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Fire was Nine’s main trigger.
Even with the harsh memories and lingering mental scars of the experiments, the experience that had gotten to him most was the day of their escape. The day they thought five had died. Watching as she fell, as the flames enveloped her while Nine clung to the fence with Twelve, he was torn between the decision to go back and die with her, or escape and live for her.
In the end survival had, of course, won out, but it still haunted him. He still saw her violet eyes and snowy locks caught in the blaze that should have killed her. In both nightmares and daytime flashbacks, this was often what he saw the when his ears began to ring and the past and present became indistinguishable. The other traumas that would leave him a shaking and crying mess would soon follow if Twelve wasn’t around to snap him out of it.
It was the main reason that, with the exception of Twelve, he didn’t allow anyone to get close. Twelve may be the one that got attached quickly, but Nine had a harder time of letting go.
But Nine wasn’t the only one who had flashbacks.
It was true, that out of the two of them, Twelve was the brighter one. Twelve was the one who could smile and laugh with abandon at any given moment and radiated warmth like the sun. To outsiders, it would seem like Nine was the angsty problem-child with a foul disposition and Twelve was the kind hearted, easy-going kid that lacked any cares or worries.
Nine wasn’t an outsider though.
He and Twelve had grown up together in that hellish institution. Those torturously long years of experimentation coupled with the lack of warmth and love of a family would leave any child scarred and Twelve was no exception. Despite popular belief, the brunet was not as light hearted as most believed him to be. It was just a mask, a defense against both the past memories and present cruelties of the world, much like Nine’s own cool mask of indifference. Though, Twelve could see through Nine’s mask a bit more easily than he could see through Twelve’s.
Nine, loathe as he was to admit it, didn’t always know what triggered the flashbacks for Twelve. With all the time they spent together, Twelve, believe it or not, was the more reluctant of the two to admit when he was upset or bothered, opting instead to laugh it off and keep it to himself. So the first few times his friend had gone through a seemingly abrupt emotional breakdown, Nine was at a loss as to what had caused it or, more importantly, how to help. Nine was normally the one coming to pieces, even when something other than fire triggered a flashback and Twelve just had a natural sense of how to make things better despite how equally starved of affection he was. It had been unnerving and admittedly painful for Nine when Twelve had first lost it completely, just a few months after their escape.
To this day, Nine still wasn’t sure if he had actually had been of any help to his best friend that day, despite the other’s reassurances. After that though, he began paying much more attention to make sure he didn’t miss even the most minute of indications something was wrong. It terrified him to think that Twelve might’ve had more of those episodes when he wasn’t around just because Nine had been too caught up in his own troubles to notice. With the amount of attention he had put into his observations, he had come to be able to read Twelve like a book and spot when something was off. Like if his smile wasn’t as bright as usual, if he dragged his feet (as much as Twelve could drag his feet considering how he practically bounced with every step), or suddenly stiffened even the slightest bit despite the lack of immediate danger to their well beings. With each documented tick, there came a mental note of causes for each one and things he could do to actively keep Twelve away from those potentially emotionally destabilizing situations. Twelve did it for him constantly so of course he would return the favor.
The biggest problem though were those god damned colors.
Twelve’s synaesthesia was also a contributor to some of the trauma. While (according to Twelve) people’s voices could have similar colors, it was very rare that any two voices or sounds would make the exact same color as one another, often having various shades or hues to them. So it was like he was processing the individual frequencies of every single person and thing that produced a sound via color. Coupled Twelve’s impressive memory, there was no way he would mistake the shade of red one person’s voice had with the shade of red another person’s voice had. It was a rare occasion that two sounds matched up perfectly.
Just because it was rare though, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.
Anytime someone’s voice happened to match exactly with the color of a scientist from the Settlement, or a machine happened to make the exact same sound (and therefore color) of a device used on them during tests, the telltale signs of discomfort (or on particularly bad days, a full blown panic attack) that Nine had trained himself to spot would show. Nine would stop whatever it was he was doing (provided it wouldn’t explode if he stopped at that particular moment) or even abruptly change direction if they were walking until the offending sound could no longer be heard or seen, and he could help Twelve calm down before things escalated.
