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Dom was the kind of person who’d kept his emotions under wraps.
If you’d ask any inphernal about what kind of individual he was, they would probably go along the lines of a demon who is sophisticated and soft-spoken. Someone who’d seemingly never lose their temper, who actually thought before he spoke. Though some could argue that he was monotone and sometimes hard to read, he tried to make it up for his sense of humor and sarcasm, though his jokes wouldn’t always land at face value.
It wasn’t like he didn’t have emotions though. He simply chose not to let them get the best of him. That was simply the kind of guy Dom was.
Yes, that was exactly it.
A person could handle and keep his emotions in check.
Yet recently, he’d started to resonate a bit differently about that trait of his.
It was about midnight or so, Dom couldn’t really tell, his eye was closed and a numb ringing started to echo in his ears, filling the empty silence. He laid on his bed sideways, hanging his arm on his pillow where his head was resting. He had been tossing and turning all night like he always did, a sort of nightly reoccurrence. He wasn’t exactly the heaviest sleeper.
His insomnia, while insufferable, was something he had gotten used to overtime. It sort of helped that he started to take melatonin, but even the medication would be a gamble for Dom to finally sleep in an hour. He was accustomed to the times he’d lay awake in his bed for nearly 4 hours before drifting off, even with the help of every method he had known.
So to get his measly 8 hours of sleep, he had started taking frequent naps during the day. It seemed as though something was different about the daytime, compared to the unpredictable nights Dom would always go through.
His insomnia wasn’t the only factor for his sleepless nights.
He really didn’t want to acknowledge it, but lately he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about a certain memory. A time he wasn’t quite fond of.
He really hated it whenever his brain would force him to remember.
Because he wasn’t able to just simply forget immediately afterwards. No, it stayed with him, until the very end. Until his mind grew way too exhausted to think about anything else.
He turned again once more, now his back against the mattress, his wing sitting uncomfortably behind his back. His eye moved to the ceiling, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling lamp above him.
He’d remember the berating, the arguments that seemed endless. The echoes across the hallways, the way he’d flinched whenever one of their parents raised their voice between every pause, the pauses that Dom would always hope would be the one that would conclude it all, only for it to keep going. It would just keep on going.
It would always feel eternal. Like there was no end.
The constant feeling of never knowing when he’d be safe again.
He distinctively remembered that particular day when he was at his lowest. The time where he had been ripped off of his wing. When his eye had been gouged out. He'd always wince upon the memory, sometimes feeling the exact moment of pain he had endured before.
The area where his wing had been amputated had started to cramp, his scar on his eye began to tingle in pain. This irritated him. How could they still ache after all the healing and treatment he had to go through over the years?
He felt his heart pound through his chest, and his breathing began to abnormally accelerate, but at this point he was too tired to care how the breaths he was taking were starting to thin out. Though his chest started to hurt, he just stayed there, staring at the ceiling.
This was so bizarre to Dom. Why was his mind so fixated on this? Why was he still thinking about this now?
He had cried, he had processed everything, he had moved on. He should've moved on. Yet he still couldn’t stop dwelling in the past.
It was so aggravating how he still acknowledged THEIR very existence. He had remembered all the scars they had inflicted onto him, the suffering they put him through. He swore to himself that he would stop remembering. He’d promised to himself that they were dead to him, that they meant nothing to him. But it was clear that he was just lying to himself. He would take even a glance at his reflection and the memories would just immediately flood back in. He'd remember it all, from the pain of his wing getting ripped off to their faces and appearance. To their voices and how they spoke. The awareness that he was still thinking about them made his muscles tense up. It was just so infuriating when he's tried so hard not to care.
And he knew he had every right to be angry, he just didn't expect himself to be taking this long. His mind practically had them memorized, thinking about what they did to him took up so much of his time than he thought. The realization hit him dead in the soul, gritting his teeth against one another upon realizing how significantly it was affecting him.
He wasn’t sure if he had actually moved on like he had claimed to. If the time he had given himself was all but a ruse. Why was he still so bothered by this?
What he was sure of?
He couldn’t contain all this frustration any longer.
He curled his fingers, his claws sunk into his mattress cover, his heart beginning to tense harder in pain in his fit of rage. His throat opened up, bracing itself for a scream, but he kept his jaw clenched shut, the phantom pain in the areas where his body parts had been stripped bare of began to amplify. He held his breath, holding in his need to shriek, not daring to wake up anybody else in the dead of night. He didn't need his brother, Valk, to worry about this unwanted desire for an outburst. He shouldn’t have to know about this.
