He looked to her, a deep concern in his eyes. “How are you feeling?”
Trish stared at the way one of the candle flames flickered. “Stupid,” she finally settled on.
“Hey, no, don’t say that.” He scooted even closer to her, brushing her leg with his own and placing an arm on the back of her chair. “These kinds of things happen.”
“No, they don’t,” she replied, a hint of anger in her voice. “This kind of thing shouldn’t keep happening. I’m sick of it.”
Fugo looked to the ground, mouth drawing into a thin line. “It gets better,” he whispered. “It gets easier to handle.”
Trish looked at him. “Thanks. I just wish I didn’t have to handle it at all.” A clap of thunder made her tense up once again, and he put a supportive hand on her shoulder.
“I wish it was the kind of thing I could bear for you.” As Fugo searched her eyes, he took his other hand and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.
As she always did, Trish melted into his touch, shifting herself so that she could lay her head on his shoulder. “You have enough to deal with already. You don’t need my problems on top of them.”
Fugo gently kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek against her head after he did so. “Well, when you lo—” He paused, clearing his throat. “When you care about someone, you’re willing to do that sort of thing.”
Trish smiled, reading between his words. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him closer to her. “I care about you too.”
They sat like that for a while, Trish gradually finishing off the glass of water. Eventually, Fugo spoke up, “It’s really late. Do you think you’ll be able to sleep?”
She shook her head. “Not in my room, at least. It’ll still feel too…” Trish shook her head again, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “I’ll try the couch.”
“The couch isn’t very comfortable,” Fugo said with a frown. “At least take my bed.”
Trish knew she should say no. It wouldn’t be fair to make him sleep on the couch when she was the one having trouble sleeping, but before she could refuse, Fugo was already blowing the candles out and leading her down the hall.
“It’s a little messy,” he mumbled, opening the door.
It was too dark for her to tell what state the room was in. For all Trish knew, it could have been spotless. It didn’t make a difference though. As carefully as they could, the two of them made their way through the dark, using the wall and dresser for guidance.
“Here,” Fugo offered, pulling the covers back for her. “I’ll see you in the morning, have a good night.”
As soon as she was settled into the bed, she could hear him begin shuffling his way back to the door. Another flash of lightning lit up the room, followed by a harsh clap of thunder. Trish shot out her hand, managing to grab onto Fugo’s sleeve. “Please stay,” she whimpered.
For a moment, Fugo froze, and Trish was afraid he was going to insist on sleeping on the couch. She knew if he left, alone in the dark, the walls would start to feel like they were closing in on her once more, and she didn’t want to be back at square one again. But instead of leaving, he tentatively came back to the bed and lay down.
He stayed on the edge of the bed, but as more thunder shook the room, she pulled him close, tucking her head under his chin. Slowly, he placed his arms around her, and she felt secure. “Thank you,” she whispered, a wave of tiredness washing over her.
Fugo made a noise of acknowledgment in response. For several minutes, the two lay there in silence, listening to the storm as they drifted off to sleep. “Trish?” Fugo whispered after another particularly loud boom of thunder.
Trish, while still awake, was so close to sleep that she couldn’t bring herself to respond.
She felt him shift closer, resting his cheek gently on the top of her head. “I love you.”
Had the exhaustion not been so overwhelming, Trish would have said it back. But for now, she made a mental note to say it to him in the morning, and allowed herself to fall asleep, safe in the comfort of his arms.