Archive of Our Own

The first time is when a glass cup slips from his fingers as he moves to fill it for the scientist leering at him from across the room. He feels his breath catch in his throat as he watches, as if in slow motion, the glass fall to the floor, shattering dramatically. He can do nothing but stare at the destruction for a long moment before an annoyed sound from the other occupant makes his head snap up.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ll clean it up, I promise!” He scrambles to do so, immediately crumpling next to the pile, feeling some smaller shards stick into his knees painfully.

“You better. And hurry it up! I’m thirsty, remember?” The man sneers, watching him with obvious disgust.

As Ahkmenrah sweeps the glass shards into his palm, he winces, biting back a hiss when a piece slices through his skin. The pain is minimal compared to what he’s used to the scientists bestowing, but he nonetheless finds himself entranced by the cut. 

Blood.

He’s bleeding.

Ahkmenrah wasn’t aware he could do that anymore. He was, after all, technically dead. But there was the evidence, warm and dark against his skin, staining his palm.

“What’s taking so long!?” He shakes himself out of his thoughts, heart hammering as he continues cleaning his mess.

oO0Oo

The incident remains in the back of his mind for years, more pressing problems requiring his immediate attention. It isn’t until he’s freed from that dreadful coffin that he gets a moment to really consider the fact that he can bleed. It fascinates him, in a way. And suddenly, he wants—no, needs to—see it again.

He steals away to the space wing. With only model planets and a galaxy mural, there’s nothing there to come alive at night and isn’t visited often, if at all, by anyone else in the museum, leaving him blissfully alone. 

He wedges himself into a corner where he won’t be seen from the hallway, before stilling, listening to the ensuing silence. He kept his mouth cracked open, breath caught in his throat but heard no one nearby. His shoulders slumped in relief, and he reached in his belt for the boxcutter he’d stolen from Larry’s office. Admittedly, taking the blade had left him with a queasy feeling in his gut, but he staunched the guilt with the reassurance that he’d have the knife cleaned and returned in a couple of hours. Larry would never even know it had been gone.

Legs folded under him, he set the boxcutter to the side and worked to remove the gold band on his left wrist, easily unclasping it and sliding it off. He laid it gently on the floor before reclaiming the boxcutter. Then, he hesitated for a moment. Should he really be doing this? It’s not like it would leave a lasting mark, the tablet would restore him and he’d wake up tomorrow night brand new. It would be hidden by his bracelet until then, and no one would ever know.

Not giving himself a chance to talk himself out of it, he lightly pressed the blade to the tender skin of his wrist and made a quick, shallow slit, a couple of inches long, down his wrist, before pulling the blade away. 

He did it. 

He watched, mesmerized, as the scarlet liquid rose to the surface of the new wound, dripping down his wrist. He shivered at the sensation, ignoring the insignificant twinge of pain. 

He was bleeding.

He felt a small smile steal across his face, before making another tiny cut, parallel to the first. That one bled too. 

He felt almost giddy as he made five more small cuts, never going too deep, loving the euphoria it gave him. How could hurting himself feel so good? So relieving? He could feel the stress leave his muscles as he settled against the wall behind him, still grinning. 

oO0Oo

Ahkmenrah panted, gasping for air as he ran down the empty corridor, a stolen pocket knife clenched in his right hand as he made his way to the astronomy room. There hadn’t been time to scope out Larry’s office and steal a boxcutter or something similar, but he’d been able to find the small pocket knife on the front desk when he’d swept by, grabbing it without anyone around the wiser. Part of him thought he should feel bad that he was getting so good at stealing undetected. A larger part of him didn’t care.

He ducked into his sanctuary, sucking in a breath and holding it, despite his trembling, as he listened frantically for footsteps. He gasped out the air once he was sure no one was nearby, slinking over to his corner and collapsing, before clawing desperately at his bracelet. 

He needed it. Needed that relief. Needed it now .

