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The scientist stared at the dish before him. The liquid in the bowl sitting stagnant as he brought up a claw to tap against the side. The inphernal next to him gave him a concerned look, nudging him gently with a shoulder.
“Sub? Everything ok?”
He drew his gaze back to Boombox, blinking slowly at him
before his face contorted into a scowl.
“I’m fine.”
The shorter studied his expression for a long while, those diligent eyes searching his face for something he’d never find. Subspace was a second away from opening his mouth when Boombox looked away, a gentle hum in his throat as he raised his spoon to his lips.
Boombox had wanted to try making something new for his partner, he knew he had his designated safe foods, but thought something a little different could be good for him. In all honesty, though, he’d been getting worried lately.
He noticed Subspace eating less and less whenever he came over, choosing to be the one to keep conversation whenever Boombox had his meals. He’d try to convince the other to have something during his visits, especially on nights like this when he’d be staying for a few days.
“Sorry for not makin’ something I knew you’d enjoy.” Boombox broke the silence as he tried to keep his gaze turned away from Subspace eyeing the bowl like it was an interrogation victim. The latter perked up, quickly looking over before turning his eye back down. He’d pick up the spoon in one hand, clattering it against the glass walls as he stirred it.
“It’s fine.”
He replied dryly, now holding his head in one hand rested atop his knee. Boombox frowned, setting his bowl down and leaning back against the couch. Something didn’t seem right. He’d draw his nails carefully over Subspace’s back, earning a pleased growl.
“You sure? I can always go make some other food for you.” He’d try, watching the way Subspace seemed to shudder against his touch. His shoulders jutted back involuntarily as if it were the only contact he’d ever been getting.
“I’m sure. You don’t need to keep asking.”
The scientist now looked down to the liquid with an unreadable expression, tapping his fingers against the table as if deciding on something.
After a long moment, he sighed, and took for bowl to his lips, letting the spoon fall out as he lifted it. He threw it back with his head, quickly downing the contents as like a starved animal, forcing it down despite his body’s attempts to force it back. With a cough, he turned to Boombox, raising a brow.
“No use. I’ve already had mine.”
Boombox couldn’t help himself but giggle, watching the other man so hungrily swallow down an entire bowls worth of food in a matter of seconds.
“You’re weird.” Boombox commented with a wide grin.
“Well- you’re obtuse!” Subspace retorted.
“Heyyyyy!”
-
Subspace laid silently, arms crossed over his midsection as Boombox snored beside him. His gut felt a constant ache, that pained him whenever he tried to move. It made him want to gag, having to hold a hand over his mouth and breathe deeply through his nose.
He shouldn’t have eaten that damn soup.
Claws dug into the good side of his cheek, eye narrowing as the bile began to rise in his throat.
He’d quickly throw back the covers, feeling his way through the darkness and against the wall. Subspace barely registered the posters he’d been knocking off their pins, as his gut felt like someone was trying to rip his stomach open from the inside.
He’d barely make it to the bathroom and turn on the lights before the remnants of his supper came back out from his mouth. He’d managed to preserve what little dignity he had by clutching the trash can instead of vomiting onto the tiled floor. He nearly wanted to scream. Pain shot through his jaw as the rotted flesh of his mouth was scraped by the bile. His body was betraying him, his open flesh squealed in pain, yet there was nothing he could do about it. His throat stung from the sudden force, and he was sure if he could taste, it surely would’ve made him gag.
He coughed, gasping for air only momentarily before a second wave of his stomach’s contents forced its way past his lips. He didn’t dare to check, but from the sudden stinging pain, he was sure it was almost entirely acid.
Subspace sat back, eye wide and locked up onto the ceiling. A dull hum of a fluorescent lightbulb, which he wasn’t entirely sure was real, began to fill the ringing in his ears. The light it gave off blossomed into a headache, yet he knew he couldn’t close his eye. What the hell was happening to him? There had to be something in that soup. That shifty playgrounder did something to it. He was sure.
Poison.
It had to have been tampered with. He’d poisoned his food, he’d been deliberately trying to kill him.
It seemed most reasonable in his mind, his hands began to shake, his vision would blur. The light wouldn’t go away. It’s buzz seeped into his brain, another layer of noise added onto his stream of thoughts. He wanted it all to stop.
His gaze darted to the door as his heart doubled in pace, the rhythmic ba-dum and the sound of blood rushing overlaying atop every other sound he could hear.
