Chapter Text
“Nix, honey, can you fetch me antiseptic spray and some plasters or gauze?” you yelled after coming back to your shared flat.
Alarmed, Nix showed up next to your side in mere seconds.
“What happened?” he asked anxiously. Then he saw your hands and forearms covered in blood mixed with dirt. His eyes darkened. “Who did this to you?”
You shook your head.
“I fell. By myself. When getting off the bus. Thought the ground was closer than it really was. Nix, please? I don’t want to smear blood everywhere,” you urged him to hurry.
“Yes, of course, sorry. Give me a minute.”
You nodded while he hurried off to find something for your injuries.
When he came back, he sat you on the couch. You protested. After all, you could dress your wounds yourself. And you knew Nix had been busy recently, so you didn’t want to take more of his time.
“Shush. Let me take care of you.”
He wouldn’t have it any other way, so you finally let him.
You’d used that spray before on shallow cuts and scratches, and it hadn’t stringed then, but now… Now you felt like your skin was on fire. Or rather, the places your skin was actually missing were on fire. The injuries were deeper than you’d expected. In a few spots, there were concave parts, chunks of your flesh simply gone. Knuckles were particularly badly affected.
Involuntarily, you hissed and tried to take your hand away, but Nix’s grip around your wrist tightened, holding it in place. He squeezed harder with each hiss and whimper to the point of actually causing you pain.
“Nix, you’re hurting me.”
“Not more than you’ve already hurt yourself.”
“I’m serious. Please…” Your voice was weak and teary. That seemed to snap him out of whatever daze he was in. Metal fingers finally loosened around your wrist.
“I’m sorry, baby. I just―” He gently caressed your skin, careful to avoid touching any injuries, lest he caused you any more pain. “I hate you got hurt and I wasn’t there to protect you.”
“From myself?”
“If needed.”
You chuckled, sure he was only joking. But his face remained serious. Still, you didn’t think much of it. It’s not like he could prevent your fall. Knowing your luck, even if he tried, you’d both be on the ground with injuries, so it’s good it was only you.
“What about your knees?” Nix asked, when he finished with dressings on your arms.
You hadn’t torn your trousers while falling, so you didn’t even think about checking if you’re injured somewhere else.
“I don’t know.”
Without a word, he lifted the legs of your pants just above the knees. It wasn’t bad. Just a few scratches and some reddened spots that would probably bruise soon. Nix’s lips formed a thin line though.
Healing your injuries proved sort of difficult. When covered with plasters, they wouldn’t close properly, still oozing. When exposed, it was hard to keep them clean, so they’d close with ugly yellowish scabs and become irritated. At least there wasn’t any pus then. You softened the scabs with water, ripped them off and hoped the wounds would close better next time. It kinda worked. But it was a painful, tedious and sometimes bloody process. Especially since you needed to do it when Nix wouldn’t notice. He would stop you otherwise.
He became a bit overprotective, looming above you whenever he got the chance. You couldn’t cut anything in the kitchen. Hell, he wouldn’t even let you stand near a turned on stove. And sure, your grip was weaker than usual and your fingers weren’t as mobile, but you could still do things! He’d stay close when you two left the flat, and become grumpy if you did that on your own. When you’d bump into furniture, he rubbed the affected spot to ease your pain, but oftentimes there was no pain to ease. You were so used to collisions, you hardly noticed these light incidents.
At first, you didn’t mind all this extra attention, maybe even found it a bit endearing. But it just didn’t stop; it got worse with time. Everything could be proven dangerous. It became stifling. Somehow, Nix hadn’t babyproofed the flat yet, but at this point, it could be only a matter of time. He was growing increasingly frustrated. Not with you. With himself. Like it was his personal failing you were getting hurt in any way.
“Ouch.” You were sewing the loosened button of your favourite shirt and stabbed yourself with a needle.
Nix heard that. Of course he did. His brows furrowed. He sat next to you and grabbed your hand to check for blood. A drop of it slowly formed on your finger.
“Leave that. I’ll buy you a new one,” he’d said, before putting your finger in his mouth to suck off the blood.
You’re so baffled by his words, you barely registered his actions.
“You’re not buying me a whole new shirt because of a button. A loosened one on top of that, not even a missing one.” You didn’t care that he could easily afford that. It was wasteful. And you liked the shirt. And you weren't sure he could even get the exact same one any more.