Everything had been fine. The night had been going well, he got along with all of the other exhibits now. The Civil War figures had an interesting game of hide-and-seek going, which he’d watched with amusement. Right up until one of the hiders accidentally rammed into him, sending him backward towards a closet door some other exhibit had propped open while getting supplies earlier that night. He tripped over the bucket holding it open, falling hard on his rump on the closet floor. Even then, he’d been fine. But then the bucket rolled slightly away from the force of the door, and it swung shut on him. Suddenly he was back in that awful sarcophagus, unable to breathe or move. He gasped for air, eyes involuntarily tearing up as the darkness seemed to close in on him.

No. He was okay. He was okay. He was okay. He wasn’t locked back up. Not again. Larry had said never again. 

Then, as quickly as it started, it was over. The door opened, light from the museum spilling in, and he blinked up through tears at one of the figures. It stood in the doorway for a moment, waiting for him to come out. He scrambled to his feet, forcing the pharaoh mask into place and wiping hastily at his eyes. As he stepped out of his prison— he hadn’t even tried the door. Stupid, stupid, stupid —the figurine that freed him as well as a couple of others standing nearby clapped him on the back as congratulations for his “hiding spot” and sympathy that he’d been found so early in the game. He managed a weak smile, even though he was pretty sure his legs were shaking.

“Ahk?” His head snapped up at the call, fists clenching at his sides, palling as he saw Larry and Teddy walking over, both looking concerned. He quickly schooled his features, giving what he hoped was a much more convincing smile.

“Hey, Man, you okay?” Larry asked as they came to stand next to him, the Civil War figures moving off in search of their friends.

“Of course,” Ahk replied, praying to Ra that his mask wouldn’t slip. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, my dear boy, we saw you come out of the closet just now. We’re simply curious why you were in there?” Teddy did sound genuinely curious, but he also sounded genuinely concerned, though he hid it well.

Ahk shrugged his shoulders with a small chuckle. “Was in there by mistake, tripped is all. No harm done.” He began to walk away from them, though every cell in his body screamed at him to run. 

“If you’ll excuse me.” 

He continued walking out of the room and made his way to the main hall, the shortest route to the space exhibit. He smiled, waved, and laughed. Did everything perfectly.

The second he turned the last corner, away from prying eyes, he ran.

The memory spun through his mind like a whirlwind. He could still feel his heart hammering in his chest after being locked in again and turned his attention back to his now exposed arm. Hunched in on himself in this familiar corner, memories—of screaming, begging, pounding, sobbing for help, for anyone to save him—holding him firmly in their clutches, he held the blade to his wrist and cut without hesitance. This time was deeper and longer than the times before, but not so long that the wound wouldn’t be covered. 

It was hard to breathe, to get air into his absent lungs. He gasped like a fish out of water, pathetically curled in the corner like a child. His chest was closed up and tight, and he was surprised he was able to hold the knife steady with how hard he was shaking. Again and again, he carved into his skin, not knowing when the tears started falling, nor caring. He shuddered as relief hit him and that terrible, chest-crushing feeling that had been enveloping him started to fade. Seeping away along with his blood. 

Blood that was coming dangerously close to dripping on his clothes, or worse, the museum floor. 

He bit out a curse in Egyptian as he dropped the knife in favor of grabbing at his wrist, pressing hard on the cuts to stem the flow of warm blood. He shuddered, slumping against the wall, eyes closing. His breaths were still shaky, but not like before. He was okay, everything was fine. 

After a while, he pulled himself together. When he lifted his right hand from his left wrist, both parts were stained with blood, though the sluggish bleeding appeared to have stemmed. He quickly took himself, his wristband, and his knife to a nearby bathroom. In short order, he had cleaned up the blood and reclasped the bracelet. He stood in front of the mirror, looking himself over. Frowning, he activated the sink and scrubbed his face with the cold water, letting it wash away any evidence of his breakdown. When he patted his face dry with the paper towels, he again took in his reflection.

Better.

He straightened, fixing his clothing as he swept out of the bathroom, blade tucked safely away in his waistband. The knife had been lost in the museum earlier, hence its spot on the front desk. He couldn’t risk replacing it and someone catching him and finding out what he had done. Besides, no one would miss it. It was his now. His very own knife. He grinned at the thought. Now he wouldn’t have to steal knives from Larry. No more nagging guilt!

