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Rhett gasped for breath as he cried, more tears squeezing out of his eyes even while he wiped them away. He was sitting in the closet, knees drawn up to his chest and his back rocking him back and forth like a self-made cradle. He liked it in the dark, hidden away behind the wall of clothes, he needed it to be dark to cry. His therapist had told him it wasn’t healthy, that he needed to learn how to process his emotions freely. But hearing his own sobs echo in the large empty rooms of the mansion was the worst embarrassment he could think of, plus maybe in here Brahms wouldn’t hear him.
It had come on randomly, like a strike of lightning on a cloudless day. He had been in the garden, brushing over the ripening strawberries when he felt it. The screams, the gunfire, the dark smog of the explosions filling his lungs. Burning his throat, his leg burning…shrapnel pushing jaggedly out of his calf. The coughs and shouts of his unit, Brendon’s mangled body laying in front of him. His eyes wide and puckering like a fish, brain oozing out from his crushed skull. The stench of his blood. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get away. Waiting, waiting for days for help to arrive, mind decaying beneath the rubble with the corpse, oh god the smell of it. He had almost vomited, coughing and gasping for clean air. He had run inside, barricading himself in the closet of his bedroom. There he couldn’t see, there he was surrounded by close walls. There nobody could see him.
Brahms had followed him when he had run inside. Though Rhett hadn’t noticed him of course in his frenzy, he had seen him barrel up the stairs and slam his bedroom door. Hesitantly Brahms tiptoed up the stairs, timidly knocking at the door.
“Rhett?” His voice was small and childish by instinct.
Rhett buried his head in his knees, shaking his head. God please not now, not him . He could barely think, much less try to deal with him gently.
There was another knock on the door from Rhett’s lack of answer. It made him jump, anger and desperation ravaged his thoughts. He couldn’t see him like this, and it was none of his business anyway. God why did Brahms always ask about what happened? Can’t he just leave it alone? Can’t he just leave him alone?
“Go away!” He shouted. His voice bouncing off the walls of the dark closet.
“Rhett? Please let me in.” Brahms called. Now trying the lock on the door.
The jiggling of the doorknob forced a sob from Rhett’s throat. Reminded only of machine gun fire, he was still trapped there alone and cold with no escape.
“FUCKING GO AWAY! PLEASE!” He didn’t even know he was yelling. It was mostly to himself.
“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”
He sobbed again, rocking back and forth as his memory consumed him.
Brahms did go away, though Rhett hardly paid attention. His crowded mind festering with memories and fear, he cried out again banging his head with his fists. Trying to somehow get away, to stop the smell and sight of the corpse in front of him. The man he had loved in front of staring right at him.
Suddenly one of the walls had disappeared, and he felt a presence in the darkness beside him. He felt hands around him, warm and slithering arms wrapping around his shoulder. He cried out, beginning to fight and thrash against it. But they held tight, clothes flying everywhere as he banged his feet and hands against the walls. But in his fighting there was a small noise, a small hiss of a snake close by his ear.
Shh shhh.
Rhett stopped and listened for a moment. Focusing on the noise. Pinpointing it in his mind.
“Hush Rhett, hush.” It said.
The slithering arms became gentle, cradling him now like a mother cradling her baby. He could feel the warmth of the other, of the caregiver. He heaved out another sob, less of agony but more of sharp relief.
The whisper continued, a guiding hand leading back into the warm reality around him. He began to realize who it was, who else could it be? The only other who could’ve found him, the only other who could bypass a locked door.
“Brahms…” he sighed, leaning his now heavy pounding head against his shoulder.
The memory was hazy now, disappearing back into the mists of time. He caught his breath, the air beginning to fill his lungs once again. He felt Brahm’s hand in card through his hair, and he shut his eyes.
“Shit…” Rhett panted, wiping his eyes again.
There was a soft chuckle from Brahms, and he felt him press a kiss to his temple. It was strangely comfortable being pressed against Brahm’s in this cramped closet, it was something very intimate. He could feel each breath he took, the small flex of muscles under the skin as he settled himself. The rush of blood under hot skin.
He was alive, they both were alive. Warm and safe together in this tiny space, this small dark world.
After a short eternity, Rhett finally began to move. His body beginning to ache from the strange position he was in. Leaning over he opening the door to the outside. The outside of the inside of his bedroom. Light flooded the little world, and Rhett had to squint to adjust. He could now see the clothes strewn all over him, over both of them. In the darkness they had disappeared, now here they were as a consequence of Rhett’s episode. Brahms allowed him to crawl out, though was quick to follow him when he stood. He took his cheek in his hand, thumbing away what was left of the tears.
Rhett grimaced, sniffling now.
“Hey, hey I’m fine, I’m-“
Brahms shook his head, taking the hem of his cardigan and now wiping his nose.
Rhett resisted, but not enough to stop him. Being fussed over like this, it made his memories seem like a dream. Like it was all a bad dream he had woken up from, his life had always been here. In the hands and tender care of Brahms, and nothing else existed except that.
Brahms took a deep breath, brushing away Rhett’s hair. He kissed him on the forehead once again, his large hand resting on his shoulder. Rhett placed a hand on it, smiling reassuringly.
“I’m alright now…” He said finally, his voice a tired rasp.
“Are you sure?” Brahms asked.
Rhett nodded, pressing himself against Brahms’s chest again. He wanted nothing more but to have him near, to hear him breathing…anything to keep him from cold solitude.
Brahms kissed his hair, wrapping his arms around him again. Engulfing him in his embrace, Rhett hummed in contentment.
“I need a nap.” He said, his voice muffled against Brahm’s broad chest.
Brahms went back to petting his hair. A gentle smile on his lips.
“I wouldn’t mind that.” He said quietly.
Rhett melted against him, almost forcing Brahms to carry him to the large bed. He flopped face down onto the mattress, Brahms climbing into bed next to him.
Once again Rhett felt the arms slither around him, strong hands holding him close against a chest. A strong, living breathing chest. Brahms pulled the covers up over them, Rhett settling himself into his embrace.
“Thank you…” he murmured.
Brahms pecked his cheek, pressing his head in the crook of Rhett’s shoulder.
“You’re welcome.” He whispered.
Brahms watched as Rhett drifted off, feeling the way his waist rose and fell under his arm as he breathed. Silently he could only wonder what upset him so badly, and why he couldn’t have been there to stop it.