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"Chase, have you taken your medicine?"
Henrik's voice held the doctor-y tone it usually did when he checked up on his housemate. They had been living together for a few years, with the doctor being Chase's caretaker. Sometimes it felt oddly deeper than that, when his patient would relapse into alcohol and spew slurred confessions of varying degrees as Henrik held him and swallowed his own internal confusion at their dynamic. The next day he would wake up none the wiser, and Henrik never mentioned it. They both had enough feelings already.
Now, he knocked gently on Chase's door, waiting patiently for a reply as he shook his wandering thoughts away. Still nothing. They had taken the lock off the door ages ago for safety reasons, so Henrik poked his head inside.
Chase was standing, looking down at the open drawer of his dresser, his hand still limply on the handle. His eyes were blank and unfocused as they stared ahead, the rest of his face completely expressionless. Inside, everything was fuzzy, faraway and dull.
-Can someone just decide?-
-Henrik's here.-
-Yeah, we can't talk to him unless someone controls the meat suit.-
-Don't say it like that, that's gross!-
-Can we focus please?-
-Why are we standing here, anyway?-
Henrik hummed, giving a small sympathetic smile that barely tugged at his lips. This was what he was here for after all. Stepping fully into the room, he moved towards the blurry-minded body.
-Henrik is coming over.-
-Ugh, I can't even move our head up.-
The doctor gently lifted the body's hand off of the open drawer's handle, placing the other hand on the slumped shoulder. As Henrik stepped forward, the body followed suit, as if on autopilot. Eventually, with minute steps, Henrik was guiding the dissociated body to sit on the foot of the bed. It's face remained blank, eyes staring nowhere in particular.
-Why does he always do that?-
-He doesn't want us to fall.-
-He's being a good friend.-
-Our head hurts...-
-Can someone just take over already?-
A thin hand was rubbing the body's back firmly, attempting to ground them in the present.
"I am here, take your time," he soothed patiently.
-He said somethin' about meds, right?-
-Marvin, you usually handle that.-
-I was out earlier.-
-That's your job, though.-
-I didn't say no, I was simply making a statement.-
-Being blurry sucks, stop being prissy and get up front.-
-A please would be nice.-
The body let out a soft, throaty noise that sounded vaguely like agitation. Henrik squeezed an arm around them.
"Marvin usually handles the medicine, yes? Would you like me to help trigger him out?"
There was a barely visible nod against Henrik's shoulder, where the body's head was resting. The doctor hummed in confirmation.
"Marvin? Marvin, you are needed up here," Henrik urged gently, "Come on up."
The body's eyelids fluttered slightly, like pushing your way out of a funhouse mirror maze and back into the bustling crowd. Like the volume of the world being turned back up. Baby blue eyes blinked heavily, regaining their vague focus. Henrik retracted his arm, aware of Marvin's preference about not being touched.
"Take your time, there we are," he mumbled, resting his hands in his lap. Watching a switch always fascinated Henrik's curious mind. He would not wish the experiences on himself, and he was always empathetic to his friends and careful not to treat them like a test subject, he was simply a curious man at heart.
Marvin gave a soft groan, head still fuzzy with dissociation. He held up a finger to signal Henrik to give him a moment. The doctor nodded, eternally patient.
"We're on the bed," the voice came out airier, higher than Chase's normal voice, with a faint twinge of an accent Henrik couldn't hope to identify.
"Yes," Henrik answered plainly, "You are."
Marvin nodded, seemingly satisfied. He went to run a hand through his neatly cut brown hair, flinching when his fingers tapped the baseball cap that Chase always kept on. The magician rolled his eyes, removing the headpiece dramatically.
"I honestly don't know how Chase keeps this thing on," he mumbled, "It makes our hair greasy."
Henrik shrugged, though he couldn't help but smirk at Marvin's exaggerated pout.
"It makes Chase happy," he answered, "And if that means I remind you all to wash your hair more often than normal, I can tolerate that."
Marvin hummed, eyebrows twitching up in mildly impressed acknowledgement.
“Fair enough,” he placed the hat on the nightstand and rolled his neck, “You said we need the meds, right?”
Henrik nodded, his grin brightening a bit.
