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my-brothers-corrupted · 3 years

Text

Chapter Four - Part 6

Anti finds out about the missing medication.

Tws for severe abuse/torture, bruising, blood, imprisonment, and hypnosis.

Part 6 - Grantaire

“Ro?” says Blue carefully, stepping slow so as not to disturb a potentially out-of-his-mind older brother. “You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing?”

Red laughs. “You sound like you’re wondering if I’ve lost it.”

“I might be.”

“Well, I might have,” replies Red cryptically, and then turns to grin at him. He puts the shovel into the ground beside him and smacks his gloved hands together to rid them of dirt, standing over the hole he’s made in the front lawn.

One of at least five you can see.

“Diggin’ traps!” says Red. “So if anybody tries to come to the house, they’ll break their dumb-ass ankles.”

Blue breathes out an amused snort, shaking his head at him. “Better than doing nothing, I guess.”

“You doing okay? Come sit with me and I’ll dig if you want.”

Blue wants to tell him he’s okay, but it’s not been true for a few days. “Yeah, I’ll sit with you. Need some sun.”

“You do,” agrees Ro, frowning over at his moon-pale twin with his foggy, tired eyes. “Yeah.”

pine-storm-season asked: Hello Red, and hello Blue! Has today been uneventful so far?

“Yeah, pretty quiet, which I am more than grateful for,” says Ro, brushing sweat off his forehead. There’s exercise equipment in the basement and the motivation to be strong and fit again is one of the small things that keeps him going. “I think Dapper’s the only one who’s not going a little nuts with the confinement, though. None of us have, like, things to do, really. Usually we help Dok with a clinic or Anti sends us out to do shit. But now we’re just stuck. I gotta get out of this houseeeeee.”

He draws the word out, stabbing into the earth with greater ferocity, but he keeps a warm smile on his mouth, because in all honesty things could be a lot worse. Blue looks at him, thinking. He doesn’t really know where his brother’s at in his head these days, really - he just knows that Red tries to pretend he’s not as sad as he is, and that his priority is always their safety, and that he hasn’t laid a cruel hand on anyone since the day Anti stole him away again.

“If you have any other ideas for how to keep people out, please let me know,” says Red. “I’ll do it. At this point I’m up for anything. I think Dapper’s sharpening spikes on the porch, but in all honesty, I didn’t even think to question the little nightmare.”

Anonymous asked: Where's trick now? Is he still with Anti?

You find Dok at the bottom of the stairs.

He doesn’t even look up at you, just nods.

—

“There are reasons I do the things I do, you know,” says Anti.

You only have to look once to see that he has Trick in a deep thrall. Trick is practically in his lap, letting Anti sew up a hole in his shirt, his arms around his brother’s neck.

“You slapped Dapper,” says Trick, unhappy despite the glaze over his eyes and the faint sway of his head. “Please don’t hit him. I think maybe you’re also… I need you to not do that.”

“Tricks, if there isn’t a little force, everybody falls out of line. There’s a lot of control issues in this family, a lot of personalities that clash and problems in their heads. If I didn’t use a little force here and there, everyone would fall apart, pet. Dapper would have to go to a mental hospital and Red would run off with that guy he barely remembers and Dok - well, you’ve saved him from himself enough times to know what Dok does if no one’s there to save him from himself.”

Trick shivers, shaking his head. “I don’t want Dok to get hurt.”

“Okay, so don’t be so scared when I have to shove everybody around a little or when you have to shove somebody around a little, for that matter. Weren’t you obedient for Red when he used a little force?”

“Yeah, always.”

“You’re Red now. So don’t be so chickenshit. You have to protect the others from themselves. You’re right. If Dok would just take off those necklaces, wouldn’t everything be so much easier?”

“So much easier.”

“Don’t let him get all weepy with you just cause you had to put him in his place. He’ll get used to it. Without it, he would run off or hurt himself. All of them would. And then you’d be alone, Trickshot. You’d be all alone in the world again. No one would care about you. Is that what you want?”

“No,” insists Trick, shaking his head harder. “No, no.”

“Okay, then,” purrs Anti, stroking his hair, his pretty green hair, curling at the front. “Then everything’s good, my darling, isn’t it?”

Trick smiles at him, touching his cheek. Anti closes his eyes at the feeling of his little brother’s fingers in his beard, tangled up with him.

“Everything’s good,” agrees Trick. “Everything’s perfect, Anti.”

Anonymous asked: Geez Anti, you really got him in the palm of your hand uh? That much hypnosis can't be good for trick in the long term

“Hmmm,” grumbles Anti, dissatisfied. He hates thinking about that. Right now, he just wants to know that one of them is his without a doubt, without hesitation. And he will keep this one close to his chest - no matter what it takes. “He’s okay.”

“I feel good,” chirrups Trick. “I feel okay.”

“Yeah, sweet boy. You’re okay.”

Anonymous asked: Hey, Dok. You doing alright, bud?

“Everything’s great,” he says.

And it’s probably meant to be sarcastic, but really he just looks tired. Dapper ducks his head into the entryway, finding his brother sitting alone on the stairs, as he has all morning, without moving.

Anonymous asked: Oh dok... I'm so sorry. It seems like Anti keep burrowing his hold deeper into trick. You're probably going to be alone for a bit

Dok buries his face in his hands.

Very tired. Very tired of this fight. Very ready to be gone. Maybe for good. Very ready for something to change. But it never does. It never does. It never -

A hand descends on his shoulder, enveloping it. He looks up, eyes wide.

“You’re not alone,” signs Dapper, sitting down beside him. “You are never alone.”

Anonymous asked: Is blue alright? ":(

“This is my fault. I should have been watching you. I should have known the sun would be too much for you. It’s like thirty degrees out here.”

Red helps Blue towards the house, clutching him to his chest. Blue wants to tell him his constant self-blame is hardly ever deserved, but he’s feeling - hell, he doesn’t know if unwell even begins to cover it anymore. He’s faint and nauseous and that feeling is back - like there’s something beneath his skin. Like there’s something inside the folds of his brain. Like he’s a stiff white puppet on taut, tight strings, choking.