But his smile fell as he thought. He needed somewhere to hide it. It couldn’t be anywhere in his exhibit, he couldn’t risk someone linking it, and it’s theft, to him. But where?

He scanned his surroundings thoughtfully before grinning as an idea hit him. Next to the space room was an exhibit about the weather. An old electronic game sat snuggly against one wall, and if he pulled it out…

Bingo!

As he thought, the back was all open wire connecting the game to the wall. Not very kid-friendly if he thought about it. He tucked the knife in a pocket at the bottom of the wall, making sure it wouldn’t be touching any wires. He didn’t know much about electrical fires, but didn’t want to risk accidentally burning down his home and killing his friends. Blade secure, he grunted as he dragged the game back, making sure it matched its indents on the carpet. Perfect.

Smiling, he started making his way back to his exhibit just as Larry announced the half-hour call to sunrise. Ahkmenrah quickly wove through the other exhibits, making it to his own in a matter of minutes. He slowed slightly as he saw Larry waiting for him, remembering their earlier interaction. His heart began to race as he wondered if Larry somehow, despite how painstakingly careful he was, knew . As he approached, Larry sent him a worried smile paired with concerned blue eyes.

“Hey, Ahk. You doing okay after earlier? Left kinda sudden on us, Teddy and I couldn’t find you.”

“I assure you, Guardian of Brooklyn, I’m fine. Just wanted to take a walk around the museum is all.” He lied effortlessly, and pretty convincingly if he said so himself.

“You’re sure?” Larry still looked worried, giving him a once over.

Ahkmenrah felt like the other man could see right through him. See the cuts that adorned his wrists. The cuts that ached from his gold bracelet rubbing against them.

“Yes. I assure you, Larry. I’m perfectly fine.”

oO0Oo

Ahkmenrah smiled as relief swept through him, stress easing from his shoulders. He made another careful cut, smaller than the others, watching as the warm blood welled up. He’d noticed that, despite the tablet’s magic healing the wounds, he had started to get light, barely-there scars. Luckily his wrist guard hid them from the world, though even if they weren’t hidden he doubted anyone would notice if it weren’t for how many there were. He settled against the wall, allowing his breathing to even out. He’d done this dozens of times now, craving the peaceful lull that came over him after each session with his knife. It was nice, being able to take care of himself, handling his demons without burdening any of the others. It made him feel independent, not like the teen the others saw, but like the pharaoh who once ruled Egypt.

“Ahk?”

He jerked forward, gasping as his heart pounded hard in his chest like it was trying to beat its way out. He could feel himself start trembling as he stared, wide-eyed, at a surprised Larry. 

The older man watched him from the exhibit’s doorway, brows furrowed with confusion before the expression morphed into horror and painful recognition.

“ Ahk. ” This time, Larry’s tone was mortified. And it was all his fault.

Any prior feelings of independence fled as Larry took a step towards him, right hand reaching out for him despite still being several feet away. Ahk jumped in his spot, nerves shot after being snuck up on, immediately scrambling back, silently cursing himself when his back hit the wall behind him. He was cornered. He’d trapped himself. He felt tears well in his eyes, unbidden, and wiped furiously at his face with his left hand, ignoring the warm blood that ran down his arm at the motion. His right hand still clutched his knife in a white-knuckled grip as he curled in on himself.

…stupid, stupid, stupid…

“Easy, Bud. Take it easy.” Larry’s gentle voice broke him out of his thoughts. “I’m not going to hurt you, Ahk. It’s alright. Do you know where you are?”

Ahk managed a nod, frozen in place. His eyes remained on Larry’s hands, held in front of the man, palms out.

“Do you know who I am?”

Another nod.

“You know I won’t hurt you, right?”

His nod was sharp and sure, gaze flicking up to meet Larry’s eyes for a brief moment, before resuming watching the other man’s hands. It was a nervous habit he’d developed in Cambridge that he had yet to break.