There were times however their system of protecting each other couldn’t always be utilized. Especially when they began planning and had to set up the necessary equipment. It only made sense that splitting up would get more done than if they stuck together on the chance that something might spook them. Besides, by this then, enough time had passed that the scars had faded a bit and the memories of the traumatizing events weren’t so debilitating. Yes, Nine’s flashbacks were still too frequent for his liking, but he could at least keep himself together or re anchor himself on his own most times.
Nine’s flashbacks occurred more often, but were now becoming more manageable and easily shaken off as the sensations and memories grew more and more hazy. Fire was really his only remaining damage point for the daytime flashbacks. The nightmares and terrors were another matter entirely, but at least weren’t as regular.
Twelve’s flashbacks were infrequent, but vivid. As if he were truly back at the Settlement and the experiments were being performed on him real time. The nearly complete disconnect between the past and the present made it that much harder to bring Twelve back to reality if Nine didn’t catch the warning signs early on. Most of the time Nine did catch them early since they were so few and far in between and he and Twelve barely spent time apart from one another unless setting up for their attacks. The times he didn’t though were the most worrying.
They both had...days. Days where a kind of dark cloud settles on their minds and those old ghosts from their past would come back to haunt them relentlessly. They had come to easily spot when the other was having such a bad day, and if it could, work would be put aside for more distracting and comforting activities to keep the terrors away and it was rare for a bed to not be shared those nights. Some days though it wasn’t as noticeable, and the discomfort and fear would creep up gradually, before crashing down all at once. Nine didn’t have those kinds of days anymore, but Twelve still did, and spotting them were extremely difficult, and potentially catastrophic if not taken care of early on.
Like today.
The day had started out normal. Nine had been the first of the two to wake up and as was the rule, first one up made breakfast. Most days Twelve was up first but for whatever reason today was one of those days when Nine wound up being the early bird. It wasn’t anything to be concerned about really, some days he woke up early without cause and some days Twelve slept later without cause. Roused by the scent of bacon, Twelve staggered, still partially asleep, into the kitchen where Nine was about to start on the eggs for their meal.
“Mornin’” the brunet yawned, leaning over the raven’s shoulder to see what was being made in case his nose had somehow deceived him. His breath thankfully smelled of mint so Nine wasn’t getting a faceful of morning breath.
“Good morning,” came the reply, Nine not at all bothered by the head resting on his shoulder or the brown locks brushing against his cheek. It was a common enough occurrence and so long as he wasn’t getting a faceful of dragon breath, he was perfectly comfortable with Twelve being in his personal space. “I’ll be done in a minute. Are you ready for today? You remember what to do right?” A pointless question, and he was expecting to be called out on that fact. He just couldn’t help but ask--his inner perfectionist wanting things to go off without a hitch.
“Of course,” camed the more alert reply. The remainder of today’s importance made Twelve much more awake than he was moments ago. “Do you even need to ask?” Nine didn’t have a chance to reply--not that he was going to--before Twelve finally relieved Nine’s shoulder and moved to get the plates and silverware out for when the food was ready.
Today they were going to plant the cameras they needed at their desired bombing locations. Twelve was to plant them while nine put them online from their hideout and had Twelve adjust them as needed. Today was the day their years of planning and preparation began being put into action and Sphinx began its move towards exposing the truth of the Athena Plan.
Nine heard a startled gasp followed quickly by the sound of shattering glass. He glanced behind him to find Twelve with a sheepish and apologetic smile on his face and the shards of what was once a glass cup on the floor by his feet.
“Oops. Sorry! I guess I’m still a bit sleepy. I’ll clean it up,” Twelve said hurriedly before going to get the broom and dustpan form another room. Nine wasn’t all that concerned about it--it was just one glass out of the many they had and so long as Twelve hadn’t accidentally cut himself in the process, no real harm had been done. When the other returned with the cleaning materials, Nine muttered a ‘be more careful next time’ out of reflex than any actual desire to reprimand his partner. Accidents happen after all, and getting worked up over one glass on such an important day would be pointless.