When he refused to fulfill his need to scream, it soon shifted into his need to wreak havoc. His hands trembled in fury, wanting to lash out at something, anything to cool down his scorching heat intensifying in his chest. He could feel his blood against his skin boil through the barrier of flesh and bone. He still kept himself firm however, apart from the quivering in his hands from how much pressure he was applying to them. He was waiting as patiently as he could for his anger to dissipate, despite how much his heart felt it would burst out of his body.
His body went limp for a moment. He had no idea what to do with this helpless rage.
He subconsciously bit the inner part of his cheek and the pleasant, temporary relief surprised him. He bit down harder, trying to suppress his urges and ache of the incomplete parts of his body. His eye on his left swelled up, teardrops streaming down his face. It hurt, but the act of remembering and hatred he felt pained him more.
He knew what he was feeling right now was futile. It wasn't doing anything to help with his recovery. He couldn't understand why he felt so mad about this. It had been years, it was all in the past and it shouldn't be bothering him anymore.
The burn in his heart eventually started to die down a bit, with the help of the self-inflicted pain. Dom began to finally breathe out, feeling his huffs of steam against his face, soon evaporating into the air as he gasped. He released his grip from his bed, and with that his deep, unsteady breaths were accompanied by sobs. His cheek had begun to bleed from the wound his fangs had continuously dug into, as he swallowed through the distasteful metallic taste in his mouth. The tissue he had bit off laid on his tongue alongside it. The relief was only temporary, but at least his urge to claw at everything had subtly subsided.
He hated it so much. He hated them so much. He hated how HE still hated them so much, that it was the one thing he thought about constantly, even though he had spent so much time processing what had happened over and over, repeating to himself to be okay with how he felt the way he felt. However what he hated the most was the realization that he may never actually get over this. That his past was the only defying attribute to himself as a person.
He had moved on, he was supposed to have moved on. He had acknowledged it, he's healed, he's claimed to have healed, why was his mind so persistent on remembering this dark part of his life?
All that effort and he was still haunted by the past. He was getting too old for this. He felt like a little kid again, exactly during those times full of fear.
He was helpless. So fucking helpless. Perhaps he hadn't been making any progress after all.
This was his fate. To never be able to overcome himself.
It seemed as though everything he had been trying up to this point had all been vain. His fury was still left unquenched and his shuddering stayed restless. It felt hot, no, scalding on his skin, as he felt the sweat gather his back. It was strange, having always been cold and needing multiple layers to combat his regularly abnormal low body temperature.
He kept panting huffs of steam, his face heating up from the internal body heat still rising inside of him. Teardrops kept flowing out of his eye, dripping onto the pillow where his head laid. Not even his own tears could extinguish the fiery, white flames lit inside him.
He was supposed to be the level headed one. The one who would know what to do in nearly every situation, who knew how to give and follow his own advice, instead of laying here having such a childish tantrum. To keep calm and keep looking forward on what to do onwards, to be willing to put in effort to get through this. He understood that he felt mad about this. And because he understood, he should’ve stopped having this childish stunt by now. To stop acting like a child.
He had let himself be upset enough. It was over now, it had been for a long time. He should stop being so mad about it.
He still felt angry. It wasn’t going away.
And that only fueled his burning rage even more.
His desire for destruction rushed back to his head, stronger than before this time. He wanted an excuse to rip the paint off the walls, to knock over the furniture and push the books off of the shelves, anything to alleviate his blazing hatred that made him feel stuck in his own skin. He felt so hot to the touch, he felt as though he was melting away with the flame still intact.
He tried the same tactic with chewing his inner tissue of his mouth, but he missed the bite, and his teeth slipped back to their own place. He didn't have any more energy to try again.
He grabbed a pillow to his face, his tears staining the deep violet silk pillowcase. After taking the deepest breath he could muster, he opened his mouth in an attempt to scream into it. He felt his teeth squeak against the fabric as he wailed, his face buried into the pillow converted the noise into muffles. When he was done, he kept squeezing the pillow tight, his mouth was still left open, the moisture drying out from the heaving. The dulling ache in his chest still remained.
Nothing was fucking working.
All he knew was that anger and hatred were reckless. It only caused destruction and pain. For others. For yourself.