He’s tough. He is. He always has been. He always tries to be.

Right now, he just wants his big brother to make everything stop hurting.

“Red,” he cries, slumping down against his bed. “I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Red paces around the room, stressed, wetting a washcloth in the bathroom next to the sink.

“I want to stop feeling bad, Red, please touch me, please put your hands on me, this isn’t my skin…”

Red recognizes the mantra with a sharp fear. He had hoped that night where Blue was clinging to him and begging for his hands on him would be the only one of its kind.

The realization that the damage Anti is causing could be lasting terrifies him.

“I’m here,” he says, putting a washcloth on his head and his hands on his sides, stroking him through his shirt. “I’m here and so are you. Blue. Azul. My twin. My brother. You’re the only one here with me.”

Anonymous asked: So when is trick going to be allowed back downstairs? Are you going to keep him with you for much longer, Anti?

“I just want to hang out a little,” says Anti, setting Trick down beside him as he finishes the hole in his shirt. “Play a game with me, Trick. Or play a game and I’ll watch. I like to hear you talking. Sometimes it’s quiet with just Dap and I up here. I like to hear you talking.”

Anonymous asked: hey, blue, love. it's just you. it's just you, buddy. how about you curl up with red and we can talk to you, and try to distract you. would you like that, blue?

“Fuck, I can’t think straight,” whispers Blue.

“But that’s not new,” whispers back Red.

There’s a moment of confusion from Blue - and then the most begrudging smile Red’s ever seen.

“Fuck you,” laughs Blue, touching his hair. “Goddamn. When I throw up all over you, it’s because of that.”

Red snuggles down next to him in bed. “That’s fair.”

“You can talk with us as long as you like,” says Blue.

His voice is weak and tired. Pressed against his ribs, Roser can feel just how thready his heartbeat is.

It’s a new kind of fear for him. In the past, the best way to survive has always been to outlast Anti’s temper tantrums, protecting his siblings as best he can as they happen and taking care of any injuries, trusting that Anti and Dapper would not let one of them die, no matter how cruel their master can be.

But ever since that night Blue wouldn’t let him let go of him, Red has begun to wonder -

Maybe this is a storm we cannot sail through.

Maybe we should go.

He loves Anti.

But not enough to let him do this to his heart.

Anonymous asked: hey, blue! birds or reptiles? (in other words, the cat-or-dog question but with animals you probably hadn't thought about before.) and what about you, red?

“Ah.” Blue laughs weakly. “Um, birds, yeah. For sure.”

“I want a snake,” says Red.

“Fuck’s sake.”

“I do.”

“You’d have to feed it little baby mice.”

“That’s nature! I am ready and willing! Or maybe a skink.”

Anonymous asked: hell yeah, bird gang! snakes are pretty cool though, too. my family has a bunch of really silly chickens, sometimes they'll do stuff like sleep outside in the rain,,, while literally sitting on the door to the henhouse,,,,, or steal all the plums from the plum trees we have. they're good birds though, although they are dumbasses sometimes. does noodle do dumb cat things like that, too?

“I don’t know, I think he does,” says Blue, shaking his head a little. “Um. He falls off the bed sometimes.”

“Let’s let Blue have a lie-down for a while,” sighs Red, sitting up beside him. “You’re looking so pale.”

“Really don’t feel well,” he murmurs. “Really don’t.”

Red looks down at him, his hand across his white face, his eyes closed.

“Okay,” he says, beneath his breath. “We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow, then. And if Dark catches me… then Dark catches me.”

Anonymous asked: Yeah, we're here, Dok. We're with you, bud. We're supporting you however we can.

“Thank you,” sighs Dok. “You, at least, never seem to fall for his tricks. I’m grateful.”

Red steps into the hallway, a slightly dazed look in his eyes.

“Red?” asks Dapper, cocking his head at him. “Everything okay?”

Red blinks and then nods. Dapper doesn’t need to know. It’s safer if he doesn’t. “Yes, buddy, no worries.”

He’ll pack. He needs til tomorrow to try and steal the IDs out of Anti’s room - assuming he’s made new ones since the fire. He’ll get snacks and ready a lie.

He’ll get his twin help. No more waiting around. He is big brother, and he makes his own decisions.

Anonymous asked: do you want to try to sleep a bit, blue? that might help.

Blue does end up sleeping. He sleeps deep and hard, and Red is grateful. He hopes Blue is getting used to being himself at night again. He is still sleeping while Red gets his backpack and begins to shove things inside.

He puts brownies and apples and granola into their own little ziploc bags, and damn, isn’t that a privilege in its own right after all this time? He never thought he’d feel rich holding ziploc bags. A couple changes of clothes for both of them follow their snacks in, as well as what little money he has - Colombian pesos, already near worthless in their own country, now worth even less wherever he is now. He gets a camera and a charger and tucks it away just in case. Their toothbrushes. A comb. Deodorant. A blanket. Bag’s full.

“What else, what else?” he mumbles. “Can you think of anything? I’ll need to get the IDs out of Anti’s room if he’s made more. Most of the time, I’d try to go without them, but my fear is - ”

He gives a deep, mournful sigh, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“My fear is we might be in America.”

“Dun dun dun,” mumbles a sleepy Blue from his bed, and Red barks out a laugh.

“Go back to bed, dumbass. I got this handled.”

“I just let you do your own thing.” Blue turns back over and goes back to sleep.

Anonymous asked: what's your plan here, red? that might help with figuring out anything you've missed.

“I just - I’ll just get him to the hospital. I know where the road is, I think I remember. I can carry him if he’s tired. I’ll carry him the whole way if I have to, but I’m hoping we can hitchhike. We’ll get to a hospital. Sneak him out if I gotta cause we don’t have insurance. And if Anti comes to get us, at least he’ll have gotten a little help by the time he - ”

There’s a crash from upstairs and a short scream.

