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"Otto—," he heard your voice close behind him. You sounded shaky. Uncertain. Maybe even scared?
Immediately concerned, Otto turned around to you, his actuators were frantic, the voices grew to be so loud in his head when they saw how pale you looked.
"Y/N? Honey, what's wrong?" Otto asked, reaching out to you when he saw you sway a little, unable to keep your balance; even though you were just standing upright.
The next thing he knew, your eyes fell shut and you were dead weight in his arms.
Otto's actuators wrapped around you to help him carry you over to the couch that was a mere few feet away. As you lay there, Otto looked you over, trying so hard to not let the panic settle in. He wouldn't be much help for you that way.
As his eyes swept over you, he noted how sweaty you were, not entirely unusual for you on such a warm day as this, but concerning to him nonetheless. He also realised that your chest was completely flat. The two of you had agreed that you would wear your chest binder less; especially on hot days. He understood that today must have been more dysphoric than usual for you again, but he wished you had said something to him about it, rather than keeping it to yourself and suffering alone.
Cautiously, he took your shirt into his hands and rolled the hem up above your chest. Otto inhaled sharply when he saw bruises start just below the edge of your chest binder. One that you usually didn't wear anymore either because it had gotten too small.
"Oh, Y/N," he sighed sadly, "Why didn't you talk to me?"
Of course he should be getting you to a hospital, let them check you out and help you properly, better than he possibly could. The problem with that was the fact that he was still a wanted man, considering the crimes he had committed not too long ago. He couldn't just walk into a hospital with your passed out form in his arms.
For a couple of minutes, he thought long and hard about all the doctors he knew and if at least one of them was the kind of doctor he needed. There had to have been someone.
But it was so hard for him to think at all when his actuators were so frantic. The voices in his head were overlapping. All of them were asking if you were okay, why you wouldn't wake up, what was wrong with you, and if you were dead.
"Hey, now, it's okay," he cut through that last thought, "Y/N's going to be fine, I promise," he told them, trying his best to sound certain of his promise and to convince himself that he was. Because right now, he actually wasn't too sure about it either.
For a moment it was eerily quiet.
Then, his top right actuator was the first to move and gently prod you, poking your cheek, your stomach and thigh, trying to get a reaction from you.
The other ones followed their brother suit, one by one, until all of them were poking you at the same time in different spots, almost petting you.
They had always been so fond of you, rightfully so, and this whole situation really put that into perspective for him. He knew that the actuators saw him as their father, but that they saw you the exact same way had never been this clear to him as it was now. If only the circumstances for that realisation had been different.
Gently, Otto cupped your cheek in his hand and stroked his thumb over your skin there, attempting to sort through the voices in his head and actually think of a solution.
Part of him was certain that the first step he should take was to relieve you of your chest binder, but he couldn't make himself take it off of you when you weren't even conscious. It was wrong, wasn't it? Yes, he was your partner and he'd seen your chest plenty of times because on some days you felt okay enough to let him see it; but that was only ever because you wanted it, when you were fully conscious and able to consent. It had never been like this and he felt so bad for even thinking about helping you that way. Wouldn't he just make things worse for you for when you woke up?
As his own anxiety settled in, once he found that he couldn't come up with a suitable solution, his actuators began panicking again. The voices became too loud, too overwhelming, too negative. What was he supposed to do?
"I can't lose you, too," Otto confessed his deepest fear in a broken whisper.
Steeling himself with a couple of deep breaths, he carefully took your shirt into his hands and pulled it off of you, folded it up and put it aside. Perhaps it really was the only way. But what if it wasn't? What if there were other things he could do? What if he could wake you up for just long enough to see what you'd say?
He's never been this uncertain about anything in his life. As a nuclear physicist he couldn't afford to be unsure. And yet here he was, driving himself crazy with all the questions that were running circles in his mind. But were those only his questions? He couldn't tell the voices apart anymore.
Water.
Perhaps that would be a better start for now. He would need a bottle of water. You were so sweaty and felt burning to his touch. If you needed anything it wasn't just a doctor, but also hydration. He could do that.
He willed himself to make his actuators listen to him for a split second and ask them to bring him a bottle of water. They basically all scrambled to fulfil the task, stretching out through the house and grabbing a bottle each, handing them to Otto a minute later. After that, they immediately went back to petting you like they had been doing the entire time.
"Y/N?" Otto tried calling for you again, continuing to stroke your cheek with his thumb as he held a water bottle in his free hand. "Sweetheart?"
Nothing.
Sighing, Otto took his hand off of your cheek and lowered it to rest just beneath the hem of your chest binder.
Before he could actually get a grip on the fabric, after putting the bottle down, Otto noticed how much more frantic his actuators suddenly were. For a split second, Otto's heart stopped as he thought they had detected something even worse happening with you. But when he looked up, he saw your eyelids fluttering slightly.
"Y/N! Can you hear me, darling?" Otto took hold of your hand, feeling your fingers twitch against his skin as you groaned quietly.
"Ow," you whispered, groaning again.
"Oh, my dear boy, I was- Is it okay if I take it off? Your binder, I mean," Otto asked, stumbling over his own words with how hurried he was, unknowing whether or not you could even hear him, let alone stay awake long enough to answer.
Weakly, you nodded, letting out a very quiet "yeah".
Relieved, Otto kissed the back of your hand that he was holding and let go of it. He saw the hesitation you fought with before you answered, and he was so proud of you for pushing through it.
His actuators helped you sit up and supported you, while he gingerly took off your binder, revealing more and more bruises as he went. Your skin was darkened purple and blue everywhere your binder had put more pressure on it. His heart hurt for you. He wished you had never had to go through this pain.
As soon as the binder was off, Otto grabbed your shirt and put it back on you, knowing you wouldn't want to be shirtless for too long. After that, the actuators let you lie back down gently, petting you again.
"Are you still with me, my dear boy?" Otto inquired worriedly, seeing your eyes closed again.
The only response he got was an affirmative sound in the back of your throat.
"I have some water here. I thought you should drink some, okay? I'll call someone I know when you're done," he explained softly, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand.
Otto took one of the bottles into his hands, unscrewed it, and held it with his right hand as he used his left to support your head to levitate it a little. Then he put the bottle against your lips, slowly letting you drink from it.
Once the bottle was empty and your eyes stayed open, Otto's actuators calmed down, allowing him to think properly at last. There was one doctor he could call, he remembered, and so he did. Otto was truly lucky, considering all his connections, and so his old colleague was on his way to treat you now.
"You'll be okay, Y/N," he told you gently, kissing your forehead and then lips, "You'll be okay."
"Thank you," you whispered before you were out again.
As worried as Otto may have been, he knew you'd be in good hands and that you'd be fine eventually, which was all that kept him as calm as he was, then.
Nonetheless, the two of you had a lot to talk about once you were awake and well again.