_______
Marvin and Henrik were fixing lunch for themselves an hour or so later, the magician’s hair still damp from the shower he insisted on taking. Henrik suggested dry shampoo, but Marvin had given him a look that made the doctor put his hands up in surrender. Marvin was clearly the expert here, muttering something about “gross powder texture” and “better off dipping it in oil”. So Henrik kept his mouth shut.
Marvin was gently stirring some leftover chicken in a saucepan, sprinkling odds and ends from the spice cabinet onto the simmering meat every so often. The kitchen was beginning to get pleasantly fragrant when Marvin began muttering, seemingly to himself.
“Yes… You can eat with me if you'd like,” he mumbled, “No, the ‘cooking for two’ joke is still not funny…. Because we’re eating the same amount.”
Henrik chuckled despite himself at Marvin’s exasperated voice, overhearing the one sided conversation from his spot at the small dining room table. He figured either Chase or Jackie was co-conscious, given Marvin usually reserved his ‘annoyed older sibling’ voice for their shenanigans.
“If you keep distracting me it’ll get burnt, you moron!”
“Who is it?” Henrik’s head perked up to catch Marvin’s head over the counter.
“Jackie,” he sighed dramatically, “You know how he gets.”
“I do indeed,” Henrik chuckled before turning back to his pasta with alfredo. It was still in the plastic container he ordered it in last night. Friday was takeout night.
“You can be co-front if you don’t eat too fast,” Marvin scolded, “I know you like how I cook but if you make us sick- ….I have to sound bossy! Gods know you never listen either way!”
Marvin huffed and the stove turned off with a click. The pleasant, spicy scent hung in the air as silverware scraped and plates clinked. Henrik watched Marvin approach the table, his posture much better than Chase’s. Most would call him prissy, but Henrik simply thought he looked dignified. The chicken looked perfectly seared and juicy, making Henrik almost jealous. He gave a heavy sigh as he sat down.
“I tell you, it's a wonder I don't strangle him in headspace,” Marvin grumbled as he began neatly cutting the chicken.
“That would likely ruin your ‘loving caregiver’ reputation,” Henrik cocked his eyebrows with a small smirk.
“Ha!” Marvin covered his mouth, “That’s Jameson’s reputation. My reputation is the annoying mom who has to do the shit no one else wants to.”
“And everyone wonders why you're so snappy,” Henrik shook his head, vaguely imagining they were two exasperated parents at a PTA meeting. The image made him swallow a chuckle.
“Exactly! I swear, you and Jameson are the only ones who appreciate me.”
“I am sure they all appreciate you,” Henrik’s face softened a fraction, “They just like to mess with you.”
Marvin huffed again, not answering and instead taking big bites of his chicken. Henrik didn’t press the conversation.
When the plate was clean, another voice replaced Marvin’s.
“I swear, I have no clue how you do that with, like, three spices and day-old chicken.”
Henrik chuckled at the observation he assumed was made by Jackie, given the stronger, sharper voice that almost boomed out of the body. Facial features slipped into a slightly cocky smirk.
“I work with what I have,” Marvin said, clearly proud of himself.
________
Jackie was co-front for most of the afternoon, him and Marvin bantering off and on and trying to decide what to watch. Henrik had taken to washing the dishes while they rested on the couch, hands covered in rubber gloves as he worked.
He looked up after he noticed the two alters had fallen silent for a long while. While he was fully prepared for another dissociation episode, he smiled when he saw they had fallen peacefully asleep.
_______
Several days passed like normal for Henrik and Chase. Jameson had fronted and spent an evening playing card games with the doctor. He was remarkably good at bluffing, which made sense, given that he was an introject of a silent movie actor Chase had seen in his college years. He intended to go into film editing, which is where he originally saw the old film, but it simply wasn't a healthy lifestyle. In the end it worked out, and Chase was able to edit YouTube videos for his friend Jack while still being able to manage his conditions from home.
Now, Henrik was driving Chase to the grocery store to pick up some odds and ends. Halfway through the drive, Chase nodded to himself, giving a small ‘mhm’.
“Marvin wants that special pasta, what’s it called?.....Farafalle?”
“The bowtie noodles? Yes, we can get those.”
Chase went silent again, before rolling his eyes.
