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12 days. It was dificult for Draven to process that, the care and procedures were followed as they should, and still, it's lasting and it's been 12 days. It started for what seemed to be a simple alergy, they cleaned up the apartment together, tidying up the place, folding the clothes that just finished drying on the cool autumn afternoon and James started to sniffle. A lot. He was well the following day only to show worse symptoms at evening by the time they were going to sleep. He'd cough violently, his throat feeling like tearing as it gave all of it's force to expel the phlegm. They knew from there he was sick, and he wasn't too worried about it. Draven on the oher side...
Then, came the fever. James had felt chills before, but not as intense. He trembled like every bit of his interior was freezing, and yet, his head was as hot as an oven; and in some times, the situation is somehow reversed
For Draven, it felt like anything that threatens James's health could take him away from him in an instant, he'd already had enough from reading the files after James's incident. For the doctors however, it was just Draven's impression, for James's immune system works just fine. It was all just a flu
A few medications were prescribed along with an absurd bill, and all James had to do was take them along with keeping himself in rest until further notice. The days were summed up as Draven in parent mode, checking James's temperature regularly; asking if he was feeling anything different or if he was needing something; helping him with the medications and the time they should be taken; not even letting him get up, either by doing everything or insisting for him to sit up first and wait a couple seconds, and then get on his feet, slowly
Seconds felt like hours and vice-versa; James would feel lightheaded, his vision would blur for a few instants, seeing and listening things that didn't last a solid second. "It's normal" Draven would say. "These things tend to mess with anyone's head". James believes it, and he doubts it; as he walked through the apartment, he'd avoid mirrors, then he wouldn't quit staring at them; eventually he'd shake it off, and later, it would be the only thing he could think about, and he didn't know why. He'd ask, but Draven's answers never made sense, no matter how hard and simple he tried to explain
It was getting colder as the night fell, and there seemed to be no warmer place than each other's arms. They were laying on the couch watching TV, it was Draven who was watching actually, James was curled up on his chest, eyes closed and breathing through his mouth. Draven looked down at the latter, touching the back of his hand on his forehead. Still hot
"Aren't you feeling too warm here?"
He whispered gently to his beloved. James shook his head weakily, snuggling closer. Draven knew they shouldn't be this close, but God, he just didn't want to leave his side. He looked at the time, it was nearly 7pm, and he glanced at the kitchen. Maybe getting something for him to eat could make him feel better. Draven moved James's hair out of his eyes, hearing him snore softly. He turned the TV's volume down, leaning up on his elbows and getting up from the couch cautiously, doing his best to not disturb him. He headed to the bedroom, opening the closet and taking a duvet
He sat on the edge of the bed, making sure there weren't lints, he was trying to be quick so he couldn't worry James from his absence. Suddenly, the light of the table lamp started to flicker slightly, but Draven didn't pay much mind; his head only turned and focused on it once it started to fail profusely, his brows furrowed as he realized the light wasn't flickering, it was darkening. The lightbulb made a snap sound and turned pure black, radiating a faint color and buzzing almost inaudibly. Draven reached his hand to touch it, but stopped midway as half of the lamp's shade desintegrated into the glass, and the rest of it fell on the ground, ripping apart like a wet sheet of paper
"A black hole?"
In the next second, the room fell into darkness, Draven looked up to the ceiling in reflex and noticed the light fixture simply vanished as if it never existed. He got up alarmed, and peeked out of the window, the whole block had a power cut. He rushed out of the bedroom, already feeling anxious
"James?" He called from the corridor "James, we got an abnormal activity nearby, are you-"
His words dissipated into the air as he found James on the floor, lungs whistling in a violent wheeze from the struggle of breathing. His arms were clinging around his torso and neck, and his legs contorted awfully as if something was trying to cut it's way out through his stomach. Draven's heart froze to the point of feeling it weight down on his ribcage, and he sprinted at James, kneeling down and holding him in his arms. He was gelid as a cadaver
"James! James, what's happenening!?"
James looked up at him, mouth and scar overflowing coagulated blood down his neck and chest, eyes glowing bright red with grossly deformed pupils floating around like oil on water. He opened his mouth to speak but choked on the thick, dark fluid. Draven turned him on his stomach, making James vomit the excess. Dead crickets and musty yolk blended with the blood on a puddle that smeared on Draven's knees; whirrs of ghostly vocals grew louder around him, ripping at his brainmatter with their frequencies. Draven was shaking violently, leaning his head on James's nape, and he heard him breathe heavily
"D-raven..." Called James with effort, bubbling through the blood "Drav..."
Draven shushed him, his tone faultering as he answered
"I'm here, it's okay. Actually, no, it's not. Fuck, how did it become so active?"