If it hadn’t been such an important day, maybe Nine would’ve noticed the slight drag of Twelve’s feet, or the frown tugging at the corners of the brunet’s lips, or the way his eyes weren’t as bright as they usually were. All warning signs Nine would kick himself for missing later.
“A bit more to the left,” Nine instructed and watched as the view from his monitor was adjusted accordingly. “Good now up a bit,” again the view shifted until Nine called out a ‘stop’ and the camera was in perfect position. Twelve’s face suddenly appeared on the screen, an impish grin on his face and a thumbs up directed at Nine via the video stream. “Yeah, yeah, good job now go to the next floor and put that camera in place and then we’re done.”
It had taken hours for Twelve to get from place to place, and discreetly place the cameras, especially in areas where it was more populated. The risk coupled with Twelve’s increasing number of mistakes (like nearly tipping the very plant he was supposed to be discreetly placing the camera in at the police department and nearly getting caught as a result) had Nine practically pulling his hair out from concern that had more than a mild amount of irritation mixed in. He had asked repeatedly if Twelve was sure he was alright to continue--because as troublesome as it would be to put this off another day, his partner was definitely off his game and it would be more than troublesome if Twelve got caught as a result.
Each time though, Twelve insisted he was fine. Off, but fine, and they shouldn’t reschedule anything just because he felt a bit less than peak condition. Nine really should’ve caught that one and called Twelve back, but he was so absorbed in the task at hand that he didn’t think much of it and let Twelve keep going. He ignored the uneasy feeling in his gut, because other than a few slight mishaps, Twelve sounded and behaved as he usually did. Well, sounded at least. Without being there in person, Nine couldn’t spot any of the signs that something was wrong.
For now though things seemed to be running smoothly and Nine was about ready to write off the slight worry that had been tugging at his gut up until a few hours ago. The camera was placed quickly and without incident much like the three before it and Twelve was now en route back to their hideout. Letting out a long breath of relief, the raven haired teen put his head down a moment, thinking about their next plan of action after this. It was only after Twelve had pulled up on his motorcycle and came up to their apartment that Nine realized that he hadn’t filled the ride back with the usual meaningless chit chat that he usually started up. In fact, Twelve had been rather quiet the past few hours, never speaking unless being spoken too or asking about placement. Well, now that he was home, Nine could ask and get a proper look at his partner to make sure that everything really was alright.
When the door opened, Twelve came in and unceremoniously dropped the now empty duffle bag he’d been carrying onto the floor by the door, body language screaming exhaustion.
“Nice work,” Nine said, “Feeling alright?” He asked as he took in the sight of Twelve. He definitely looked tired, but that could be credited to the long day. However, the clenching and unclenching of his fists and the world weary look in his eyes immediately turned Nine in to the situation.
“Thanks. But I’m beat now. I think I’m going to take a shower and call it a night,” the brunet replied wearily, flashing Nine a small, almost forced smile.
“Yeah...there’s food on the stove if you’re hungry,” Nine offered.
“Not hungry. Thanks though.” With that, Twelve began to move away towards the bathroom. Only to have his wrist grabbed by Nine. He turned, an unasked question on his lips but Nine cut him off.
“Did something happen?” A color or an interaction with someone on the street that Nine didn’t hear or see--something that might’ve set off this unbalance in his partner’s mental state. Nine stared directly into the more petite male’s eyes, not about to let things go as easily as Twelve probably wanted him to.
“...No,” he finally sighed. “It’s just...just been a bit of a bad day. I’ve been feeling really...heavy for a while now and I just want to sleep.” Nine maintained eye contact for a while longer, trying to gauge just how badly Twelve was feeling before slowly releasing him. He was down, yes, but he didn’t look like he was going to lose it as far as Nine could tell. As it was it was a night where distractions would be best and he should be ready to make room for another occupant in his bed tonight.