“Can I come closer?”

Ahk hesitated. Did he want him to? He knew Larry wasn’t going to leave him alone now, now that he knew. He had to talk about it sooner or later. Maybe Larry wouldn’t even care? Once Ahk explained how it didn’t hurt, how it eased the tension in his chest, how he enjoyed it. 

The teenager managed a small shrug, gaze flicking to the floor. He heard Larry come slowly closer and remembered the knife still clenched in his fist. With practiced ease, he closed it with his right hand, before setting it reverently on the ground beside him. He heard Larry let out a relieved breath of air as the guard continued his approach.

In a few seconds, though they felt like hours to the trembling pharaoh, Larry was crouched in front of him, warm gaze flicking over his body. Ahk couldn’t hide the flinch once faced with his intense stare, and stiffened when Larry reached for his arm.

“Ahk, I…may I?” He asked, with a voice so achingly gentle that the pharaoh couldn’t hold back the single tear that raced down his cheek. He swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head away from the other man. He flinches when careful fingers grasp his wrist, but doesn’t pull away as his arm is lifted and inspected.

After a long moment, he feels Larry release the appendage, automatically bringing his injured arm protectively to his chest, eyes still closed and breath shaky. There’s a shift of fabric as Larry moves.

“C’mon.” There was that kind tone again, the same one Larry used whenever Nick was upset. Part of him internally rebelled at being treated like a child, but another part of him craved the gentle concern and care. He opened his eyes to see Larry on his feet, Ahk’s bracelet loosely held in his left hand while his right reached down to help him stand.

For a second, all he can do is blink at the other man, before grasping Larry’s right hand with his left, allowing the night guard to carefully pull him to his feet. He doesn’t understand why he sways once he’s upright, emotions in turmoil, but Larry wraps a comforting arm around his shoulders to steady him, steering him to the nearby bathroom.

Ahkmenrah can’t make himself relax, stiff against Larry’s side as he waits to be berated or mocked, but the older man stays silent. He takes him into the washroom, setting his bracelet on the counter before reaching again for the pharaoh’s left wrist and guiding it under a stream of automatically cold water. Ahk flinches at the temperature but doesn’t pull away.

Larry murmurs an apology, and with tender hands washes the blood off his arm. Ahk remains frozen, unsure of what to do. He could pull away and clean himself up, he’d done it dozens of times before, but he doesn’t want to accidentally make Larry mad. He’d likely be in enough trouble as it was. So he stays quiet and still, watching with the same fascination he’d had with his own blood, as Larry takes care of him. 

After thoroughly wiping his arm down, Larry moved them away from the sink, quickly drying his own hands with paper towels before dabbing gently at Ahk’s wrist. Once the pharaoh’s arm is dry Larry brings his wrist closer, once again examining the ruined skin now that it isn’t covered in blood. Ahk felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart rate speed up at the scrutiny, tensing slightly. As much as he wanted to pull away from the examination, he allowed Larry to look, to see what he’d done to himself. He felt shame color his cheeks at the thought.

“Ahk…” His name is a whoosh of air past the guard's lips. Larry sounds like he doesn’t know what to do with him. He’s disappointed in you. He expected better. You really are just a stupid kid.

“Ahk, look at me.” Larry’s kind voice breaks him from his spiraling, and he looks up at the guard through his lashes.

“I’m not mad, Ahk. Really. I’m just…” Larry runs a frustrated hand through his hair before glancing down at his watch.

“ 2:45” He murmurs, more to himself than to Ahk. He looks back up at the pharaoh.

“Will you come to my office to talk? Please?” The guard begs softly. Ahkmenrah knows he doesn’t really have much of a choice. If not tonight it will be tomorrow or the next night. And if not in Larry’s office, possibly the most private place in the museum when it has to be, then somewhere else where another exhibit is more likely to break in on their conversation.

He opens his mouth to respond, but his voice fails him, catching painfully in his throat. He swallows his poor attempt at speaking and nods instead, reaching for his bracelet. Larry automatically grasps his right wrist to stop him, and he flinches at the sudden movement.