“You’re hurting yourself again,” he mumbled, your finger still in his mouth. It finally dawned on you, so you took it out and he didn’t stop you. He still held your hand to prevent you from sewing.
“And you’re being unreasonable. It’s just a little prick. It happens all the time. Will you stop me from getting any blood work done, too? The needle is bigger.”
Nix’s brows furrowed deeper as if he was seriously considering fighting with any doctor who would order such a thing. Then he sighed.
“No, but this still isn’t necessary.”
This time, you sighed. Sure, it wasn’t absolutely necessary. You didn’t need this shirt right now or anything like that. And you didn’t want to argue.
“Fine. I’ll stop. But you’re not buying me anything.”
You’d just have to take care of the button when Nix wasn’t home.
The list of stuff you were doing that you needed to hide from Nix only grew bigger. You were telling yourself things would eventually get better when the wounds from your fall would finally heal. When there wouldn’t be any visual remainder left. You were, however, mistaken. After a few weeks, there was hardly any sign of your injuries left, yet nothing else really changed.
Nix’s constant presence was overwhelming, almost suffocating. Your only moments of solace were in the bathroom. Your showers’d been slowly taking longer and longer just so you could be alone a few more minutes without any surveillance.
Until one day you slipped. Your body hit the shower base, causing a loud ruckus of various bottles falling alongside you. One hit you straight across the forehead. You lied there for a while, half in a daze, half checking each body part to see if it was affected in any way. You seemed unharmed.
Strong arms dragged you from the shower onto the bathroom floor. Nix’s worry was painfully obvious on his face.
“Are you alright? Have you hit your head?” His hands cupped your face, his eyes scanning you for any sign of injuries.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? How many fingers do you see?”
“Three. Nix, really, I’m fine.”
“You could’ve cracked your skull open and if I wasn’t home―”
“But I didn’t. What? Now you’ll have to watch me each time I’m showering?” You rolled your eyes. When he didn’t answer immediately, you shook your head. “You seriously can’t be considering this. You can’t!”
“I just want to make sure you’re safe. I want to protect you…”
“I don’t want your fucking protection!” You abruptly stood up, grabbed a towel and stormed out of the bathroom, wrapping the cloth around your body. This was ridiculous! Ludicrous! Absolutely unfathomable!
Nix didn’t follow you at first. He let you simmer in your anger for a long while. And you were seething. His stupid idea of protection was more one of absolute control. It was overbearing. It was restraining. You weren’t a child that didn’t know fire could burn them. You were a grown ass adult! Perfectly capable of making your own choices and suffering the consequences of your actions. Sure, some were painful and they hurt, but that’s just life for you.
You sat on the bed, your back turned to the bedroom door. You brought your knees to your chest and hugged them. Water was still dripping on your bare shoulders. But you didn’t feel like getting dressed or drying your hair. Frankly, you didn’t feel much besides bubbling fury. Was all this unreasonable behaviour truly because of that one unfortunate fall?
“Are you ready to talk without screaming?”
“No. Go away,” you muttered, stubbornly not turning around to face him. Your voice was weaker than you’d like to, but at least you didn’t scream. Not yet, anyway.
He didn’t listen. You felt the mattress shifting under his weight when he also sat on the bed.
“I want you to be safe.”
“You want to put me in a cage!”
“No, knowing you, you’d hurt yourself with the bars somehow.”
“Do you hear yourself? Do you hear what you’re saying? You’d put me in a cage if that meant I won’t get hurt! How can you expect me to live like that?”
“Safely.”
You groaned. The conversation was going nowhere. You weren’t getting your point across.
“I refuse.” It was the first time you firmly disagreed with Nix on this subject. And you weren’t backing down now. “You have no right to control my life like that.”
“I’m protecting you. You can be mad at me all you want, but I’m doing all this for you. I’m sure in time you’ll understand.” He left you alone after that. Like one would leave a child to think about their bad behaviour. Something inside you finally snapped.
You wanted to scream. Wanted to hit him. Wanted to throw something. Instead, you quietly started packing. You couldn’t stay here. You couldn’t live like this.
And right now you couldn’t really think of any other solution than to just leave. To remove yourself from the situation, then you could ponder over your next steps. But firstly, you needed your agency back and clearly you couldn’t have that while still living with Nix.