So this time, with no other way to alleviate this unbearable emotion, he decided to not hold himself back. He was going to let go of every restraint he had on himself, and let himself uncontrollably sob, even if it meant recognizing his loathing and resentment. Even if it meant acknowledging how he truly felt. He started off with a small grunt, and little by little, allowed himself to start bawling. He still held the pillow he had yelled into, holding it in a tight hug, as if he were to suffocate somebody, his tears still soaking into the fabric. His eye started gathering heavier with steamy tears, that were just as swollen as his throat, gasping and groaning for air. He turned to face the wall, laying on his side, the throbbing pain in his wing growing from the pressure he had placed on it. It was incomparable to his fit of fury he was having.
He couldn't tell if crying or feeling furious were valid to feel at the moment.
He just wanted everything to stop hurting.
—
The sudden noise of muffles caught Valk off guard. That was odd. Usually, Dom would be trying to be falling asleep at this time. Keyword tried to. Valk knew his brother suffered from severe sleeping issues.
He was in his room, working on yet another soundtrack, even though he had been constantly told off by his brother to fix his goddamn sleeping schedule. He had made a deal with his brother that he would work on himself to take better care of his wellbeing, but boy, did old habits die hard.
He did promise himself one more hour before he would head off to sleep. He had made that claim since around 1am and the clock on his wall that now read 45 past. It was practically an hour anyway. He could spare a few minutes.
An energy drink sat on his desk and he tried to take a huge swig before heading over to see what was going on. The carbonation hit his throat leaving a tingling sensation, and he let out an exhale of satisfaction. He pushed his seat outward and stood up, making sure to keep his footsteps as silent as possible, in case it was actually nothing and Dom would awake from the sound.
It soon became apparent that it wasn't his mind making things up, as the muffles soon cleared up to be cries of sobs.
Shit-
He barged into the room after registering what was going on, his hand still hung onto the doorknob, and his eyes widened with disbelief.
If the gasps and yelps weren't concerning enough already, seeing his brother in such a state again in person definitely had.
These weren't like the breakdowns he's had before back then. It was happening to him again, this time in a much more of a gut wrenching atmosphere.
“Meg! What's going on-”
Before he could finish his sentence, he was cut off by an earraping shriek from his brother- Gods, he sounded like he was in horrible pain. Or was he being mad about something?
He rushed over to the bedside, where Dom had his back facing toward him.
“You can tell me, Mega, I-”
He got cut off again with a whine, followed with more sobs. Dom's heavy breaths soon filled the room completely and Valk was left speechless, taking a few steps back. Dom wasn't responding to him. He wasn't telling him anything; Valk didn't know what was going on.
For the first time, he froze as his blood went cold. As if he were stuck in time.
Valk didn't know what to do.
Should he give him space? Just give him some time?
Should he keep talking? Should he stay?
Does he not want him here? Does he need to be comforted?
Just what in Inpherno was he supposed to do?
He felt so guilty. Valk just felt so, so guilty. For all that had happened, for not protecting him enough despite being the older one. If this was how much pain Dom was enduring, he would take away all the pain and transfer all that he felt to himself, rather than see him this distressed.
It was clear nothing was going through to him, not with this much agony he was in. And Valk didn't want to make any haste decisions, for he was scared he would only make it worse. Comparing the other times something similar like this happened, it seemed as though this was the worst ever state Dom had been in.
Valk took in a shaky breath, trying to calm his nerves. He had to keep it together. For his brother Megaphone. This was no time for him to be the one panicking. His brother needed him.
He made up his mind eventually and gingerly walked over, slowly this time and looked over at his brother, the gasps and wails amplifying. It made him slightly tense up, remembering the times both he and his brother had to go through the years of torment with their parents, the cries being unforgettable. He kept going, and after a few minutes of silence from himself, he announced with the softest voice he could make, while making his statement as clear as possible.
“Im going to sit on your bed, and I’m going to be right next to you. I'll be fine, just..let it all out.”
There wasn't much he could do, other than waiting it out for an actual response. He wasn't about to abandon him, not when he was having a meltdown and in such a vulnerable state, and he wasn't going to risk anything just yet.
The next few minutes felt like hours. Valk sat on the side of the bed, facing away from Dom, staring at the light coming from the opened door. Every once in a while, his brother would cry out, probably in an attempt to relieve the heavy emotions he was dealing with. Valk couldn't help but flinch every time his brother would make a sound. It reminded him so much from back then.
Regardless, he still stayed, despite how much he would tremble. The heavy heaving and wailing started to die down, the only probable sound being the sniffling and hics every few seconds. Valk gave off a weak sigh, in both relief and worry. At least he seemed to have calmed down.
“Im here if you need anything else.”