“You could've just called them bowties… Yes, I know ya gotta be fancy!”
Henrik chuckled at the exchange as Chase fell silent again.
“Was that everything you all needed? Other than the list we have?”
Chase nodded, shutting his eyes to ground himself. His caretaker glanced at him quickly, relaxing when he simply stretched and got comfortable again.
______
The shopping trip went smoothly, with Chase following Henrik around the quaint little store like a lost puppy. Both of them nearly forgot Marvin's request, but they were reminded when they nearly passed the pasta aisle. Soon their basket was full and their list was checked off.
“Hen, can I run to the bathroom before we go?” Chase asked Henrik as they stood in line.
“Of course, Chase,” Henrik nodded, “I’ll wait in the car if you're not back?”
Chase nodded back, shooting a quick thumbs up before half-jogging to the restrooms. He might've been half dissociated, or maybe just not paying attention, because his shoulder collided hard with another shopper, and he let out a sharp grunt.
“S-Sorry, I-”
Chase’s words cut off like he was being choked, locking blue eyes with the cold muted green of his ex wife. Stacy rubbed her shoulder, scoffing a bit. Before Chase could process, a weak humming noise left his throat and everything went fuzzy. He was sinking, like he’d been shoved off a diving board into the warm, deep ocean. The switch was near instant, the residual fear that had been Chase’s now darkening into a scowl.
“Watch where you're going,” Anti snapped, Chase’s once soft, apologetic voice sounding as close to crackling static that human vocal cords could get.
“Excuse me?” Stacy shot back, “You’re the one who-”
“I don’t fucking care. Piss off before the janitor has a murder scene to clean up.”
“Really Chase, are you threatening me? I thought we left on decent terms.”
“You slapping us and screaming is not ‘decent terms’, and I'm not Chase-”
“Oh, you're still on about this delusional bullshit?”
“The only delusional one here is you. We got a goddamn diagnosis and moved on with our lives, I don’t think a psychiatrist has meds for being a fucking bitch.”
“Excuse me?! I will call the fucking cops!”
“For what? Yourself? Yer lucky Chase was too much of a pussy to report you to the fuckin’ cops every time you hit him.”
“I barely touched you, Chase, you're so fucking dramatic!”
“I’m not Chase.”
“Will you cut the fucking act?!”
A few shoppers were muttering amongst themselves, quickly moving to the next aisle and putting their heads down. Anti was eerily calm, masking the absolutely roiling urge to tear the woman apart. Stacy’s face was bright red in her anger, something Anti took great pleasure in. His fiery eyes darted down to the woman’s hand clenched in a fist at her side.
“Yeah, can’t hit us in public can ya?” Anti grinned despite himself, “Can’t crack that little facade like you cracked our nose.”
Stacy huffed a breath out her nose, and Anti noted the mannerism as that of an angry bull. He smirked wider.
“That’s what I thought.”
Anti turned on his heel towards the bathroom, scowling again. As soon as the door shut behind him–luckily it was a single bathroom–the fuzziness of dissociation took over again.
-What the hell was that?!
-I did my job. You woulda let her walk all over you.-
-You could’ve gotten us arrested.-
-And Henrik woulda bailed us out.-
-That is not the mindset we should be having, Anti.-
-Shit shit we’re fainting we're fainting!-
The empty body slumped forward as its knees buckled, mostly numb except for the distant feeling of cold, almost wet tile against their arms and cheek. They didn't blink, didn't feel, just laid there empty.
-We have to call Henrik.-
-The phone’s ringing, he's calling US.-
-Shit we can't move, why can't we move?!-
There were rapid heavy knocks at the door. It felt instant, but in reality the dissociated body had been laying there for half an hour.
“Chase!” Henrik’s voice sounded muffled and far away, “I-I am coming inside!”
Henrik pushed the door open, not intending to wait for an answer. The doctor’s face was etched with worry, sliding to his knees next to the limp body.
“I am going to trigger someone out, just so we can get home, okay?”
The body made a soft noise, answering on autopilot.
“Oh, you poor thing on this dirty floor… Chase? Come up with me, Chase. Come on, let’s get you home liebe…”
Henrik pressed his hands onto the body’s shoulders, trying to ground them. Chase felt like he was trudging through tar, trying to pull himself towards Henrik’s voice and touch. Slowly, dazedly, he blended back into his body, blinking heavily. A long, strained wheeze left his lips, and his hands fumbled blindly for Henrik.