Red stiffens and stills, listening.

Anonymous asked: bringing him into the forest? do you think that is a safer option than waiting another few days?

Red sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “I… I don’t know. Maybe I’m being hasty. I - ”

Trick rushes past the door. Red looks up, startled. “Bud? What’s going on?”

“Where’s Dok?”

“Downstairs, I think. Hey, wait! What’s happening?”

“Dude,” says Trick, shaking his head. “Man, I’d hide.”

He tears down the basement stairs.

Red looks up.

Anti’s staring down from the banister upstairs, holding a half-empty bottle of small, white, anti-psychotics.

Anonymous asked: what is it, anti?

“Oh, nothing much, nothing much, nothing much,” says Anti, voice completely unglitching. “Not that much at all.”

Red backs up and returns to his room, standing in front of Blue as he sleeps. Anti stalks down the stairs step at a time, step at a time, step at a time. He puts his lips together and whistles a pretty old song you’ve heard Dap whistling a time or two - daisy, daisy, give me your answer, do…

“Where’s my little boy at?” he says, but the whistling keeps going even as his mouth moves, echoing around the walls of the house. “Where’s my dapper darling? That was silly of you, Monochroma. That was silly. Thinking you could steal from big brother.”

Anonymous asked: dapper did nothing, anti. he did not steal from you.

“Mm-hm, mm-hm, mm-hm,” nods Anti. “Definitely. Definitely. There you are, sugar.”

Dapper looks up from the piece of sourdough bread he’s eating, covered in golden butter. He’s sitting on the kitchen counter in Dok’s shorts and one of Blue’s t-shirts, his hair curling up from his eyes, his black eyelashes shining in the morning light. He sees the look on Anti’s face and sets his bread carefully down beside him, sitting up straight on the kitchen counter.

Anti steps forward and pulls him down by the collar until they’re nose to nose. He grins coldly at his pet, stroking the soft curls on the back of Dapper’s neck.

He leans in and puts his mouth against Dapper’s ear.

“I’m going to ask you this once,” he whispers, voice jovial and easy-going. “And you’re going to tell me. Or you won’t like the consequences very much at all. Where’s your Haldol, little mister? Huh?”

Dapper does not swallow or shake. He stares dead ahead, silent, unmoving. Trying to find a way to answer.

Anonymous asked: ??? Anti are you not HOLDING his haldol right now? What are you talking about?

“Don’t play dumb,” growls Anti, the faux pleasantry wearing off a little. “I know there was more. I have footage.”

Your screens all flash and you can see him the morning before Red stole it, sitting in his bedroom, sulking and rolling the Haldol around in his hands. “There was more of it. You disobeyed me directly. That wasn’t very clever.”

Dapper stares at him, pursing his mouth.

pine-storm-season asked: Is it not with you, anti? If it's not, i don't think Dapper knows where it is.

“No,” signs Dapper, shaking his head. “Okay, I give up. I’m sorry. I stole it.”

“So where is it?”

Dapper is stuck again, letting out a low, trembling breath.

“Unless someone else stole it for you?”

pine-storm-season asked: Red, where's Dapper's medicine? Anti's questioning him.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” whispers Red, pacing for a second before he darts out into the hall and stands in front of the kitchen, trying to get a look. Anti turns and looks right at him. He’s pressing Dapper into the back of the wall behind the counter, his hands gripping too tight at their little brother’s knees. Red feels a wave of revulsion for him and can’t even put a finger on why.

pine-storm-season asked: Anti, can you let Dapper go? I'm sure he gets the point.

“He’ll get the fucking point if he doesn’t start talking,” snarls Anti, slamming Dapper back against the wall.

There is a weak clattering as eleven more Haldol pills fall onto the table. Dapper and Anti turn to look at Red, holding out his hand.

“It was me,” he says. “Dapper didn’t have anything to do with it. Punish me, Anti, not him. He didn’t even know. He didn’t know where I hid them or that I was going to steal them. Leave him alone.”

Anti steps back from Dapper, letting him go. He stands in the middle of the kitchen, staring down at the little white pills. He pauses and turns to the sink, spitting out blood. It tastes like betrayal in his mouth. Like weakness in his mouth. He straightens up again, eyes gleaming, and Red feels a chill up his body.

“First I’m going to torture you,” he says, pointing at Red. “And then I’m going to string your little brother up to show you what happens when you work against me.”

“No! Anti, he wasn’t a part of - ”

Anti slams into Red and grabs him by the head, tearing out strands of his hair.

pine-storm-season asked: Dapper was not involved, Anti. Dapper didn't even know it was happening until it already had.

“He should have goddamn told me,” yells Anti. “He would have known the second that Red gave it to him what had happened! He thinks he can pretend he’s always so fucking innocent! He’s sneaky, I know that, you think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know, you little brat? You get it from me!”

Dapper is on Anti’s shoulder, trying to yank him off his older brother. Anti slams his elbow into his face and throws him back, dragging Red towards the stairs.

“Ro!” croaks Blue from his bedroom door. “Anti, don’t!”

“You want to be involved, you little witch? I’ll use you for goddamn kindling. Come here, Blue, I need a body.”

Blue’s eyes widen in alarm and he rushes towards the basement.

“You can’t get away from me! You all belong to me! You’ll do what I fucking say! Little traitors, little rats! You think you can outsmart me, think you can beat me down to the earth again? I’ll strip you into leather! Think Jack made you all stronger than me? Clever? More sly? I’ll rip you apart!”

bupine asked: trick? where are you? anti's upset, your brothers are in trouble. i suspect you can calm him down.

Trick is in the guest bedroom, him and Dok playing with pieces of string for Noodle to chase. He knows his brother hasn’t heard the commotion upstairs, because he looks happy and calm, laughing when Noodle leaps after his piece of string. Trick gets up and goes to the door. He hears the dull thud of someone striking the floor and steps back, looking at Dok.

“Haha, he gets so frustrated, look at his face!”

