Chapter Text
Surely, this must be ground zero.
You are certain that you’ve hit it. The bottom of the barrel. The last straw plucked out of the dispenser. Whatever other symbolic thing that is synonymous to your situation. You probably could think of more if it weren’t for the stupid brain fog you have right now.
If you closed your eyes right now, you’d probably become overwhelmed with everything floating about in your head. Everything. Your work, your social life, your skills, hobbies, finances, independence, hell, your parents probably have a spot in there too, the emotional manipulators that they are. Every conversation with them turns into mental gymnastics of navigating their emotional immaturity until you just wish they’d be dead instead of you offing yourself first.
God, that last thought is stupid too, isn’t it. Wanting to off yourself. Like a densely packed can of sardines that just keeps getting unscrewed and sealed over and over again. For years. You sigh; you know you’re doing better, you know you’re finally reaching out and getting help. And you know you are technically fine, even with the storm hanging over your head. You’re alive. You’re breathing. You’re-
… You still feel like crap.
So you do the only thing you can think of right now without losing your mind.
🗨 Rafayel? Are you awake?
Your phone is about to die, yet it survives for a text back from him. His response comes faster than you think.
🗩 I am now.
🗩 What’s up, cutie?
It makes you smile that he loves you this much. It’s hard to find that spark of living in yourself on bad days like these, but somehow, he just knew how to do it.
🗨 Can I come over?
🗨 Or… Can you…?
🗨 Actually, no, it’s okay. I’ll come over.
There is a knock on the door faster than you expect. It’s almost like magic, really. Him whipping out the spare key you gave him, opening your front door, navigating through what has to be heaps of unattended trash everywhere and barging into your room.
“How the hell did you get here so quickly?” Words sound so hoarse coming out of your mouth.
He softly smiled. God, his smile is so, so cute. “Don’t worry about it, cutie.” He replied while making his way to your bed, taking a seat on the mattress. “Let’s focus on you first, yeah?”
You want to listen to him. You really, really want to listen to him. If someone told you the world was going to end and you could only be saved if you listened to Rafayel and his words, you absolutely would without question. But that’s just the tragedy of it all, isn’t it? Your heart and mind never listen to each other. While your emotions would drop everything to be with Rafayel, your mind just had to want to make everything worse.
He isn’t going to love you if you can’t love him in return.
He isn’t going to stay if you’re a mess of a human being.
He isn’t going to take care of you; you have to do it yourself. And if you can’t do it yourself, you-
“Hey.”
Somehow in the midst of your brain fog, you find yourself staring at him. Face to face. Had he just decided on a whim to lie down right next to you like this? Legs curled up, sweater messily clad over his shoulders, head resting on his arm in lieu of a pillow? Even in this position, he looked so much better than you do right now. Kept together and attentive, eager and present. Not drifting. Not floating. Not lost, like you were right now. He was …
“Stop comparing yourself right now.” Rafayel spoke sternly. A tone as sharp as a butcher’s knife. Maybe even sharper than his scales, the ones that could be used to make deadly weapons.
“How did you know I’m comparing myself right now?” You said it without thinking, yet knowing the answer. That familiar red glow pulsed under his shirt, hidden in plain sight yet obvious to you.
He could feel your every pain, every anguish, every falter. Every shred of agony coursing through you was being reflected tenfold in that equally fragile heart of his, chipping away at his resilience as much as it had crumbled yours. And you brutally kept torturing him for it anyways, you horrible horrible-
“Stop.”
“Just let me feel this.” You interject, probably the first time today that you felt angry. Why won’t he just let you suffer? That stupid bond’s mark was probably what brought him here in the first place, not the fact that you texted him. “This hurts. It all hurts. Just let me be hurt. Let me be useless.”
“Do you think I’m stopping you because it hurts me ?” He seemed incredulous, not that you were aware or really caring about it. “I could care less about being hurt from what you do. I’m telling you not to hurt yourself.”
It doesn’t hit you. Not straight away. You think he’s lying. “But it’s the truth.”
“By whose authority?”
“Huh?”
He has a hand on your arm now, not pushing you towards him, but still physically touching you. How did he do this without your realising? “By whose authority is that the truth? That you should be hurt? Or be useless?”
You freeze. It… You… You can’t come up with an answer. It all… It all really really hurts. Your head feels heavy. You don’t want to move. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.” His deep voice returns, the colors in his eyes are dancing. Pink over blue over pink that doesn’t bore a hole into you. As much as he is looking into you, he doesn’t scare you. Never has. “It does matter.”
“To you?”
He shakes his head. “To you .”
It’s silent in the room after. It feels more silent than before. You glance at the ceiling fan moving aimlessly, watch the leaves outside your window fly along the wind. The thoughts in your head are mostly gone, some swirling and still fumbling, and yet you still mumble. “Tell me something.”
You feel him moving closer. “Like what?”
“Anything.”
His hand snakes past your shoulder and to your back. Pressure applied to make your body move closer to his. You couldn’t care about that right now, not when you can barely think. “How about my day, then?”
“I woke up late today.” He started. “Last night, I was painting till I could see the sun. Couldn't really sleep until it was done.”
“And before you ask, no, it’s not for Thomas.” He probably said it to make you laugh, and could only hug you closer when you didn’t. “It’s for… another occasion. I’ll show it to you soon.”
You want to say you’re looking forward to it. You don’t. “I tried to go for breakfast after that but it was already lunch then. Still got something to eat though, it wasn’t-”
Why are you staying?
You can’t be bothered to speak. You just say it in your heart and hope he listens.
His arms tighten around you when he does. Because I want to .
Want to? He wants to? What does that mean ?
Because you’re in pain. And you being in pain hurts me, too. It hurts me even more when I can’t beat up the person causing you pain, if that pain is coming from you.
He is too kind to you. Too nice to you. You shouldn’t rely on him.
You can rely on me.
You can’t expect him to save you.
I can’t, but I know you can. You can save yourself.
He won’t stay to help you.
I will .
… He holds you close. Not expecting an answer. Perhaps only demanding presence. You wish his love was unconditional.
It is.