Work Text:
Wade hated suffocating. It was one of the worst ways to die. It made him feel like he was still strapped to that table, getting tortured and experimented on. He'd never wanted to die so badly in his life.
He was suffocating now. His chest ached and every breath was a gasp for air. Wade was limp. He couldn't move. Well, he could, but gravity was pressing his body into the cold cement.
The leftover blood on his body had dried, the cool air made it feel weird, tingly. He couldn’t remember how he got here; lying on a desolate rooftop. Did it even matter?
Words failed to explain how Wade felt. He just knew that it hurt. It hurt worse than getting his head cut off or being stabbed or poisoned or any other gruesome death. He felt his soul burning. Like it was trying to claw its way out of his body to find relief.
Wade had texted Nate earlier and Nate was worried, of course. Wade didn't like to worry him. Or, maybe he did. When Nate stopped responding he felt that ache blossom inside his body and spread. Maybe he was busy. Or giving him space. Or maybe he just didn't want to entertain whatever Wade was doing.
Or maybe he just didn't care anymore.
Wade sunk a small blade directly into his neck. Blood gushed out of his body and he felt like he was suffocating again; choking on his own blood that filled his lungs. But then he was dead. He got his relief.
He couldn't feel the persistent agony anymore, not the pain of the knife, or the hurt he'd felt since he was a kid. It was nothingness, pleasantly nothing. He wished he could stay that way forever.
But he always woke up. Why did he have to wake up? Why couldn't this have been the one time his healing factor failed and he died for real?
The answer was simple: the universe hated him.
So he woke up. Again. And he'd have to face Nathan after promising he wouldn't kill himself anymore. He'd have to face the hurt that he still felt, though, now it was slightly better.
Wade wondered briefly why he couldn't be 'normal'. But he already knew why. He hadn't been normal a day in his life. His feelings were explosive and rash and so overpowering. That wasn't normal. The way he handled them, with massacres or self-mutilation, that wasn't normal either.
His phone was still silent. Nate would’ve known by now what Wade had done. That damn telepathic link they shared always exposed him. Nate had explained it before, how he could feel the disconnection between their minds when Wade died.
But Nathan really didn't care, huh? Wade thought if he stared at the phone hard enough that Nate would text back.
He didn't want to talk to him, not really, but he wanted to know Nate still cared. Maybe Wade was just seeking attention. Maybe he was just being a dick and hurting Nate's feelings to feel more secure.
Wade never should've promised sobriety. Even when he first said it, he knew he'd end up failing.
Everything was too much all the time. Drugs didn't work and cutting never lasted long. But death...death made all of it go away. It was only for a few minutes, sure, but being dead for a few minutes feels like a lifetime when you're constantly suffering.
Maybe Nate would leave him for this. This was probably his last straw. Wade yanked the knife out of his neck only to point it between his eyes.
His phone buzzed, Nate was angry he broke his promise. Wade was about to do it again too. Reluctantly, he set down the blade and picked up his phone with hands trembling from adrenaline.
Wade apologized because it was all he could manage to do. He said he was fine because he was, he always was. He couldn't die, couldn't get hurt, not really.
And Nathan said they had to talk. Wade knew what that meant. It meant Nate being upset, rightfully so, and telling him they wouldn't work out.
Wade sat up, trying to catch his breath as the air left his lungs. He hated this feeling. He hated suffocating.
"are you going to leave me?"
"No.."
Liar. Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
It was such an obvious lie too. The ellipses gave it away, so did the lack of reassurance. Usually, Nate would give him some kind of comfort, but now there was only the aching silence.
It was Wade’s fault. He did this, he ruined it. Wade felt sick to his stomach. Actually, he was sick.
Wade puked right into the puddle of his own blood.
He was going to lose the best thing that ever happened to him. And it was all his fault.
Wade threw up again, this time almost nothing came out. He dry heaved for a minute and sobbed breathlessly for longer.
When Wade finally stood up, his knees were shaky and weak; vomit and blood crusted on his shirt.
He wanted to just walk right off the edge of the roof and splatter on the ground. But if he died again Nate would know. And then he'd go back to the future without even sparing Wade a goodbye.
Wade managed to puke into a trash can this time.
He needed to numb these feelings without killing himself. So instead, he stabbed his knife into his arm and didn't pull it out. It was the only way to keep the pain constant without his healing factor interrupting it. Actually, his healing only made the pain worse. Wade's skin tried to sew itself back together but the knife blocking its way made it split open again and again and again.
He let it sit that way all the way home.
When he finally arrived at his doorstep, he tore the knife out leaving fresh blood dripping down his arm. Nausea flushed through his veins as he opened the door.
When he entered, he was quiet and still. Wade tried not to make too much noise or draw attention to himself in any way. If his memory were better, it would've reminded him of sneaking past his dads room when he was angry or drunk.
Nate wasn't immediately visible and for a moment Wade wondered if he was home at all. But he knew he was; not through the link, he just...knew.