“Alright, I’ll be here when you get out,” he said. It’s not like there should be any reason why Nine wouldn’t be here, shitty mood or no, but Twelve still seemed to take comfort in the words, tension leaving his shoulders, if only slightly. Nine left him to his shower and moved to the kitchen. Weariness aside, Twelve always relaxed more with a cup of hot chocolate and some ridiculous comedy movie, so Nine went about preparing it just the way he knew his partner liked it.
It was about twenty minutes later with the mugs of chocolate in the microwave to keep them warm while Nine was sifting through their movie collection that he realized the water had been running an extremely long time. He stood to go check on the other teen, a feeling of worry settling in his gut again.
And that’s when the screaming started.
A stream of curses flew from Nine’s mouth even as he dashed towards the source, instantly recognizing the distressed, agonized voice as Twelve’s. He must’ve been a lot closer to the edge than Nine thought if he was having such a complete meltdown so soon after they last spoke.
Nine threw open the bathroom door and pushed aside the shower curtain, finding Twelve, back against the tiles, lugs pulled up to his chest, and hands running up and down his arms, nails carving into fair skin with each upwards and downwards motion. The results were deep, angry looking lacerations that poured crimson as it mingled with the still running and scaldingly hot water before becoming a more rosy hue as it flowed down the drain. The screaming had since stopped, but Twelve was still trembling violently, tears indistinguishable from the tap, but still there, muttering a stream of broken, hiccuped pleas as he continued to inflict bodily harm on himself in an attempt to drown out the still vivid memories of much more violent and painful times.
“Twelve,” Nine said, trying to give the still scratching Twelve something else in the present to focus on that wouldn’t cause him harm. He turned off the water, knowing full well that water that hot couldn’t be doing anything helpful at the moment. He then stepped into the tub and forcibly removed Twelve’s hands from his arms so as to keep him from hurting himself any more than he already had. Of course he wound up being met with resistance, as his partner didn’t recognize him yet, still trapped in the throes of the flashback.
“Twelve, listen to me,” Nine insisted, still keeping his struggling partner pinned to the wall. “We escaped you’re not there anymore. You are fine, we are fine, and safe and no one there can ever hurt you again.” He was saying this, not sure if Twelve can hear him yet, but knowing that the words would eventually calm him down when he could register them. So Nine kept repeating them like a mantra, keeping Twelve in place as best he could with how slick the other’s arms were with water and blood, until Twelve slowly began to calm down. Even when Twelve’s struggles ceased completely, Nine didn’t let go and didn’t stop repeating the phrases until the other spoke.
“...Nine...?” came the weak call. Twelve was still shaking a bit, and his breathing still hadn’t quite leveled out, but it seemed like the worst was over.
“Who else?” was the reply the raven haired teen gave as he released his vice like grip on Twelve’s forearms. He couldn’t help but wince at the dark bruises left behind.
“Nine I...I was...” Twelve winced when he looked down and saw the state his arms were in. “I...did...I....Nine I’m s-sor--”
“Don’t apologize. How are you feeling now?” He asked. He never understood why Twelve tried to apologize after an episode, as if he chose to go through that hell in the first place or let the memories resurface like that. As if Nine had been the one hurting or hurt by this. It took a while for Twelve to answer, as he still tried to regain his bearings and steady his breathing. Twelve rested his hands on his shoulders and curled into a tighter ball, which was all the answer Nine needed. He stood up, not minding the water and blood soaked pants he would have to change out of later, about to step out of the tub to get the first aid kid when he felt something grab onto the back of his shirt. Twelve. His head was still down and his other hand still rested on the opposite shoulder, but the hand he grabbed on with kept a white knuckled grip on Nine’s shirt.
“We need to treat your arms so I have to get the first aid kit. I won’t even be a minute, I promise,” he said steadily. He knew Twelve hated being alone in these instances but the sooner he took care of Twelve’s arms the better. The grip remained there a moment longer before releasing the shirt and returning to the shoulder it was previously resting on. Nine moved quickly to get the kit from the closet the kept it in and true to his word, he returned 47 seconds later with the kit. Now there was the issue of the blood.