He kicked and pushed his way back against the bathtub, gripping the curtains tight enough to puncture holes.
Something was outside that door. It was going to kill him.
The thought rooted itself in his brain, and suddenly, everything was on fire. Every nerve in his body screamed in pain. Every movement was agony. Breath left his lungs faster than he could force it in, but the mere movement of trying to breathe only sent a new shockwave of pain through his body.
It’s going to take you back. Everyone will watch as you beg, but nobody will help.
The thoughts worsened. Images of him before his superiors burned into his eyelid. He couldn’t blink without the thought of his brutal torment being seared into his mind. He brought his claws to his temples, feverishly scratching as he tried to pry the thoughts away. The pain in his stomach had begun to mingle with something new entirely- dread.
He’d pull in a gasp for air, bringing his eye to the door and making a feeble attempt to force in any thought other then the inevitable. Whatever was out there was set to slaughter him. Here, in somewhere far away from any home he’s known, he’s going to die alone.He opened his mouth to scream, but not a sound came out. He was in hell.
The knob turned.
They were going to hurt him again.
Subspace moved his arms to cover his chest, knees scrambling against his front as he backed himself into the space between the side of the bathtub and the wall. His body shook violently as his mind instead raced on how to save himself.
The door cracked open.
He couldn’t move. The most he could do was brace himself for whatever came next.
.
What came instead was a presence beside him and something warm laid against his shoulder.
He’d jolt at the feeling, squeezing his eye shut tighter as it felt along his back and rested against the opposite arm. Strangulation. He was going to be suffocated.
Subspace couldn’t help but hate himself. He’d just sat there and allowed himself to die instead of doing anything helpful. He was meant to be great, but he’s only a coward.
he wasn’t sure if the tears had just begun, or if they’d been falling for quite some time.
“Subspace?”
The voice was soft and concerned, instead of a guttural growl he’d been anticipating.
He’d slowly pry his eye open, wincing at the light. He turned his head slowly, still expecting something to leap at him at any moment, yet managed to settle his focus on the internal beside him.
Boombox.
That dopey playgrounder rested beside him, one arm wrapped around his shoulder and the other settling a box of tissues in his lap.
He froze, his eye wide as he searched his face. He wanted desperately to see a malicious grin, an upset frown at the fact he was still alive and breathing. All he found was concern. Was pity.
“It’s ok, I’m here. You’re gonna be alright.” He’d murmur, pulling a tissue from the box and slowly bringing it to Subspace’s lips.
The latter flinched when he drew close, but made no attempt to shove him away as he dabbed the remnants of bite from his lips. He’d crumple it, then take another to wipe at his tears.
Despite his want to preserve his pride, Subspace couldn’t help but lean against his hand. He was gentle in a sort of way he hadn’t experienced. Warm. It was grounding.
He finally managed to take in a breath deep enough to calm the screaming in his lungs. He’d hold his breath, allowing his chest to feel full, before sighing heavily.
“Subspace?” Boombox’s voice came again. “Are you alright?”
The scientist merely watched him, biting his tongue as he slowly shook his head.
“What.. do you think..?” He growled out, His own voice sounding foreign in his ears.
Boombox furrowed his brow, looking back towards the door as he scratched the back of his neck.
“Cmon, let’s get you cleaned up and somewhere more comfortable.” He murmured, setting the tissue box aside holding out a hand for Subspace to take.
He’d smack away the playgrounder’s grubby fingers, and attempt to stand on his own. His legs shook violently, struggling to support his own weight. Subspace suddenly collapsed, but was quickly caught by Boombox, who nearly picked him up and cradled him close in his arms.
He would have enjoyed the embrace if it wasn’t for how utterly humiliating it was. Having to be carried out like an infant??? It made an anger bubble in his chest. He was fine! He was a blackrock hand-picked scientist and inventor. He was THE Subspace Tripmine! Who was this inphernal thinking he could handle someone like him?
His attempts to claw at Boombox’s back were futile little scrabbles. He was gently settled onto the bed, and a pair of hands came to lift the sides of his shirt. He forced them back down, shooting the other man a venomous glare.
“I’ll do it. Go away.” Subspace demanded, and much to his relief, Boombox backed off. The latter took a few steps back, nodded gently, and crossed to his dresser where he fished out a clean shirt and set it beside Subspace. He’d stand for a moment, watching him and opening his mouth as if to say something else, but instead set his jaw and looked to the bathroom.
