Work Text:
The whole city reeked of what was officially deemed the ‘second coming’. A plague that destroyed a good portion of the population and was bound to destroy more.
Tired eyes peered through slit-like holes in the chunk of white plaster that sat on Steven’s face, invisible to everyone. Bandaged, tan hands reached up to light the incense stick that dangled from his mouth, it was vanilla and mint, one of his favorites.
Was he really supposed to smoke on the job?
No.
Did anyone really care if he did?
Maybe, but probably not.
The radio hummed with a familiar, cheerful voice, it sounded metallic at first, but after a while, you could pick up the imperfections from the human voice echoing underneath. It was a popular show among most of his colleagues and a good portion of the sick, trying to lighten up what was left of an unforgiving and cold world. Most of the show were story readings or older music, both usually upbeat in tone.
Coughing echoed through the halls of the hospital as he turned back to his work, rewiring the arm to the very bored looking halfling that sat in front of him. He signed out earlier that he got into a fight with one of the other patients. Poor kid, not even out of his teenage years lost his voice box to this disease and refused to have a metal one put in.
Andrew was lucky in that sense.
He was one of the only pure left, one of the only that is immune to the plague. Most babies are born missing limbs or organs, immediately needing surgery assuming they even made it that long. Most of society grew up with plastic and metal prosthetics, having to get them replaced year after year if they could afford it. Despite all this, they're still at risk of disease.
It’s ironic in a way.
The radio at his station clicked, signaling the end of the show. He finished rewiring the arm and with a small warning, reattached the nerves. It hurt him in a way, to watch the teen go threw the massive jolt of pain as the genetic wiring reattached with the artificial.
He slipped the lab coat onto the hook in the corner of his room as a nurse came in and took the younger back to his room. A minor breath of ‘good-bye’ to his colleagues as he clocked out, finally getting out of the hell that was deemed fit as a hospital.
Andrew slowly staggered to a small, unstable house, something that probably used to cost a lot more than it does, especially when it was in a better shape then it is now. He found it abandoned, owners dead in the living room, fixed it up a bit, and now calls it home.
Still, it wasn’t uncommon for some of the ceiling to collapse in or for bits of the floorboards to give way.
Slipping the bird-shaped plaster off his face, he felt petals drift away from the long-abandoned socket. Not even acknowledging the other entity in the room he pushed threw the bathroom door pausing in front of the mirror.
Gently unwrapping one bandaged hand, he brings it up the right side to rest underneath the Lotus, sudden cold of the touch making him flinch. His left eye flickering down to stare at the pink and white petal in the sink that drifted into the sink.
He carried a rare disease, causing some of his organs to rot away and flowers to take their place, more painful and deadly than the plague if it spreads far enough. He’s managed to halt it, at least for the time being.
Better than having being untreatable, he guessed.
“Does it hurt again?”
Metallic sound cracked through the air, as he heard the other resident shuffle into the doorway. Steven looked up into the cracked glass he referred to as his mirror, his eye met the slightly older cyborg at the door. The mixer that usually sat over the older’s head was already off, allowing Andrew to see the concerned look burning in bright amber-yellow eyes.
He waved the radio host off, “Don’t worry about me Echo, I’m perfectly a-okay”, though dark bags and shifty eye contact clearly contradicted the statement.
“How was the show today?” The younger continued, almost desperately trying to change the subject, “we had it on at work again, one of the halfers was complaining about the silence.” he continues as the sentence faded into a nervous laugh.
Silence clung to the smoke as the violet eye continued to find the petal in the sink much more interesting than his lover’s concerned look, “do you want me to make dinner tonight, I was thinking maybe spaghetti?” The younger persisted, trying to get a conversation out of the halfling that stood behind him.
Echo’s eyes never left him as violet flickered back up, meeting the golden, now dull with worry. The halfling shifted from one side to the other, almost nervously, scared whether touching the taller would help him or hurt him more.
There was no answer to the previous questions, none was needed. The tension was palpable in the air as the minty vanilla wafted around, carrying the feeling with it.
No one else knew.
No one else cared.
There was a sigh of defeat from the pure as liquid seeped into his eye, a small “ya” was mumbled out, “it hurts, a lot”
Shuffling echoes through the room and gentle arms rest around his stomach, before tightening into an actual hug, flooding the taller with warmth. Andrew felt a mixture of plastic and skin push up against the back of his neck, lips pressed against it in reassurance. Liquid now running down his face before he could really process what’s going on.
He didn’t know how much longer he had before the world got nuked or the disease took over, but, as he sunk quietly into the embrace of his other,
At the least, he knew he was alright.
For now.