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“Must I?”
He was nearly half-way to begging Lawrence to not make him take any further steps towards the accursed building, but the stern look in his boyfriend’s eyes quiets any further complaints he had and Bentley lowers his head, following behind like a cowed hound. “I’m-” The apology falls silent on his lips as Laurie entwines their hands together, a firm, reassuring press of cool warmth that almost soothes the tearing burn in his arm.
Bentley’s expression furrows, a hiss through gritted teeth, that causes the grip on his hand to tighten, a worried glance from his lover as they pull up towards the front doors of the building, the man silent since they first woke up, Royce still tightly wound around his wrist, almost cutting off any circulation in his other arm.
Laurie should’ve been used to it by now; they both should have been.
Familiar and boyfriend both witnessing far worse throughout their time together. Hells, Lawrence had seen worse when they couldn’t stand the sight of each other. It was barely anything that he couldn’t handle, potions available within a moments notice to quiet the searing episodes, a bed to collapse into when walking was far too much of a bother. Ultimately, it always fell to a series of pain management techniques and ignoring it until it faded enough, both things he could do with practised ease. Plus, he still had his ability to speak, so it was hardly anything to worry about, let alone bring to the attention of healers who’ve never even had a chance at figuring out how to deal with his condition in the first place.
It was hardly anything, and yet, Lawrence wanted him to see a healer, so he would try and humour his boyfriend’s wishes. Bentley could at least do as much for him, and so he steels his frayed nerves as the doors open to allow the trio in, a flicker of his familiar’s tongue in soft encouragement, a reminder of her clinging presence, faint touches of her pride conveyed through the unwavering connection, strong and steadfast despite the-
Despite everything.
It’s a click of Laurie’s heels against the floor that brings him back, the man already having turned away from the receptionist with a tight smile towards Bentley, the concern too firmly set in his expression for it to be anything but an ineffective mask in place mainly for the wizard’s comfort and to keep up appearances to strangers, hands returning to their entwined position, a brush of a thumb over a forefinger, some of the tension leaving the sorcerer’s shoulders as he returns. Still, Lawrence remained visibly agitated and wound up so Bentley unable to help himself pulls Lawrence a touch closer as the half-orc pretends to turn their attention away from the only two visitors towards more pressing matters, the upside-down lettering a clear indication that this may be in fact an act.
Let them stare.
He could handle it, for him. He would handle everything, if it meant that Lawrence could relax by another fraction.
The shorter man says nothing initially, leaning into the quiet presence of his wizard and taking a shuddering breath, a quick nod in the direction of the nosy worker in goodbye which was far too kind, really.
“You-” Lawrence quiets, starting too sharp to allow himself to speak any further for fear of how he might say it, dragging his boyfriend to the empty seats and ensuring Bentley was sat down before joining him. “I made sure they would get you in today.” ‘Now’ is implied but not stated outright, a sort of faint pride in his words at having been able to arrange it, or maybe it was just the casual pride that Laurie exuded, the dull thud in Bentley’s ears drowning out much of the logical thought, the casual gnawing at his nerves unfading and causing everything to be far too cloudy for his liking, making it hard to breathe normally, let alone interpret exactly what his lover was thinking. “They said it’d take five.” Minutes, hours, not seconds or days. Probably not hours, though he wouldn’t really mind.
Or maybe he would, the lights far too bright, the rooms too clinical, cold and sharp in every aspect.
“It’s fine,” The words come out anyway as he leans his head against Laurie’s shoulder, letting the cologne mask the scent of antiseptics. It wasn’t, it was. It would be, once they left. “I’m fine.” And he was, really, they could just leave but he doesn’t quite say it aloud, having already resigned himself on this one appointment to alleviate the worry plaguing his lover. His loved ones, really, Royce having unfurled from his wrist, the snake on his shoulders and curling around his neck, finally pressing her tiny head against it.
“It’s nothing you need to be alarmed about - it’s normal.”
The reassurance falls flat as two sets of eyes stare at him accusingly with that confusing affection, manicured fingers grasping at his now empty wrist, applying slight pressure to the pulse point there before lifting Bentley’s hand to his lips, a kiss to his fingers and a sharp inhale as Laurie tries to steady himself, another breath in place of a verbal response, words failing once more.
“You-” It’s slower this time, purposeful, as if dragging it out would make it easier to speak though by all accounts it didn’t seem to. “Were asleep.” A confused nod of Bentley’s head at that, moving his hand away from Laurie’s lips to cup his cheek, the sorcerer closing his eyes at the touch, relishing in it with a shuddering exhalation.
“We both were?” It’s a quiet prompt and Royce responds first with an agitated hiss, another flutter of forked tongue against skin, this time in warning to behave or be quiet, or maybe, both, the snake quick to follow it up with a push of her head against his jaw with subdued affection.
“You stopped breathing, Bentley.” Again. In front of me, in our bed, by my side. “You stopped breathing.” His voice doesn’t crack, but it wavers, tight-lipped as his hands fall into his lap, fingers digging past fabric as the memory returns in the quiet lull of the waiting room. “I couldn’t do anything,” What could he have done? What should he do next time? If there was a next time. When there was a next time. “You stopped breathing.” Dead again, lifeless and all he could do was watch.
Again.
Always watching you die.
You “Didn’t respond.” Silence, silent and still breathing beside him. “So you’re going, and you’ll answer any questions they have. You’ll do anything they say.” I can’t have you die again. “You’ll let them help.” Gods, let them help. “You’ll listen to them, and you’ll let them help. Please,” The plea escapes him in a whisper, a breath he hadn’t meant to say aloud but Lawrence would beg, if he had to. For him, he would do anything and Bentley was much the same, the pair cut from the same cloth.
So Bentley nods, because he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again but he could at least do this and it’s good enough.
It would have to be.
"They'll help."