At his flinch, Larry pulls back as if burned. “Sorry. I’m sorry, Ahk. It’s just…I don’t want you to aggravate those…” The night guard hesitates on a word. Ahkmenrah fills in the blank.

…mistakes, cuts, weaknesses, slashes…

“…marks.” Larry settles on, looking back at him. Ahk can feel his heartbeat speed up again. He opens his mouth, grateful that this time he’s able to manage coherent words.

“Please, Larry.” His voice sounds weak and timid and he hates it. “If people saw…I don’t know what they would think…Please let me cover them.” 

Larry hesitates, before sighing and nodding his reluctant acceptance.

Ahk quickly refastens the wrist guard.

“But only until we get to my office. Then I’m going to wrap those properly.” Larry warns, raising a finger at him. Ahk quickly nods his agreement, willing to go along with whatever the guard wants if Larry will just keep this between them.

They head to Larry’s office side-by-side, Larry making a quick detour back into the space exhibit to pocket Ahk’s knife. He feels the pain of the loss in his chest. That knife had helped him a lot over the past few weeks, almost like an old friend. He’d miss it.

Again, Ahk can’t seem to make himself relax as he and Larry silently walk down the corridors. They occasionally meet exhibits but don’t say more than a quick ‘hello’ before Larry ushers them off again.

Larry had said he wasn’t mad, but was he telling the truth? Was the guard silently irate, and decided to lull Ahkmenrah into a false sense of security before pulling the rug out from under him behind the closed door of his office? Was it all a lie? Was he really just like the scientists at Cambridge? No, Larry wasn’t anything like those monsters. He cared about them. But did he care about Ahkmenrah? Wasn’t the pharaoh just a nuisance? Wouldn’t it be easier to lock him up rather than deal with this?

His breath caught in his throat as they reached Larry’s office, the night guard guiding him in before closing the door behind them. As soon as Ahk hears the knob click back into place, he wheels around, gazing desperately at Larry, hands clasped in front of him.

“Please don’t lock me up again, Larry. Please. I’m sorry I was bad. I’m so sorry. And sorry you had to deal with me. And that I did it. I’m sorry for being a burden. I’ll do anything you want, just please don’t lock me up again. Please…” His voice trailed off as he looked at Larry, waiting like a murderer for a guilty verdict.

Larry’s gaze immediately softened, that same caring expression from earlier stealing over his face. “Hey, Ahk, look at me buddy.” Scared cerulean met calming azure. “I’m never letting you get locked in there again, okay? I meant what I said, you’re not going to be locked up. I’m not mad, I promise. I just…I don’t understand…” the night guard trailed off, eyes sad, before he gestured at the couch. Ahk stiffly moved to sit down at one end, feet flat, back ramrod straight, hands folded in his lap, as royalty should sit.

Larry returns to his side with his small red first aid kit, which he places on the cushion next to Ahk. “Can you take off the wrist guard please, Bud?” Ahk bit back his angry retort at Larry’s gentleness, knowing that if he didn’t feed the indignant fire he’d be overcome by tears. He wasn’t a child. Larry didn’t have to treat him like one. But you acted like one. Instead, he did as instructed, easily slipping the gold bracelet off and placing it on the side table next to him.

Larry slowly reached for his wrist, shifting his weight where he was crouched on the floor as he studied the pharaoh’s arm. If he notices the old scars, he doesn’t say anything, simply flips open the first aid kit and roots around a little, before extracting a small yellow tube.

“This is an antibiotic. It’ll clean the wounds to prevent infection and help them heal.” Ahk’s brow furrows as Larry squirts some onto his arm before gently rubbing the cool cream over the cuts. He feels himself relax, the cream taking away the slight sting and soothing his nerves. 

“You know that the tablet will heal me in the morning. There’s no need for any of this.” He asks, unable to hide his confusion.