Dok is smiling, wide and calm. He hugged him when he came back downstairs and won’t stop holding his hand. He’s here. He’s okay.

His twin is okay. Sometimes the others need a little force.

“Haha,” repeats Trick flimsily. “Ah, yeah. Yeah. He’s cute.”

He shuts the door behind him and goes back to sitting with Dok.

cest-mellow asked: trick you NEED to go upstairs. anti is going to possess blue again and he’s gonna torture red. is that the force you think they deserve? all for getting dapper his medicine he NEEDS? should they be punished for taking care of one another? is this the force you agree with??

“There’s nothing I can do,” whispers Trick, pushing you away.

Anonymous asked: Trick, the scar on your hand, the sting in your cheek, he slapped Dapper right in front of you. He's not "using a little force". He's hurting them because he's angry and violent and he wants to see them in pain and no other reason! He's done the same to you and your twin for years.

Trick rubs anxiously at the burn on his hand, using his other hand to rub at Dok’s shoulder. They’re so used to casually touching each other it doesn’t even make his twin look up.

Yes. Anti has hurt him and his twin for years. But not today. Today, he is the favorite, and he can keep his zwilling safe.

Anonymous asked: Trick I need you to understand that whatever anti told you, this isn't "force" or"punishment" he explicitly used the word "TORTURE"

Trick’s face seems to break. He grits his teeth hard, shaking his head and curling in on himself.

“Hey,” murmurs Dok, looking over. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Trick doesn’t answer. Dok glances over at you, seeing the camera flash, and takes it carefully into his hands. Within moments, he is on his feet, headed to the door.

“No, no,” cries Trick. “Stay down here, Dok.”

“What’s going on?” Dok’s voice is afraid.

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, Anti's mad because Red got Dapper his medicine, and I think he might go after Blue, who did nothing. At least calm him down so he won't hurt Blue too, okay? Blue did nothing to deserve that, even if you believe the others did.

“Shit,” hisses Dok, tearing open the door.

Trick is there, grabbing him, a second later.

Dok stares down at the hand wrapped around his bruised wrist, his heart thudding hard in his chest. Slowly, he turns to his twin. Trick’s eyes are blue flames.

“My love,” says Henrik. “It is time you start making choices about the man you are becoming.”

“Don’t go,” says Trick. “This isn’t about morality. This isn’t about me. He will hurt you again.”

Something inside Henrik’s chest breaks clean open.

“Again?”

Trick turns his eyes away.

“You knew. Or guessed, anyway. You suspected.”

Trick cannot look him in the eyes. Something in Henrik’s chest is oozing hurt. Crimson as the sun when the trees are burning.

Anonymous asked: Trick, I know how much Dok means to you. Trust me, I know how much this kills you. You just want to do what you can to keep your twin safe. But everyone else, they're your brothers, too. Red sat with you at night, y'all talked about serious stuff and silly stuff like the dorks you are. Blue sat with you after YOU attacked Dok. They don't want you to be hurt. They would try to keep Anti away if he ever wanted to "punish" you, or worse. Brothers shouldn't hurt each other, Trick. I think you can believe that if you really try. Brothers shouldn't hurt each other. And you can help.

“I don’t - I don’t want…”

Dok can’t tell if he’s stammering or just trying to find the words. Trick is looking at him. Trick’s hand rises slowly and his fingers touch Dok’s throat, wrapping loosely around, but just like the other night, Dok doesn’t protest or fight. Trick pushes him back just a little and Dok goes, hitting the wall.

“I don’t… want to be something that hurts you. Or any of them. I don’t… think brothers hurt each other?”

Henrik doesn’t know why he sounds confused, but he sees the truth still alive in his brother.

“Let me go, Chase,” he says. “Please.”

cest-mellow asked: trick, loving your brothers doesnt just mean cooked sausage and cakes and holding them in their sleep. it doesn’t just mean getting them water when their hands have been mangled and it doesn’t just mean calming them down. you have to protect them and defend them from what’s hurting them. and what’s hurting them is anti. he told red “i am going to torture you, and then string your little brother up.” protect. your brothers.

“But that - that - that’s what I want it to mean, Deutsch,” Trick says. “That’s what I want it to mean cause then nothing would ever have to change.”

“Was that happiness, Trick?” asks Dok, shaking his head. “Was that all you hoped for?”

“You besides me while I sleep? Your hands against my shoulders while I keep guard over us? You eating sausage and playing with our cat? Yes, that’s all that I hope for. That’s everything I hope for.”

Dok’s face contorts with tears, but still he smiles.

“I want better for you - for all of us - than having to live in fear all the time. I want you to want for more than my companionship. I want you to hope for things, to live for people other than me. I want you to know you’re not so worthless that you have to chase the love of someone who hurts you all the time.”

Trick shakes his head hard, tears running down his face. “He does love me.”

“I want you to find your babies again, if you can.”

“No, don’t talk about them!” cries Trick, letting go of Dok’s neck and falling back. “Stop it, Dok! My head hurts!”

“I think you do want for greater things, desperately so. I think you just pretend because you’re scared of things not staying the same. But Trick, no matter what happens, I’m here and I love you.”

“No, you’re wrong!” shouts Trick. “You’re wrong! There isn’t anything more than this for me! If you leave, if you all go, if Anti lets you escape - I’ll be alone! Don’t go! I just want you to stay. I just want everyone to stay. Stop talking about things beyond this. There’s nothing beyond this.”

“Then here we are,” says Dok, his voice raw. “But one way or another, whether or not things are changing, Blue and Red and Dapper are upstairs, about to get hurt, and it would be wrong of us not to try and help them. I’m going upstairs. Are you coming with me?”

bupine asked: trick, this is really serious. red, blue and dapper are in danger and you're anti's current favourite, so you could maybe try to help. please, trick. i know you're having fun and i'm sorry to have to intrude, but they're going to be really badly hurt. red especially. he took medicine for dapper to prevent him from going into a psychotic episode and anti's very, very angry. is there anything you can do?