Wade thought about making a break for the bathroom and locking himself inside until Nate agreed to never talk about it again. Another part of him wanted to just shoot himself and bleed out on the floor. Both of those options would make Nathan sad so Wade just stayed put.
When Nate approached Wade his expression was overflowing with disappointment and pity. Wade couldn’t bear to look at it.
"Let's get you cleaned up," Nate said softly. It was too gentle, too kind, Wade didn't deserve that kind of treatment. Still, he wouldn't deny Nate right now so he forced his legs to carry him to the bathroom. Nathan prepared a wet washcloth and pressed it to Wade's clothes and skin.
He shifted away initially but soon gave in to the delicate touches. Nathan was silent the entire time. Wade hated it.
He's always hated silence; it grates on his ears and makes the countless thoughts and voices so loud. Right now, those voices were quiet too, like they knew he didn't deserve the comfort of hearing them. His thoughts still raced, but not enough to distract from the aching quiet.
Say something. Say something. Say something. Say something. Say something.
"...say something..." His voice was small, meek. From all the vomiting it should've been raspy but it wasn't. Wade didn't even realize he’d spoken until Nate paused.
"...I don't know what to say. I– I don't know what's wrong and I don't know how to help you..."
That word, 'help'. Wade was beyond help. He couldn't be helped or fixed or saved or improved. Nate clearly hadn't realized that yet.
"I– I know you wanna leave so just..." Wade couldn't say it, he couldn't breathe. He was suffocating again.
"...I know you wanna leave me...so go! stop– stop torturing me…! just leave...it's what you– what you– want..." Wade's voice came in short gasps, panic kissing his every word. His indestructible body was beginning to give out beneath him.
Wade collapsed onto the floor, his head hung low in shame. Nathan just watched for a moment, processing. "Wade.." He mumbled out, his tone full of pity. Wade didn't need pity.
He felt Nate crouch down beside him, his hand hovered over Wade's shoulder like he was afraid to touch him. Wade couldn't hold back his tears anymore. How pathetic.
"Just leave me already.." Wade couldn't hear his own voice anymore, it was distorted and so far away.
Nate finally gripped onto Wade's shoulder, soothing his thumb over it. "Wade… I'm not gonna leave—"
"STOP! JUST- JUST GO!! LEAVE ME!! I DON'T WANT YOU HERE!! LEAVE ME. LEAVE– leave me.." He shrieked and struggled to escape Nate’s gentle grasp. Wade couldn't feel himself breathe. Why would he say that? He didn't mean it. He'd never mean it.
If Nate got up and left right now he'd never forgive himself. Wade just couldn't help but destroy every good thing in his life.
Nathan quickly pulled his hand away and watched in shock. Wade was practically convulsing now, gasping for air and making small pathetic sounds.
"Breathe, Wade. Breathe with me.."
Wade didn't even try, his lungs felt like they were collapsing.
Nate tried again, "Wade, you need to breathe. Slowly, okay? Please.." He reached out to grip Wade's shoulders again and Wade thrashed back.
Wade fought to get away. He flung his arms around, trying to scratch and claw at Nate. Wade was shouting things, broken sentences. Nate couldn't understand him through the sobbing. Wade would never hurt Nate but his body wasn't listening to him anymore.
Nathan couldn’t think fast enough so he just wrapped Wade into his arms and held him there tightly. Wade tried to push him off and hit him but Nate didn't budge. Even as Wade cursed and shouted at him, his grip so tight on Nate’s arms it was sure to bruise, he held him close.
Wade’s body eventually gave up and submitted to the fact that he wouldn’t escape. That left Wade limp and sobbing in Nate’s arms. Nate loosened his grip and held Wade like he was delicate. Like slightest aggression would break him.
Nate stroked his hand over Wade's back and slowly rocked him until Wade quieted down.
"...Do you...feel any better..?" Nate spoke cautiously as if calming a wild animal.
Wade didn't respond. He could breathe again but his airways were still cluttered with guilt.
"I didn't...I didn't mean it.." Wade whispered, hiding his face and gripping Nate's shirt tightly.
Nate nodded, "I know. I know, Wade."
"...I’m sorry. I'm really sorry."
Nate's heart broke at the weakness of Wade's voice. "It's okay. But, I'd like us to have a real conversation about...everything.” Nate spoke so gently, like he was worried anything could set Wade off again. He felt Wade's hands tighten in his shirt.
Wade didn't have to say anything for Nate to know what he was thinking. "No, Wade. I'm– I'm not going to leave you. I just want to talk. Later, okay...?" Wade nodded into his chest.
"Okay, that's good. You're doing real good," Nate whispered. Wade shook his head in retaliation, nothing about him was good.
"..no.." Wade managed to speak but didn’t sound like himself anymore. Nate just sighed.
"You are. You're doing good, Wade. You're calming down, that's good." Wade just whined, he was too tired to fight anymore. Nate held him in place, caressing over his back and neck and any part of him he could touch.
They stayed that way for an hour, with Nate holding him so close and so tight that Wade thought they might melt together. Every breath they took was shared. Wade's lungs had never been so happy.