…
Still no response. Maybe he should leave?
As he thought this, as he was about to get up, a noise broke up the repetitive hics.
“Please… don't go.”
Valk looked over, his brother still facing the wall. Valk turned away and chuckled, as a slight smile etched on his face. He kept himself on the bed.
“Alright, I'm not going anywhere.”
—
A few more minutes passed, and this time Dom began to speak. His cheek was swollen and bloody from the injury, it made him realise just how much damage he had done to himself.
“I just.. hate this.”
“...Hate what exactly?”
Dom struggles to find the right words, he chokes on his own hiccuping. Valk notices that Dom starts to struggle to catch his own breath, and he reassures him.
“It's okay. There's no rush.”
…
“It's just.. so frustrating… that I still think about what happened.”
Dom finally admitted under his breath, his eyes starting to swell up again.
Valk continued to keep silent, less Dom wanted to add anything else. Though it sounded vague, he knew what his brother had implied.
“I-I’m sorry.. I shouldn't be so worked up over this. I shouldn't.. be feeling this way. I just want to stop.”
His voice seemed worn out and filled with disappointment. Just for how long had he been crying?
“The way I see it, you haven't been allowing yourself to express how you feel,” Valk finally says from what Dom had left off, he begins to pick at his fingers, trying to put his words into place, “I think.. you should just allow yourself to be..angry or sad.. whenever and however-”
“Thats the thing, I did! I already did theres no need- I- just..why..”
Dom's breathing started to hitch, his voice seemingly growing more wearily.
“Why can't I seem to just move on?”
The ambience was filled with another frustrated moan. Dom was clearly really upset about this. Still, Valk had a lot to say on the matter.
“I think you're taking this whole thing.. the wrong way.”
Dom paused, his mouth still gaping open. He closed his mouth and turned his head to his older brother, who was still facing the other way from him.
“Like.. recovery..and healing right? Think of it as a graph. Completely different from physical scars. You'd expect it to be like a straight line? And it's actually more like a… a zigzag? Like there's still a few bumps here and there, hell, maybe there's a pit much larger than it should be.. but the line eventually still… keeps going up. It just might not always be that straightforward."
Valk had some sort of idea on what he was saying, but his mind was honestly just lost. Speaking these thoughts out loud was a lot harder for him than he thought. But he still wanted to continue his metaphor, though he didn’t have the clearest conclusion in mind.
“The lines curve and swerve all the time. But that doesn't mean you're not healing from this any less. And your pain is valid. It’s okay to feel like this from time to time.”
“Trying to suppress everything, even if you think that's the fastest way to recover, only makes the journey harder. Just because you allowed yourself to be upset once or twice, or even multiple times, doesn't limit you to be alright straight away. That's just… not how that works.”
Dom started to see his faults and began to wonder when he even started to feel this way about himself. About why he thought the way he did. It was ironic, how he never thought of that before, even though he claimed himself to be the emotionally intelligent one.
“And that's alright. That's the beauty of healing. I guess. You just need to be patient, to give yourself time. As much as you need to. You're going to have bad days. And that's okay. ”
A small chuckle caught Valk off guard. It came from behind him, where his brother Dom was.
“Hah.. S-since when did you learn how to give advice..?”
“I've learned from the best. I believe you've said something similar? About not trying to hinder your growth or whatever..? There's no way you don't remember..”
“...”
Valk started to feel the shift of mood in the air. Was that last comment overkill? He wracked his brain, trying to figure out what to say next.
“I-If it gets that unbearable to handle, we can find ways to deal with that. And you can always just… talk to me.”
Valk felt like he was rambling on too much. Like a parent lecturing a child for their mistakes. He wanted to cut this short, in case his brother had other things to say.
“I'm always here to help you, Megaphone. Through and through.”
More silence followed aside from the small sobbing spasms in between, that would part the dead quiet. Valk sighed again. Maybe he should've done more. Maybe he should've done less.
He didn't really know.
Valk was startled by the sudden movement he sensed from the mattress. He felt arms wrapped around his shoulders, as a head rested next to his neck. The slight embrace made his spine shiver, but he immediately was taken aback by the warmth that finally thawed him and soon his eyes filled with tears too.
He held onto his brother's arms, trying to stay strong. He pursed his lips, not daring to let himself shed a single tear. He had to stay strong.
“Thanks, Mic.”
Valk finally let himself tear up from what his brother muttered to him between his weeps. He held his face closer to his brother's arms, feeling his own skin against his.
“Yeah. Anytime.”