“Does Dapper deserve to be without his medication? Can you call that right? Acceptable, appropriate? Do you think Red deserves to be hurt than for no other reason than that he tried to keep his youngest brother healthy?”

Trick turns away from him, shaking his head, rubbing at his temples.

Dok turns his eyes away and steps through the door.

Trick’s hand is on his wrist again, stopping him.

Anonymous asked: Henrik, stay here please. It's safer for Trick to go, yeah? Trick will help them.

“I’ll go,” says Trick. “If you stay.”

Dok’s tongue flicks out to wet his tongue. “You promise me you will try to help?”

“I promise,” says Trick. “On my life.”

He touches his hand to Dok’s chest, above his beating heart.

“On my life.”

Anonymous asked: trick, i'm worried. i know you want dok safe and protected, but you deserve to be protected too. you deserve to not hurt. and i'm worried anti will hurt you, either physically because he doesn't want you to try to help or by hynotizing you again, really badly. he's already the reason it's so hard to keep your thoughts sometimes, and to imagine better things for yourself. if you and dok are together, you can have each other's backs. your safety is not less important than dok's.

“Well, theirs isn’t worth less than mine either,” says Trick, heading up the stairs. “So if I can share the pain with them a little, or at least make it less, I will try. Or we just all get hurt. But sometimes you die with your friends instead of running away, yeah? Let Dok be Marius and I’ll be that loyal drunk-ass Grantaire. Cause you know, Grantaire didn’t ever give a damn about the revolution, not really. He just loved his friends that much. Deutsch loves that book, you know. He loves a lot of books. Nerd. I had to make him stop reading Hamlet so much, once… he would whisper the lines to Horatio when he thought I was sleeping. Had them memorized. Had the whole thing memorized. Horatio, I am killed… ah, let Dok be Horatio for a hot minute, and the rest of us all go down in pointless sword fights. But not pointless, either. Not pointless. Or that’s what Dok said.”

cest-mellow asked: thank you trick. but. please hurry.

Upstairs, Anti is already wearing Blue’s body, and any fatigue he had seems to have fallen away - to be remembered, of course, next morning, with interest added. He has Red in the bathroom upstairs, the rosey one that stinks of lotions and bathbombs, holding him over the tub to let the blood fill it up, the tub stoppered and filling with dark lines of venomously dark crimson, the lot of Dapper’s white pills scattered along the porcelain floor. Red bleeds from a deep cut in his throat, his eyes closed, his face silent. He has always survived like this - sitting as quiet as he can, not protesting, waiting for Anti’s rage to blow over. It’s the closest thing to safety he can have right now. He knows that through long years of experience.

In his head, he’s far away. Dermot Kennedy is playing. Max’s hands are at his waist. There’s still the pain, and the sticky sensations of blood and skin against his own, but they’re more bearable with the image of Max in front of him, smiling at him, swaying. He leans close and whispers something Red can’t hear. Ro tastes Starbursts.

“You think you’re better than me?” shrieks Anti, scratching Blue’s white nails down the cut in Red’s throat. “Cause he made you so perfect? You think you can disobey me? I’m the one in control now, Jackie! I’m the one who won! You’re nothing! Look at you! Pathetic! Lying there as I bleed you. I’ll teach you to try and undermine me, to try and hurt me. You’re never pulling that hero shit again. Fucking traitor. You belong to me, not him! You’re never making me mortal again!”

Dapper is slumped against the bathroom floor, unmoving, his eyes closed, a yellow bruise appearing on the whole left side of his face.

Anonymous asked: Okay. Thank you, Trick. We'll be with you, bud.

Warm arms wrap around Anti’s shoulders, pinning his arms to his chest for a second. He whirls, snarling - and Trick’s eyes, unhappy and scared, look back at him.

Jack’s eyes.

“You gotta stop, man,” says Trick, and that’s all. “You gotta stop, like, yesterday.”

Anonymous asked: Anti stop it. Dapper had nothing to do with it first of all. Second, what good is possibly going to come from torturing your two strongest when you're playing games with Dark? You're just handicapping yourself by injuring Dap or Red. Plus, it'll drive them away, make it easier for Dark to worm their way in because they have a hatred for you already.

Anti grinds his teeth so hard you do, in fact, see one fall apart. He regrows it as a fang, a deep growl thriving in his chest.

“You shut the fuck up,” he hisses. “And you get off me. Right now, Trick.”

Trick shivers, but doesn’t let go. He hides his face between Anti’s shoulder-blades, whimpering.

Anonymous asked: Anti, please leave Red be. I know you want him to suffer, and to punish him for what he did, but this could easily kill him. At least, if you will not stop, do something else to hurt him? This is going to seriously damage him, and I don't know how long it's already been happening.

“I - I wouldn’t kill him,” protests Anti in a snarl.

“You can be a little out of control sometimes,” mumbles Trick against his back. “You could.”

“Well, if I did…” Anti trails off, looking down at Dap, unconscious at his feet. No turning back til he wakes up.

Anonymous asked: please, anti?

“Please,” snarls Anti. “Please, they say. As if that… as if… please, they say. Huh.”

But his voice is getting weak and he knows it, so he shuts himself up. For a moment, there’s just Anti with his eyes closed, and Trick rubbing his hands into the muscles of his back, just like Dok always did for him. Anti leans back slightly, his head faltering onto Trick’s shoulder.

“You did used to just say that, when I was scaring you,” he says. “Like you had nothing else to say.”

Trick doesn’t know what he means. He just stands there, massaging his back. He lets one of his hands intertwine with Anti’s hair, hoping to keep him in place.

Anonymous asked: Blood loss is a dangerous thing, Anti. Red might end up struggling somewhat to survive, and he's one of your strongest. I know you wouldn't purposefully kill him, but you might not catch yourself until too late.

“You have to be careful,” agrees Trick quietly. “I don’t think this is what you meant by force.”