It was just about everywhere on Twelve’s body, having run from his arms down his sides and over his legs as well thanks to the running water. Some of the cuts were even still bleeding. Nine thought for a minute before deciding there was no other solution.
“Twelve, we need to rinse off the blood. Can you stand for me so I can run the shower?” at a much cooler temperature than what the brun had had it on before. Twelve remained still for a few moments, and Nine waited patiently. giving his partner all the time he needed. Eventually Twelve began to uncurl and began to stand. Nine grabbed his hand and Twelve leaned into the support. The taller teen was completely unbothered by his partner’s nudity and the blood that was now on his hands and shirt too. By now it would be weird if they were uncomfortable with this situation considering how often it happened.
Once Twelve was fully upright if not leaning slightly on the wall, Twelve turned on the shower and took the soap, beginning to lather it on the rest of the smaller male’s body do get the blood off before gently doing the same to his arms, carefully keeping them away from the rest of Twelve’s body so as to not render the previous efforts useless. He then turned off the water and began drying off Twelve sans the arms before securing the now damp cloth around his waist.
He offered his hand to Twelve, waiting until the other took it before guiding him to his bed and sitting him down. Twelve had been unresponsive and quiet throughout all this, not even flinching when the soap made contact with his injuries in the shower. Nine was never really good with words in these situations anyway, so he was fine if Twelve didn’t feel like starting a conversation. Once his arms were fully cleaned and bandaged, Nine sat quietly next to Twelve on the bed.
“I’m going to go change and wash up. Why not put on something comfortable until then?” he finally tried. Twelve nodded after only a brief pause, which was definitely an improvement. So Nine went and changed and rinsed the blood off his hands and arms before finding Twelve in an oversized tee and briefs standing in the entryway of the kitchen, probably drawn there by the still lingering scent of hot chocolate. Typical. It still brought a small smile to Nine’s face nonetheless, seeing Twelve recover quicker than usual from such a severe panic attack.
“It’s in the microwave, though they’ll probably need to be heated up again.” Seconds later he heard the machine working as it heated up the drinks and he moved to stand next to Twelve, watching as the drinks were rotated on the turntable in the microwave. Twelve was practically leaning on Nine he was so close by the time the timer went off, indicating the chocolate was ready. Nine opened the door and grabbed the mugs, moving to the couch where the tv was, Twelve never more than a step behind him. He set the mugs down, and picked up the movie he believed was Twelve’s favorite when he was in a mood. Waving the title in front of the brun, he received a small nod and moved to put the dvd in the player.
It was a a few hours and two comedies later that found them curled up under a comforter together on the couch, Twelve curled into Nine’s side, and Nine’s arm resting securely around his waist, watching half awake as the end credits rolled. The mugs of hot chocolate were empty and Nine’s shoulder was slightly damp from the couple of times Twelve had began crying silently again during the movies as he still got over the earlier episode. Now though they sit comfortably in that position, the volume on the tv turned low and both too tired and comfortable to move. They would have some wicked knots to work out when they woke up though if they stayed there, so Nine tried to find the right moment to suggest moving into bed. Until Twelve spoke for the first time in hours.
“Nine?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“It was nothing. Now, how about bed?”
“...Can I...?”
“Of course.”
That settled, Nine led Twelve over to his bed, and they slipped under the sheets. Twelve’s back was against Nine’s chest, one hand slipping under his pillow and the other resting near his side, enveloped by Nine’s hand. Nine’s arm was draped across Twelve’s waist and their legs were intertwined. Twelve could feel Nine’s warm breath on his neck, a feeling just as comforting as being spooned by his partner, and he felt better that night than he possibly had in days.
The next morning Twelve would be fine again and neither of them would broach the subject of this night. They never did and it may very well be why the flashbacks and nights like these kept happening. Or maybe they were just so broken that it didn’t matter if they spoke about it or not. So long as they had each other though, it didn’t matter. They would make it work as they always had because so long as they had each other no matter how damaged or shattered one may be, the other will pick up the pieces and any that go missing will be filled in by their partner’s own fractured parts. It was all they knew and all they wanted and for now it would suffice.