“I know,” Larry says simply, standing to grab a paper towel to wipe his hands off. He comes back to kneel once again next to the pharaoh. “I’m not gonna let you bleed and hurt, Ahk. I care about you too much.” The gentle words surprise him more than Larry slapping him would have. His head snaps up to stare at the night guard, who remains focused on pulling out two cloth rolls from his kit. Turning back to the stunned pharaoh, Larry smiles sadly, before holding up the white roll.

“This is gauze. I’m going to wrap some around your wrist so that the bandages won’t irritate your wounds.” Ahkmenrah watches silently, still reeling over the older man’s words. After Larry has wrapped a few layers around his injured wrist, snipping the roll free with scissors, he holds up the other roll.

“These are bandages to protect it from your wrist guard and anything else until tomorrow night.” These too, are applied in several layers to his arm. After Larry tucks the bandage in securely, he turns back to his box of tricks and starts packing it away.

“Why?” Ahk can’t stop himself from asking, his voice nearly a whisper as he stares at his now bandaged wrist, held out in front of him like it belongs to someone else. It does feel better.

Larry glances up at him. “Why what?” His voice is still gentle, and he stands to set the first aid kit on his desk before claiming a seat next to Ahkmenrah, his caring presence settling the teen somehow.

“Why all this? Why are you being so nice to me? Taking care of me? Don’t you get it? I did this to myself. Me . I don’t deserve your care, I already got what I deserved. So why…” His voice cracks miserably over the last word as he trails off, looking desperately to Larry for answers.

“ Ahk. ” There’s that pained tone again. Ahk hates that tone. “You didn’t get what you deserved, Bud, not at all. You didn’t deserve to be locked up for so long, you didn’t deserve all the things those Cambridge scientists did–” Larry continues despite Ahkmenrah’s harsh flinch at the statement, “–you didn’t deserve to be screaming your lungs out every night, for decades, and you certainly don’t deserve to feel like you have to hurt yourself .”

“B-But it doesn’t hurt!” Ahkmenrah exclaims. “Not really. Just a small sting. It feels good , Larry. Like a-like a release.” At Larry’s inquisitive borderline concerned look, Ahk attempts to elaborate. “At first, I did it because I wanted to see if I bled, like a–” he swallowed hard, “–a normal, alive human would. But then it just felt so good that I did it again. When things were too much and everything was closing in, I’d cut myself and I’d feel better. My chest would stop hurting, my heart would slow down and I’d be able to breathe again. That’s why…” His voice trailed off as he caught the pained look on Larry’s face, ducking his head as he felt his cheeks heat. “…that’s why I did it so much.”

Larry’s silent for a long moment, and Ahk feels himself start to squirm under his stare, turning away again. He really was stupid. A stupid kid. Why did he think hurting himself was a good idea? It’s something a fool would do. Why…

“I’m sorry.” Larry’s soft-spoken words make his head snap up to look at him in stunned confusion.

“What?” He asks dumbly. Why should Larry be sorry? He chose to hurt himself, he’s the one who held the blade to his skin, not Larry.

“I’m sorry, Ahk,” Larry murmurs again earnestly. “I’m sorry that you resorted to hurting yourself to feel better. I’m sorry that you didn’t feel like you could come to me or one of the exhibits when things became too much. You shouldn’t have had to cut yourself. We’ve failed you a lot over the years, but I thought that we were doing better.” Larry bit out a sigh, it was his turn to study the floor in front of him. “I guess I was wrong.” He murmured, more to himself than to Ahk.

“But you aren’t!” Ahk quickly tries to comfort him. To make him stop blaming himself. “You are better. Things here are as good as they can be for me. I thought that life after death was a curse until you freed me, Larry. Now I actually have a chance to enjoy this gift I’ve been given. And I have you to thank for that.” Larry’s shaking his head and Ahk feels his brow furrow, confused about what he said wrong. Trying desperately to elaborate, he continues, “I didn’t want to burden you, or anyone else. None of you deserve to be inconvenienced after all you’ve done for me. Once I found out how–”… magnificent, wonderful, freeing… “–easy it was to cut and-and calm myself without any of your help, I couldn’t stop doing it.”