Anti stares down at his hands for a second, riddled in blood. He has cut throats too deeply before in the past. And he wasn’t able to amend for that.

He just wanted to feel that Red was as weak as he sometimes feels. Being weaker than Red is not an option. Not again. Never again.

But at least he has his little brother under his heel. Anti rubs distractedly at Trick’s waist, panting harshly in the cold emptiness of the bathroom.

Anonymous asked: Come on, Anti. Let's let Dok bandage Red up now, and he'll most likely survive, okay? Red has suffered enough for what he did. You beat him, yeah? Let Dok help him now.

“No, no,” growls Anti, shaking out his head, stepping away from Trick a little. “No. You don’t have any control over me. Any. You or you.”

He turns and gives Trick a dark look. His little brother makes his posture small and re-buries himself in Anti’s back, hugging him around his waist. Anti fumes, torn. Now that he’s stopped he’s a little worried that Dapper hasn’t woken up. Did he drop him that hard?

No! He shakes it off again, snarling and biting his teeth at nothing at all, because he sees threats everywhere and always, and any amount of control shared is weakness to him.

“I’ll get chain. Stay here.”

“No, please, Anti, please. Let Dok see them. And let Blue go, please.”

“Trick,” he warns, voice low and dangerous.

Anonymous asked: No one is trying to control you right now, Anti. We're scared, we're the weak ones begging at you to just not kill them. To just not hinder your assets like this. No one is trying to control you, we are literally simpering and grovelling.

Anti stares at you for a second.

Then he laughs, shaking his head, and suddenly he just looks bewildered and tired and maybe a little younger than he did a moment ago.

“I don’t… get it?” he laughs. “I don’t… I… you never stop trying to help? Fuck’s sake, I had thought you would all fall off, one by one, as you realized you couldn’t do anything. But fuck, you’ll do anything for them. What the hell? It was going to be my last little defeat over you. Not just that you lost them, not just that Jack’s story stopped. You walking away from it - giving up on them - moving on? That would have been the sweetest victory. But you never do quite go. I don’t get it…”

He drops his knife on the ground, shaking his head.

Dapper and Red said that maybe, with the timeline broken, only the people who really loved them could still remember who they are.

What does that make you?

Anonymous asked: Anti, we're asking you because you have all the control here. We don't. We're asking to let Red be helped, because we're very worried about him, but we can't do anything if you say no. I just think that Red might die if you don't let him be helped.

“But I can’t just let them go, no way,” says Anti, shaking his head and sighing. “They still gotta learn their lessons - and you pansies never like to let them sit with a little well-deserved pain. I’ll go get chain and I’ll look after them myself. Trick, don’t go anywhere. You can be a little shit too, don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

Anti paces off, running a shaky hand through his wild green hair.

Trick falls to his knees at his big brother’s side, taking Red’s face between his hands and trying to lift him up without hurting him worse. The wound bleeds heavy, but it isn’t as deep as it could be. Trick feels carefully around the cut and knows that it won’t be fatal. Dok taught him how to check. How to look after them.

“Oh, Ro, fuck, it must hurt like crazy. Are you okay? Are you with me?”

Red smiles faintly, eyes still closed. Max is kissing the side of his hair.

“I’m with you,” he whispers.

pine-storm-season asked: Anti, can you at least let Dok or someone bandage the cut on his throat? It'll still hurt just as bad, but it'll stop bleeding.

Trick tears his shirt apart without hesitation, tying the closest approximation to bandages he has without leaving this bathroom.

“Won’t be perfect, but it might slow it down a little,” he soothes.

“Ohh, no, Trick, please, I’d rather have the pain than a tight collar. I hate things rubbing against me that tight.”

Trick winces. “You might not like what Anti’s got planned for you, buddy.”

“Just check on Dap, I can take the rest…”

pine-storm-season asked: Red, hang on, buddy. You'll be okay, yeah? You'll be okay. Can we help you with anything, Red?

“I’m good, I’m good, I’m bleeding, what else do you want from me?”

Anonymous asked: ohh, man, well done trick. scary as shit. i'm glad you're okay. itll mean a lot to them that you're there and watching over them how you can, thank you.

“I don’t know that I did much at all,” says Trick. “But I think things could have been a lot worse.”

Anonymous asked: Have you noticed some of us haven't given up on /you/ either, Anti? We always mediate and try to calm you when you rage because some of us haven't given up on you either. Always searching for good somewhere in that sewage pit heart heh.

“Awww! So stupid of you!” He shape-shifts his pupils into sweet black hearts and then rolls his eyes.

pine-storm-season asked: We just want to help. Is there anything Trick can do to fix the makeshift bandages on your throat, Red?

“He, um. He put them on me! They are there and slowing down the blood loss. But if you have any ideas - ” He coughs as his voice breaks. “I am open to them. Fuck, I think I better sign.”

pine-storm-season asked: When Anti comes back, we can try to convince him to let someone bandage your throat properly. And we can talk to you unless Anti takes the cameras. Does that sound alright, Red?

“Okay, buddy,” he signs, giving you a fragile grin.

Anonymous asked: i guess just take deep breaths for now, red, buddy. keep moving that oxygen around. try not to move a lot, and focus on keeping calm. uhhh as much as you can. because, granted, shit's fucked atm

“In my family, when is shit unfucked?”

“Lie still,” begs Trick. “Come on, man.”

But the reality of what happened is beginning to hit Red. He leans back against the tub, eyes welling, and sighs as he tries to stay calm.

Anonymous asked: Feckin A+ with the heart-eyes-motherfucker move, mr. sewage pit. 10/10.

“Thanks,” answers Anti testily, taking thin chain from the drawer beside his bed.

Anonymous asked: things definitely wouldve gone way worse if you hadn't come, tricksy. you came up here to help, that's so huge. and you helped calm anti down a little, kept his focus away from them for a bit. you did a lot, trick. i'm sorry the burden was put on your shoulders but you handled it as well as you could, and i'm really really happy you didnt get hurt

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I should have… I should have come sooner, but…”

He turns away from you, shaking his head. Not ready to talk about it.

cest-mellow asked: dapper? are you awake too?