He said as he looked up to the sides. He lifted James up, sitting him on the couch on that familiar position, the one that haunted his life for years, and grabbed a bucket under the kitchen sink. He passed it's loop over James's neck so they could avoid making a bigger mess. Draven gripped on his hair, looking around one more time, at that moment he realized what he was risking as he was caught off guard. However he knew he had to do something, and quick, if he didn't want it to turn into a clusterfuck and get into even more trouble
He closed his eyes, trying to breathe, thinking of a way to stop it. The anchors, he remembers sneaking some in his bag as one of his teammates suggested he would need. He ran back to the bedroom, unzipping the bag and trusting on his touch as he shuffled through it, taking an anchor on his hand along with a cord, running back to the living room
He passed the cord through gaps under the device, tying the ends together and making sure the knots were firm. The hard wooden floor felt like moss above water, Draven held onto the walls, walking back to James and trying not to make sudden moves in order to not startle him. He was immobile, jaws agape and still spilling with the bucket already full by it's half; only his eyes were moving, rolling to all directions in rapid motion. Draven swallowed dry and shook James's shoulder slightly
"James, bun, can you hear me?"
His eyes snapped at him, shooting a cold stare followed by a growled yelp like a defenseless animal. Draven hopped on the couch, slipping the cords around James's shoulders and back, not even minding his clothes getting stained as James started vomiting again
"It's alright, love" he whispered on James's ear, clenching his teeth as non existent claws tore at the flesh on his back, growing wilted weeds from his ribs "I'll take care of that motherfucker for you"
Draven activated the anchor, covering them along with the apartment's perimeter in a strong light that flashed like a camera. James shrieked horribly, convulsing as he fought to get away from Draven's grasp, who only held him back with more force, careful not to suffocate him, until he'd eventually stop tossing
The lights were the first to return in the apartment, brightening up again bit by bit; then, the voices faded and the claws retreated like strings on the wind; the weeds desintegrated, but the wounds of Draven's back did not dissapear
James could breathe more properly now, gasping for air as he spit the last waves of blood and puke into the bucket; the red of his eyes crawled and sinked deep into his irises, pupils gathering together and adjusting as he took the time to realize the place he was in. He felt Draven's weight wrapped around him; the anchor shook on his soul and mind, repressing the chaos of the fragment buried in his being
"There there, sweetheart. You're home now"
Draven said softly, little minding the burning sting on his body. Oh how glad James was to hear his husband's voice so natural. Draven noticed the other got paler as the sight was clearer with the lights, and he was still shivering from the cold. James felt the dried layers of blood stretching and cracking up at his chin and hands. He breathed in, the air felt heavy as he struggled to speak
"I'm sorry"
"Shhh. You haven't done anything..."
James sobbed, gripping on Draven's shirt in weakened fists, head still heavy and throat still hurt, now with an ached body and a sensitized stomach, illed by the smell. Draven caressed James's hair, still stunned by the event but with enough energy to touch their foreheads together. Fuck the sickness, at least they were alive
"...You haven't done anything" He repeated, voice fading to a whisper as he felt tears forming up in the corners of his eyes
11pm, they changed to warmer clothes after taking a bath together, Draven felt paranoid to let James on his own after all that just happened. The block gained the power energy back a few minutes later, nothing seemed to suffer any major changes as no one reported nor called the security in the time being. The living room has been cleaned out and the whole place was a dead silence
The anchor have been settled in their room, and it was still running. Draven wasn't planning in deactivating it so soon, for he kept checking back and forth between the thermometer and the hume levels to make sure James wouldn't lose control again or get worse, and he took one of the medications in advance, in case he's been contaminated. James was laying on their bed, under covers and treated from his queasiness in small sips of cold water, feeling in a state between half sleeping, half waking. He was scared to sleep, he feared doing something irreversible to Draven while unconscious. The latter kneeled down by the bed beside him, smiling empathetically. James snorted
"I might sneeze on you"
"Don't worry, I won't stay in front of you"
He planted a kiss on James's cheek. He was still warm, but better than before
"The room's spinning again... That's not normal, is it?"
"It is, James" Draven reassured in a soft tone "We get dizzy and it sucks, but it's all good"
James still believed, and he still doubted, but he decided to trust Draven entirely this time. Draven got up on his feet, feeling James gripping on the hem of his sweater in the next second. He turned half of his body around, careful with his wounds, looking down at James with loving eyes
"Yes, bun?"
"Don't leave... Please"
He felt his heart skip a beat, so rarely he sees James asking for him to stay like that, such a sensible yet treasuring moment. Draven rounded the bed and settled under the blankets, wrapping his arm around James's waist, hugging him from behind and avoiding making pressure on his stomach. James felt as Draven breathed on his shoulder, and he held his hand, arm leaned on top of the other's. He felt a kiss on his neck
"I won't leave, okay? You'll wake up and I'll still be here"
Affirmed Draven, smiling against his hair. James took a deep breath, relaxing and entwining their fingers together
"I trust you"
He whispered quietly, allowing himself to close his eyes with heavy lids until he finally fell asleep
On the morning of the 13th day, James felt a lot better. Draven couldn't feel any more alliviated