“You get changed.. I’ll uh.. go clean up.” Boombox mumbled, turning back towards the bathroom and disappearing behind the door.
Subspace took the opportunity to inspect himself more thoroughly. The front of his shirt was soiled by his vomit, likely why Boombox pushed for him to get cleaned, but beside blood dribbling from some cuts on the side of his forehead, he seemed relatively unharmed. A slight growl left his lips as he ripped his shirt off, bunching it up and tossing the cloth aside as he slid on the one the playgrounder left out for him.
This was all wrong. He wasn’t meant to be treated like this. In the heat of the moment, he’d forgotten entirely about who he was meant to be for his faction. Why did he accept help from a playgrounder? Didn’t that insufferable little tick know they’re supposed to despise eachother? He laid back, covering his face with his hands.
What was he meant to do?
On one hand, he’d humiliated himself in front of the other, shown himself at his weakest. On the other, he seemed to show genuine concern. Or something like that, at the least. He wasn’t going out of his way to make fun of him, like he’d been conditioned to expect.
Subspace sighed, pulling his hand from his face and glancing over to the nightstand. He spotted a glass of water, and would reach out for it, his shaky grip snatching the cup, bringing it to his lips, and downing it quickly. Anything to get the vile sting from his cheeks.
Boombox returned as Subspace wormed his way under the blankets, curling up as his body gave a long shudder. It took more energy out of him than he’d wanted to admit.
His gaze fixated onto the playgrounder as he settled in bed beside him, resting back against the wall as he watched Subspace.
The latter huffed, turning away and growling.
“Stop looking at me like that. I’m fine.” He’d snap. Boombox would let out a long, shaky breath, as if he’d been holding back tears.
“I’m just worried about you.” The lime inphernal murmured, bunching up the edge of the blanket in his hands.
“I said im fine. I don’t know what the issue is!” Subspace suddenly sat up, whipping his head over to glare down the playgrounder. Boombox nearly flinched, but managed to keep himself still as he balled his hands into fists.
“I just- don’t eat. I don’t feel the same kind of hunger you do, Boombox. Do you think they cared enough to feed me? I was good for one thing, and one thing only. I created weapons for them, and they used them. That’s what I did. I didn’t have time for anything useless like that!”
Subspace would grab the bottom of his shirt, lifting it to accentuate his point. His ribs were prominent on his midsection, and his stomach sunk inwards, giving him the appearance of a skeleton shrink-wrapped in skin.
Boombox was quiet. He’d seen his body countless times, but he never wanted to comment on it. It felt invasive. Wrong, almost. The musician pulled in a sharp breath, unable to meet Subspace’s icy gaze.
“Don’t give me that.” He continued, “You know you feel bad. And you should. You had it easy in lost temple. You had someone who cared for you. You had the liberty of choosing your faction. Boombox, you have a mother who cares enough to be in your life. Do you know what I wouldn’t give to have that? Do you even care that I’d trade my gear JUST for the CHANCE of seeing him again!?”
Subspace snarled, pushing his shirt back down and jabbing a claw at the other man.
“You wouldn’t know anything about hardship. You don’t have any reason to be upset. I DO.”
Boombox tensed at his last statement, his jaw hung open in shock. Subspace watched him, the shaking migrating through his body as his breath became staggered. He’d drag himself close to the playgrounder, then settle his head on his chest.
“Hold me.” He’d demand, but his lips would form a silent ‘please’. Boombox hesitantly settled his arms around the scientist, and could feel the intensity of his shivering.
“It’s alright.” He’d murmur, squeezing him close and pressing a hand to the back of his head. “It’s ok, now. I’m here.”
Subspace couldn’t help but wail. His sobs forced their way out, his longing for someone to care for him finally forcing its way out in the form of tears. He’d unravel his arms from their position at his chest, throwing them around Boombox’s stomach and pulling himself against his warm, tender embrace. Ugly sobs filled the silence in the room. The highly blackrock inventor reduced to a shivering, sniffling mess in the arms of a playgrounder.
He was pathetic.
He was sure nobody would ever love him.
Before his mind could spiral again, a gentle squeeze around his body reminded him that he could be wrong.
He’d slowly drag his gaze up to Boombox, who brushed the hair from his face and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“I’m.. I’m sorry..”
“It’s alright, my love. You haven’t done anything wrong.”