“No, he’s out,” mumbles Trick, touching his little brother’s neck for a pulse. “Oh, tell me he didn’t…”

Turning Dapper onto his side does not make things look better. He kicked him, curled up there against the floor, until Dapper could barely breathe, and then slammed him down against the ground. Dapper is bruised black and blue, his whole body looking small and fragile, and the gash in his wrist has come open and bleeds slowly against the floor. Trick pulls his little brother to his body, hot shame washing over him. He should have come up sooner. He wasn’t going to come at all. He could have killed him. What does Anti know about ribs piercing lungs and head trauma? He reaches down to begin re-wrapping Dapper’s wrist, but then Anti is back, silver in his hands.

Anonymous asked: All this screaming about traitors and sneaks sure does make you seem... weak, honestly. Like you don't even trust that your own strings are still wrapped tight. Like come on Anti, this is the smallest ""betrayal"" that I could possibly imagine and you're having a temper-tantrum. It's okay man, chill down just a bit.

Anti’s face draws back in a snarl - an expression that is fast becoming his norm. His nails dig into his palms as he glares at you, drawing his own blood.

Anonymous asked: Heads up for a bit of maybe-too-soon humor, Red, but last time I gave blood, I got to eat starbursts after to keep my blood sugar good! So, once you all get out of this, I'll owe you some starbursts. You can eat all the pink and red ones but I demand the orange. And Max gets stuck with the yellow ones 'cause he didn't get his throat slit and he can deal with it. Very exclusive club of blood-losers-getting-yummy-candy.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Red whispers before Anti kicks the camera away from him, scowling. You sit across the room, spun around to look back at the tub where Red is lying, coughing.

Anonymous asked: Anti, dude, are you literally so paranoid and overdramatic that Red just getting some pills for him counts as "working against you" in your brain? Calm down, man, you're making yourself look weak.

“I’ll show you goddamn ‘weak,’” hisses Anti, grabbing Red by the hair and dragging him up, to his feet, shoving him down in the tub.

“Anti!” begs Trick, but his brother ignores him. He wraps the chain tight, tight, tight around Red shoulders and legs and shoves the other side against the metal of the tub faucet, using Blue’s fire to melt the two together, chaining Red securely to the tub. Red is crying by now despite a firm, defiant smile on his mouth, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. Anti huffs out a bitter laugh and shoves his head before turning to get Dapper too.

“Don’t chain him in there, come on.”

Anti shoves Dapper’s body against Red and ties him into the chains. For a moment, Dapper, disturbed by the movement, awakens and looks dazedly up at his brother, wondering if this is real - he’s never been tied up with anything more than a little rope for as long as he can remember, and Anti hasn’t done much more than slap him around a little or, once, toss him down the stairs since his snap. Usually he’s too scared to do anything more than that. Dapper feels a thrill of alarm. Anti’s fear of Dapper snapping has finally been out-weighed by his fear of losing control over him.

“What?” bites Anti, slapping him. Dapper jolts and shivers, sinking down against Red’s body, letting himself fade away again inside the belly of the bathtub.

scunneredzombie asked: Anti, please be careful with the chains on Dapper... He could potentially have cracked ribs that could puncture his lungs with any excess pressure and kill him, and with that level of head trauma something could be seriously wrong. All I ask is that you let him see dok soon as you feel... okay with that. He could die from this, and there would be no way to fix it.

“It’s just around his neck,” sneers Anti, as if that makes things any better. He rises to his feet and beckons to Trick.

“You. Come with me.”

“Anti, I…”

“I said. Come with me. NOW, Trick.”

Trick hastens to his feet and, trembling, follows after him, casting one last look on his tired brothers, who have fallen quietly together, Dapper unconscious, Red weeping in silence, in pain.

Anonymous asked: yeah, i know, red. we can distract you, if you'd like. do you want us to do that, or to just leave you with trick?

“I… I think,” says Ro, his voice whimpering. “Um. I think I’m just going to take a nap, if that’s okay. I don’t want to be awake right now.”

aether-mae asked: Red buddy, it’s best you do that with all the brothers (minus anti) for the best results. They all need it

Best you run with all his brothers, you mean.

Not just Blue. Not just a short trip to the hospital.

Take all your brothers and run.

Ro turns his head, his breathing struggling with quiet sobs no matter how quickly he tries to bite them down.

“I was just going to take Blue away for a few days,” he cries. “And then maybe come back, if he was okay. Or find a way to get him out of here and then come back myself, to keep looking after the others. The best way to protect them has always been to weather the storm, to weather as much of it for them as I can. Always. Always.”

He turns his head as best he can, coughing on his weak throat, and if he twists his body, he can see: bruises, black and yellow, bruises and blood from the open wrist of his little brother. Tears pour down his cheeks. He rocks himself carefully in the tub, trying not to cry out aloud. Pain and fear. Pain and fear.

That’s his brother.

That’s his lonely, brave, funny, disabled, beautiful, courageous, kind, deadly, perfect baby brother.

And Anti beat him til his whole body was one big bruise.

Jackie opens his mouth and lets himself cry loud and ferocious, tears making his face hot, sobs ripping from his ripped throat. His whole chest shakes with it. He cries so hard it hurts.

“JJ, I’m going to get you out of here,” swears Jackie, pressing their heads together. “My little brother, I promise. We’re all getting the fuck out of here, and we are never coming back.”

Anonymous asked: If you torture or hurt Trick (or Dok for that matter) for doing quite literally nothing but stopping you from killing your two strongest, then I hereby proclaim you have officially lost your gourds. You've won already tonight, Anti. You've won, and they are all hurting and weak. Let it rest.

“No, no, no,” purrs Anti, drawing Trick carefully into his bedroom and putting a hand on the back of his neck, stroking gently at his hair. “No, you stopped me before I did something stupid. That was probably good, huh?”

