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HUGE EMETOPHOBIA CW
Rider sat up quickly and nearly let the bile leave his throat. Where was he? His vision was so blurry and his entire body was so cold yet so hot he could hardly feel. A cold breeze. A gentle voice. Rider's heart was still racing as his right eye was blotching and his head felt as if someone were hammering nails into it.
That's when an arm interlocked with his and things began to click in his head.
He was in his bedroom, probably, with one of his partners awake beside him. It was a nightmare. Was it? He couldn't process anything. His adrenaline and terrible migraine weren't allowing him to see or hear anything, but even something so foreign as somebody's arm locked with his was helpful enough to keep his head grounded within reality.
A few whispers. Shifting sounds. His head ached. The arm left his, and his heart lurched in tandem. He felt pressure from beneath his shoulders. Was he being lifted? Oh, god, how his head ached. Surely enough, he felt himself shuffling his knees across the sheets. Once he felt his feet hit the ground everything got fuzzy. his head ached. The bile stubbornly stayed in his throat and made it feel like he'd swallowed fire. His head ached so badly he didn't even know where he was anymore.
That damned nightmare—no, memory. It had occurred once again, and every single time it did occur, it gave Rider these moments of weakness that he couldn't stand having around his partners. But he was told by his therapist that he couldn't handle them by himself, and that's what caused them all to finally just move in together.
And it made Rider feel absolutely terrible.
Not because he had to live with them, but the thought of him and his partners all getting a house together just because Rider couldn't stop being weak once he lets his guard down was enough to drive him to—
His body jerked forward quickly. The bile finally won, violently erupting from his throat as he let out a loud retching sound. It spilled from his jaws and gave him a repulsive, unpalatable taste in his mouth. His hands gripped the cold surface tight as ever, as if he were hanging from it. What was he holding onto? He blinked away the tears in his eyes that came from the sheer force of his gagging and found an... unpleasant sight below him.
He was on his knees on the hard bathroom floor bent over the toilet. A warm hand rested on his back and there was a gentle tug on his tentacles behind him, holding them back, but he couldn't get himself to turn around to see exactly who it was. He was practically coughing his lungs up and gagging multiple other times in the process, and really didn't need any more motion to make him even more nauseous. His head felt lighter, and his eye was less blotched, but he was taken for a hell of a ride before he began recovering.
"Rider..?" A hushed whisper came from behind him, and he knew who it was immediately.
"Army," Rider hiccuped in a raspy voice, turning around to meet Army's eyes as the latter let go of his tentacles. He sounded awful; he sounded weak. "I-I told you I don't need—" He paused to turn back around and gag once again, but there was nothing left to come out. He heaved, his broad shoulders hunching forward as he shuddered, taking in a sharp breath to finish his words, "...your help."
"Don't speak or you'll just keep gagging," Army ordered, resting a gentle hand on the other's back once more. His words had an edge of sting to it, but his tone was filled with concern and pity. This would have been comforting to Rider if he wasn't actively trying to rid himself of Army's current presence.
He turned around, limbs shaking furiously, before trying to stand. He stumbled, but managed to lean against the counter by himself. Army reached out to catch him in case he fell, but when Rider caught his balance and seemed to be fine, the octoling just crossed his arms. There was a long moment of silence before Army spoke again. "You're embarrassed again."
"Don't—" Rider snapped, being humbled by his nausea and quieting his voice for the sake of the others. "...Don't go assuming shit, okay? I just... got sick."
Army sighed and shook his head. "Did you have another nightmare?" He asked in a low voice, tilting his head subtly. The pity in his eyes were illuminated by the little hall light they had plugged in by the mirror, shining gently in his amber-orange gaze. Rider's face then softened as he reflected how he'd been acting toward Army. He was taking his frustration out on him. That wasn't right. Army was the one he was closest with, he could open up to him at least...
"Can we... take this to a more private place..?" Rider muttered with a little sigh. Army nodded, but held up a finger.
"Let me wipe off your face before we go," He murmured, turning around and opening the closet. Rider hopped up on the counter—with a bit of struggle from his dizziness—and let himself process everything.
None of it was real. It was just another flashback that plagued his mind. His heart was still beating out of his chest from the thought, but he'd calmed from his panic enough to think rationally. Clutching his chest with a shaky hand, he took a deep breath before staring off at Army.
"Hey," Rider muttered. Army perked up and turned around with a rag in hand, attentive to Rider's beckoning voice. The inkling lifted his chin. "How'd you know I was gonna puke? Even I didn't know that."
"Your body was convulsing under all of that heavy breathing you were doing," Army responded simply as he ran the rag under warm water in the sink. The octoling always spoke in facts, which Rider didn't find odd, but this quirk of his made conversation oddly... boring. Not that he didn't enjoy their boring talks, though.
The water shut off and snapped Rider out of his thoughts. Army turned to the inkling and lifted the rag to his face, brushing it across his chin as gently as he could. The roughness of the rag still sort of stung, but Rider appreciated Army's awareness of how sensitive the face can be. The warmth of it was uncomfortable in texture and temperature, but comfortable in sentiment; the latter outweighing the initial thought.
"...Thanks," Rider muttered rather sheepishly. Expressing gratitude wasn't exactly his forte.
"Say that again," Army murmured, his gaze fixed on Rider's lips. Rider gave him a weird look.
