Chapter Text
It was the darkest hour of night when I had awakened. Lightning cracked from the window and jolted me from my otherwise decent rest. I had no visuals from the thick darkness of the room, where the light refused to illuminate it.
The steps of presumably Usher had startled me. He had been audibly pacing in the hallways to and fro, without an obvious reason. I got up from the firm mattress, and removed the thin blanket which had done nothing to combat the dreadful cold. My feet touched the frigid floor as I left the bed.
I stepped towards the door, bumping into it which caused the walking to halt. My hand pressed against the door before I eventually found and gripped the knob, twisting it open. As I anticipated, Usher stood there, a candle exposing himself to me. He was the only source of light in perhaps the whole household.
“Mathias,” he wheezed, his vacant hand grabbing onto the collar of my button up. I was startled by his sudden action, and tried to back up from him. He stared at me with affright eyes. I couldn’t have possibly known what to do, or why he acted like this without warning. He repeated my name again, the desperation increasing greatly.
“What? What could it possibly be?” said I, entirely put off by the behavior Usher had shown. He appeared mad to me, even more than how he was ordinarily. It came out in my voice—appearing horrified by him, or merely his presence.
“Mmmathias, I-I.. Ssshe—The storm!” The neurotic in front of me had his weak hands tight onto my collar, needing urgent reassurance. I stood there, clueless. Usher required my assistance, but how could I possibly help him? He would be worrying about it for eternity regardless. Nonetheless, it would be witless to not even attempt.
I gingerly removed his fingers from my shirt, and held his own cold hand in mine. I pulled him along and ushered him to the couch, carefully avoiding the objects upon the ground which hadn’t been touched since my arrival. Usher watched me, eyes on every move I made. I removed the candlestick from his hand and placed it onto the side table.
Once I had eventually finished this preparation, I sat by my friend’s side. For some queer reason, I felt as if I couldn't speak, as if his glare alone pierced the cords lying in my throat. His skeletal hands went over his equally macilent face, and scratched at whatever flesh was left. I grabbed his hands and pulled them off his head, preventing further mutilation of himself. Usher’s hands then rested calmly in my own, and for what I think may be the first time, he seemed content. Not an interval of mania, no, genuine satisfaction.
This moment would not last very long, for he would soon go back to his regular state, yet it felt ethereal seeing a small smile on the hypochondriac’s face for even a millisecond. It was surreal, after so long of watching him in a near constant unfixed state, he was at peace for a mere moment.
I am getting ahead of myself. That is not the purpose of this.
Usher grasped my hands, with a rush of heat dashing throughout my figure. He was mumbling stuff, and his eyes darted around what little of the room we could see. He soon spoke up, not facing me at all.
“This household was not built with weather in mind, it could fall effortlessly. A single piece out of place could annihilate us!” Usher exclaimed, moving closer to me as if he sought something of me. My consolation, I would think.
I struggled to get my own words out, but managed to with force. “This house has been here for eternity, I don’t think it’ll collapse at possibly the hundredth storm it has encountered.” My voice had never faltered, why was it now? His curse had possibly been affecting me. I have heard things I knew had not been real; I have seen things I knew were just an illusion. I was healthy up until this point, how did this happen?
Usher nodded at this, whispering something to himself. His hands softened. He still had something on his mind, I could see just by how he still couldn’t make eye contact, and the way he held my hands. His eyes had been looking over at a particular place, like they shot through the walls to where his sister was located. I knew it. He didn’t want to say it. Undoubtedly, Roderick was missing Madeline.
Usher leaned in closer to me, before directly hugging me and burying his face into my shoulder. My button-up was soon stained with tears from him, while he rambled nonsense into my shirt. I held him in my arms, without proper knowledge on how to aid him. His precipitous sorrow confused me, but that did not matter. What mattered right now was him.
“Speak up, Rod,” I requested, moving back a bit as if to give him breathing room. His nails dug into my back, not quite roughly from his frail state, but still somewhat painful. Usher breathed, in and out.
“I’m an atrocious brother, and person,” was all he said, before breaking out into another sob. I could only think of dismissing his claim.
“Shhh, none of that,” I replied, a hand running through his delicate hair, as I gave him a look of sympathy. It was saddening to see Usher in a foreign state to both of us, but this should all pass over soon. Surely, it will.
Usher spoke an inaudible rebuttal, which only led to more crying from the man. He scratched continuously with his fingernails, though while kept in check by his habit of gnawing on them, wore the fabric down regardless, but not in any significant way.
Right when I had forgotten the storm, a rumble shook the house. Usher jumped and would’ve fallen onto his back if he hadn’t clung to me. He quivered as his gaze bounced around the room. Usher loosened the hold on me, as if he had realized nothing happened. It was just thunder, what was there to be scared of?
I laughed quietly, and he did too, before being startled by something imaginary. Usher was back in his paranoid state. I held his shivering face with a hand, telling him yet again there was nothing at all to be worried about.
Whenever I thought Roderick would be alright for a solid second, he had returned to normal like nothing happened. How could I possibly help him, a man so static? At this point, I believe comforting him would not result in anything. I’d have to do more.
I tenderly placed a kiss on Usher’s forehead and reminded him numerous times that everything would be fine. It was not his fault for anything. Reassuring did get tiring, but a glimpse of seeing him happy was worth it all, truly. Roderick glanced up at me, tears still streaming from his eyes. His scratching had abruptly stopped, but his hold got tighter.
Usher quieted down, a smile quickly forming on his lips. He squeezed me, which felt uncomfortable. He pressed himself against me—which had made me realize just how cold the man in front of me was. Any person could think it was anemia, which he probably has.
Usher thanked me in a whisper, nuzzling into my collarbone. He was so silent and serene in this moment that I nearly doubted who I was with. I held Roderick closely against me, smiling. It was possibly the most peaceful moment to happen during my stay. Maybe if ever in this house.