“There we are, I am here mein liebe, I am here,” Henrik soothingly rubbed Chase’s back, “Can you sit up for me?”
Weak, trembling hands gripped Henrik’s body, and Chase pulled himself up into a sitting position.
“Mmh.. I-I.. Nnh..”
“Shh, it is alright, you do not have to explain right now,” Henrik reassured, pulling Chase into a standing position. Slowly, they made their way to the exit, Chase steadily got used to operating his body again. Seemingly in the blink of an eye, Henrik was guiding him into the passenger seat and they were on the road. Chase’s whole worldview was hazy around the edges, as if his face was behind a veil.
-Well, that did not go very well…-
-I wasn’t expecting to see one of our abusers on a friendly outing.-
-She’s not an abuser…-
-Oh, here we fuckin’ go again!-
-She punched us in the face!-
-If she ain’t an abuser, go on and get back with her!-
-You would kill her, Anti.-
-I like that plan.-
-You can’t solve everything with violence!-
-I very much beg to differ.-
Chase was staring into space as he and his headmates argued, unaware of the nervous glances Henrik was giving him. The doctor didn’t say anything until they pulled into the driveway.
“We're home, Chase.”
The internal conversation faded into the background, and Chase blinked heavily. He barely remembered getting into the car.
“Home..?” Henrik nodded.
“Oh.. M’kay.”
Henrik took the bags and led the way inside, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Chase was following. After dropping the bags on the table, Henrik guided the system to the couch and sat them down. The man’s normally icy blue gray eyes were soft like powdered snow.
“Do you want to tell me what happened, liebe?” he ventured carefully, ignoring how his accent grew stronger with his worry.
-Tell him, Chase.-
-Yes, it is not good to bottle it all up. Henrik can help.-
Chase bit his lip, staring at his hands where he was wringing them in his lap. His voice was quiet, guilty, as if he expected Henrik to be angry at him. Henrik had never gotten angry at him.
“Saw Stace,” he said simply, “Bumped into her and it triggered Anti out. Got all fuzzy, everyone tried jumping in at once and I think we passed out for a sec.”
Henrik’s thick brows furrowed, humming and nodding.
“I waited about 20 minutes before I got worried and called you. Normally I would not wait that long, but I know you sometimes need the quiet space. The store can be overwhelming.”
Chase nodded, still not looking up at Henrik.
“What did Anti say, or can you recall?”
“Told ‘er she was a delusional bitch,” the grating, higher pitched growl came from Chase’s throat, who blinked heavily and then sighed.
“Y-You know how he gets with her..”
Henrik hummed again. For the time being, he swallowed his own resentment at Chase’s previous partner. His own feelings could wait.
“Understandably so. His job is to protect you.”
Chase could FEEL the proud smirk Anti had.
“He threatened her, we could’ve gotten arrested!” Chase had locked eyes with Henrik now, brows knitted upward in concern. The doctor sighed.
“I know. And I would have bailed you out. Empty threats are not a serious offense.”
“That’s exactly what he said,” Chase grumbled, folding his arms.
“Maybe he is right.”
Chase gave a high, indignant chirp of laughter.
“Don’t stroke his ego.”
Henrik chuckled at that, and Chase followed suit. Chase often found the doctor’s laugh contagious. After a moment Henrik adjusted his glasses, cheeks still rosy from his little laughing fit.
“I think we need to set something up, either on your phone or offline so that I know if you are in a situation like that. The fainting, I mean.”
“If I’m passed out how can I notify you?”
“When you wake up, dummkopf,” Henrik pouted and raised his eyebrows, “So I can get there faster instead of you laying on the disgusting bathroom floor for half an hour.”
Chase raised his eyebrows and shrugged, basically saying ‘fair enough’.
“Speaking of, you should get a nice shower. I am sure the whole thing was rather unpleasant, and you should wash the germs off of you.”
-That floor was disgusting.-
-It was like, wet.-
Chase shook his head exasperatedly, huffing a laugh under his breath.
“Sounds good to me.”