"I said tha—" His voice cut itself off after Army swiftly swept his finger across his bottom lip. Rider promptly covered his mouth with his wrist, but Army simply turned to the sink and washed his hands.
"You had some on your lip," Army stated after he turned the water off. Rider just let out a little tch sound, embarrassed by the fact that he'd gotten caught off guard again. He slid down from the counter as the octoling dried off his hands before the both of them locked their arms together and left the bathroom.
Aloha and Mask were sleeping peacefully together, with Aloha practically draped over the other. When Rider's gaze shifted to the other side of the bed, though, he found Skull to be sitting up, looking at the two silently. Then, Rider's mind thought about the whispering he'd heard during his migraine.
That's right. To get out of bed Army would have asked Skull to move. Rider's gaze softened as he gazed at Skull, which said more words than he could've told him. The two made it out of the bedroom and into the living room.
"It's cold." Rider didn't mean to voice his thoughts so suddenly, but it had practically come out without him meaning it to. Army let out a little noise that was akin to a sigh but closer to a hum.
"It is colder in here than it is in our room," He noted half to himself. Rider sat on the couch, but Army stayed standing for a minute. "Give me a second."
Rider just shrugged and curled up on the couch. Although it was colder, at least it was away from everyone. He loved all of his partners dearly, but opening up took time. He wasn't going to talk about his trauma in front of his partners like that; not out of nowhere. He needed time. He needed time that he didn't have—or at least, time that he didn't think he had. Time that—
A warm presence came over his back. The air around him smelled of Army, but the octoling wasn't in his field of vision. Wrapping it over him by pulling either side closer to his chest, he realized it was Army's parka. The fur of it wrapped around the back of Rider's neck like a travel pillow. He no longer felt anxious, and he hadn't noticed it until then, but his heart didn't feel like it was beating out of his chest anymore. He let out a satisfied noise from his nose as Army sat down next to him.
"Is that better?" Army asked, "It isn't the warmest, considering it was from the rack by the window, but—"
"It's good." Rider's interruption was sudden, but he looked over at Army fondly. "Thanks."
Army gave a small compassionate smile before turning his head away and thinking for a moment. "What's been troubling you, Rider..?" He asked hesitantly, keeping his head facing forward to reduce the question's pressure.
It was silent for a moment. Rider took a deep breath. You can open up.
"I had a mission. Underground, where you used to live," Rider began, "Have you heard of the Deepsea Metro?"
Army nodded, looking intently at Rider now.
"I was there to look for Goggles' team," Rider continued, obscuring the fact that he was looking for them out of worry. "Pearl and Marina had gotten a hold of me because Cap'n Cuttlefish had told them to, and so I looked for them. It wasn't hard to find them at all, with how noisy they are—" This earned a subtle chuckle from Army, "—and I pretty much saved their lives."
"What did you save them from?" Army asked, incredibly invested in Rider's recollection. Rider then realized that Army had no idea what was going on. His family was probably still living down there, which meant there was a good chance they were...
"Ah, I didn't really save 'em. Nothing dangerous was down there," He lied. It wasn't morally correct to do so, but if Army the overthinker caught wind of the fact that the octolings were being tricked and killed and put through tests, he'd assume the worst. And Rider really didn't want to break the news to him then. "But, uh, I..."
Rider lost his train of thought, and with the memory getting closer and closer to the part he dreaded remembering in detail, things got fuzzy from repressed memories. Army tilted his head, but stayed silent as if he were prompting Rider to continue. "...I don't remember much, but... something... foreign took control of my mind. I couldn't do a thing. I couldn't..."
Rider's voice trailed off as he began getting caught in a daze once again. Whispers, familiar whispers, danced around in his head. Where was he again? Oh, his head began hurting. Hammering.
He was stuck in a state of dissociation, and didn't even realize it until Army held his rotten head with a gentle hand. He didn't deserve such care.
"You don't have to explain further," Army murmured, his gaze fixated on Rider's scar. He brushed a gentle hand across it, which sent a shiver down the inkling's spine. As soon as their eyes met, though, Army had his usual internal panic and got flustered, which actually somewhat worked at cheering Rider up. He gently took Army's wrist and lowered his hand from his face before looking down at it, giving it a quick little peck, and letting go. Wow. They both were awful at romance.
But Rider's headache lessened and his eyelids were heavy now that the exhaustion was settling in. With Army, he was finally at peace. All in their little living room, the octoling held a secret so sensitive safe in his pocket, and his hearts on his sleeve. Rider let out a little content sigh. His chest felt lighter.
"Can we just, like, crash here on the couch?" He muttered with a little smile, blinking slowly. Army seemed to swallow a lump in his throat before returning Rider's smile.
"Our partners are going to give us a hard time for it, you know."
"Ah, what the hell," Rider sighed dismissively, rolling his eyes in a playful manner. "They can suck it up, I don't care."
Army snickered at this before leaning back until the back of his head rested on the armrest of the couch. Rider took this as an invitation, and though his stomach swirled from the thought of initiating affection, he laid his head on Army's chest, parka draped over him like a blanket. Army still wasn't very experienced with affection either, but he showed that he appreciated it by resting a sheepish hand on the top of Rider's head. There, the two finally seemed to finally begin to rest at last, their minds soon retreating to a place where no bad thoughts—or thoughts at all—could occur.
Rider was safe.