Larry’s gaze had risen to meet his again during his speech and now he shifts to fully face Ahk, reaching his hands out to him before stopping himself, clasping them in his lap instead.

“That’s what I’m talking about, Ahk. You shouldn’t feel like you’re a burden or an inconvenience. You’re not and you never will be to us. We love you, you’re a member of our family. If you’re struggling, we want to help in whatever way we can. You’re not alone anymore, Ahk. We’re going to do everything we can to protect you because you belong to us. You deserve to be safe and have people you can lean on, people you trust.”

Ahk feels his eyes well with tears, turning his head so Larry won’t see. He clenches his jaw, angry at himself for falling apart like a child. 

Larry could practically see all the stress and anxiety drowning the teen, emphasized by his sudden shaking and now hitching breaths. He watched as the pharaoh scrubbed angrily at his face in a desperate attempt to pull himself back together, breaking his heart.

“Ahk…Can I…Can I hug you?” Larry’s voice is tender and his hands stay in his lap until Ahk permits him to touch himandhecleanedhiswoundsandheisn’tmad and suddenly Ahk finds himself nodding. As soon as he does he’s enveloped in a warm hug, one of Larry’s hands cupping the nape of his neck while his other rubs up and down his back, lightly tracing his spine. Ahk squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that stubbornly well up, letting his chin come to rest on Larry’s shoulder and focusing on the other man’s soft words and gentle touches. He’s finally able to relax, settling against the night guard.

They stay like that for a long while, and Ahk feels his mind start to drift as his body grows heavier. He tries to stir but doesn’t seem to have the energy.

“Ahk?” Larry murmurs, hands stilling. He hums against the older man’s shoulder.

“It’s almost sunrise, Bud,” Larry whispers apologetically, squeezing his neck softly.

Ahk wants to groan and whine and stay there, half asleep against the night guard— safe . But he’s more mature than that, so instead he sighs softly and pulls away from Larry, unable to meet his eyes.

“Hey,” Larry’s voice is low as he uses one hand to tilt Ahk’s face to look at him. “I need you to promise me that you won’t cut, or hurt yourself in any way, again.”

Ahk studies his eyes for a long moment, flashes of memory comparing them to the cold, disgusted looks the Cambridge scientists would give him. Or worse, the ones filled with lust and evil intent. Larry’s gaze, however, is gentle and caring. Asking him to do this for his own good and no other reason, aside from possibly Larry’s worry.

As such, he nods. “I promise, I won’t do it again. I’m sorry.” 

Larry shakes his head, squeezing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Ahk. And if you ever feel that way again you can always come to me, okay? Or you can hide out in here if you think it’ll help. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know, alright?” 

Ahk can’t help the surprise on his face, nor his bright, hesitant smile at the offer.

“Alright.”

oO0Oo

Ahk nearly sobs, the helpless, dread overpowering his senses. He can’t move. The walls are closing in on him and he can’t move! All he can hear is laughter, their laughter. And their scorn and their mock and their ridicule. He can’t move and he can’t breathe and it’s all too much. He wants, so badly, to have a blade in his hands right now, to have a way of making all these feelings go away. But he promised that he wouldn’t cut. Why did he do that? He wasn’t sure anymore, but he did, and he wouldn’t break his promise. So he stays there, curled up in a deserted hallway, gasping for air that won’t go into his lungs, body shaking as his vision blurs. The only thing he can hear and feel is his heart pounding hard against his ribcage.

Suddenly, there’s something else: warmth and pressure. Touch.

No, no, no. Touch meant pain . It meant being still while their hands made his skin crawl. It meant helplessness. It meant submission.

He flinches away, trying to scramble back but he’s already pressed against the wall.

This time he does sob, gasping out the cry past his hyperventilating.

There’s noise, something besides the fast beating of his heart. A voice. 

His thoughts are scattered, unable to connect the touch and the voice. 

Please. Just leave him alone. Please.

Suddenly, warm hands are cupping his face, moving his head. He makes a wounded sound, but his body’s spasms make him too weak to pull away. Thumbs brush gently over his cheeks. No, not again. Not again. Please.

“…rah? Ahkmenrah? Ahk! C’mon, it’s me, Larry!…”

Larry?

“…ook at me, Buddy. Please. You’re okay. You’re safe…”

He was never safe. Never. 

Right?

“…Ahk, hey. It’s okay. I need you to breathe for me, alright? Deep breath in…”

Somehow, grounding himself using the gentle grip on his face, he gets air in past his lips.

“Good job,” Someone— Larry —immediately praises. “Now let it out. You’re okay.”

He breathes out, vision beginning to clear.

“Deep breath in.”

He does.

“Deep breath out.”

His heart starts slowing and he’s finally back in control of his breathing. It hitches occasionally, but he’s not struggling for air anymore, so he considers it a win.

“Ahk? You back with me, Man?”

He manages to nod, and the hands leave his face. He immediately feels the loss and doesn’t know what his expression does because suddenly they’re back.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, alright? I’m right here, not leaving. I’m not leaving.”

Ahk faintly registers that he’s still trembling. It’s like he’s outside his own body, numb to everything except the warmth from Larry’s hands. He closes his eyes, letting his head rest on the wall behind him as he continues to breathe, crown forgotten on the floor beside him.

“How are you feeling?”

Ahk licks his lips, and manages to rasp out, “Fine, thank you.”

He doesn’t see it, but he senses Larry rolling his eyes at him.

“You’re not fine, Ahk, and that’s okay. You ready to move yet?”

Ahk hesitates. He wants to do what Larry asks, but he doesn’t think he can stand yet. Blushing, he shakes his head slightly.

“Okay, that’s okay. We’ll just stay here for a bit, yeah?” And with that, Larry sits on the ground next to him, shoulders brushing as he settles.

Ahk stays curled in on himself, focusing his attention on his breathing and the warm line of Larry against his side. After a long few minutes, he finally trusts his voice enough to talk again.

“I’m sor–”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Larry replied firmly. “It’s not your fault if you have a panic attack, Ahk, and I’m not going to think any less of you for it.”

Ahk clenches his fists, wishing that the shaking that still plagued his body would go away. His breath shudders and hitches, and he can feel a tear thread silently down his cheek.

Traitor.

Larry’s hand lands softly on his wrist, thumb brushing in a soothing back-and-forth motion over his shouldn’t-be-there pulse. The action eases the tension in his frame, and he allows his hands to relax, nervously picking at the jewels on his wrist guards. He still wants to cut to a degree, but the urge is muted now, numb like the rest of him.

“I don’t know what happened.” He admits quietly, unable to meet Larry’s eyes. He burns holes into the floor instead as he continues, “One moment I was fine, the next everything was closing in and it was dark and I couldn’t breathe and it hurt and, and…” He doesn’t know what more he wants to say, if anything, but realizes he doesn’t have to as Larry shifts beside him, arm moving from his wrist to wrap around his shoulders.

“Ahk,” He begins softly. He pauses for a long moment—Ahk can’t bear to look at him—then, “Ahk, can I hug you?”

Ahk feels tears well in his eyes again at the gentle concern and because Larry asked and stayed with him and never forced him to do anything and Ahk nods, turning to hide his tears in Larry’s shoulder. 

His breath hitches again and Larry shushes him softly, murmuring soothing reassurances as he rubs his back and cradles his head. It feels like a tightness in Ahk’s chest that he hadn’t even noticed loosens, and he’s filled with the sudden urgency to tell Larry that he didn’t break his promise.

“I didn’t cut.” He murmurs against Larry’s shoulder. “I wanted to, and I almost did, but I stopped. You can check.”

Larry squeezes him against his chest, saying gently, “I believe you, Ahk. And I’m so proud of you. Just rest, okay? We’ve still got a few hours ‘till sunrise.”

Ahk settles, feeling content and warm and safe as Larry cards a hand through his hair while he drifts. 

“Thank you, Larry.”