Relief washes over Trick. He nods eagerly, touching Anti’s arm. “Yeah, I just didn’t want you to hurt anybody!”

“Innocent enough for now,” says Anti, a little bit of a growl in his voice making Trick grovel politely a little, smiling sweetly up at Anti, like a kid embarrassed but also proud to have been caught doing something both clever and against the rules. “But let’s not pretend that you didn’t let the cameras and Dok talk you into this.”

Trick’s faux innocence - a trait he is learning much as Dapper once learned it - falls swiftly away, leaving him nervous and small. “Sorry, Anti.”

“It’s okay,” sighs Anti, stroking his hair. “It’s okay. But I can’t just let this… rift in you continue. You belong to me. Not to Dok. Not to them. To me.”

Trick nods quickly, pursing his mouth and stroking his fingers along the bend of Anti’s elbow. “Okay, master, yes. I’m sorry.”

“No worries, darling. I just want you to do something for me that’s going to be good for everyone involved, alright?”

“Oh?”

Anti smiles, humming. He leans forward, knocking their foreheads together, and looks Trick dead in the eyes.

“Get those necklaces off your twin in the next three days,” says Anti, sugar-sweet, his eyes drizzling to black. “Or I will murder him in his sleep and leave his corpse in the bed beside you.”

Trick freezes solid, eyes blown wide. He looks into Anti’s eyes and finds no lies.

Not this time.

“Okay, pumpkin?” chirps Anti, pulling back. “How’s that sound?”

Trick opens his mouth to protest - and then the power of Anti’s eyes drowns him, and he hears himself giggle without any reason to laugh, and feels himself lean eagerly forward, hugging Anti earnestly to his heart, his arms wrapping deliriously around him.

“There you go,” sighs Anti, sinking back onto the bed and bringing Trick with him, holding his warm body to his chest. “There’s my Jack.”

Anonymous asked: That's okay, Red, love. You sleep. We'll do our best to keep you safe.

And Red sleeps.

Pressed to his little brother. Chained up, cold, in that bloody bathtub, agonized more by the sensation of the chains than of the cut in his throat. But he dreams of Max and safety and his siblings, and that is all that matters.

Dapper, in his sleep, shifts closer to him.

You will do your best to keep them safe. You promised.

From this point on in the story, it will be possible to permanently lose major characters.

#chapter four

3 notes · View notes

calumcest · 4 years

Note

Ashton from your soulmate au when he finds the tattoo?

HMMMMMMMM having THOUGHTS

It’s one of those things where everyone remembers where they were when they found out.

Ashton had been in the studio, bleary-eyed and sleepy, rubbing at his eyes as he mumbled a hello to Reg, who looked far too happy for a Thursday morning, and made to head into the live room.

“What’s yours, then?” Reg had asked, and Ashton had paused, hand on the door, trying to figure out whether he’d somehow missed the start to this conversation.

“Eh?” was all he’d managed to come up with.

“Your tattoo.” Ashton had frowned, casting a glance down at his forearms to see the moons, the tally, the heart.

“Reg, you’ve seen my tattoos,” he’d said, bewildered. Reg had rolled his eyes.

“No, the new one,” he’d said.

“The moons?” Ashton had asked, holding his forearms out.

“The one you got last night.” Ashton’s frown had just deepened.

“Mate, are you alright?” he’d said, a little alarmed. “Think I’d remember getting a tattoo last night.”

“Have you not been on your fucking phone?” Reg had said, frowning at him, and Ashton had shook his head. He never goes on his phone before midday. Cleanses the mind, he thinks. “Fucking hell,” Reg had said, and had pulled something up on his phone and thrust it in Ashton’s face.

Mysterious tattoos appearing all over Australia, Ashton had read. And then read again. And then re-read a third time.

“Is this the Onion?” he’d asked, handing Reg’s phone back. Reg had sighed, exasperated, and pulled up his sleeve to show Ashton a brand new tattoo of two half-full test tubes on his forearm, ink crisp and dark on Reg’s skin.

“Fuck’s that meant to be?” Ashton had asked. Reg had shrugged.

“Not a clue, mate,” he’d said. “Everyone’s got one, though. People think they’re meant to be your soulmate.” Ashton’s stomach had flipped at that, a blonde-haired, blue-eyed face forcing its way into the forefront of his mind. He’d stared down at his hands exaggeratedly, frowning, turning them this way and that, looked down at his shins just in case.

“Well, I haven’t got one,” he’d declared flippantly, and turned to head back into the live room, at which point Reg had gasped.

“Yeah, you do,” he’d said, and Ashton had whipped back around at the speed of fucking light, twisting to look at his hips, his arse, anywhere Reg could have seen a fucking tattoo.

“Where?” he’d asked, heart beating wildly, because he’s wearing a shirt and shorts, and he can’t see anything on his hamstring. Reg had pointed, which was fucking useless since pointing’s not exactly the finest art, and Ashton had snapped fucking where, mate? at him once more before Reg had leaned forward and tapped on Ashton’s tricep.

“Can’t see it properly,” Ashton had grunted. Easier than saying I don’t want to see it. Don’t want to know.

“Here,” Reg had said, pulling his phone out again, and Ashton had pulled back.

“Nah,” he’d said. “Don’t want to see it for the first time on a photo.” Reg had cocked an eyebrow at him, hesitated for a moment, but then nodded and put his phone away.

“Well, fucking get on with it, then,” he’d said, and Ashton had smiled uneasily, and it had dropped off his face the minute he’d turned on his heel and headed into the live room.

-------

Ashton’s never really given the idea of soulmates much thought.

He’d always believed in it on some level, he thinks - maybe not that there’s one person, but that there are multiple who are perfect fits - until he’d met Luke.

Luke had been a fucking whirlwind. Three years of Ashton’s life, and he remembers every fucking moment of them more vividly than he remembers any before, or any since. He remembers the exact hue of blue of Luke’s eyes, the way they’d crinkle when he grinned, the way they’d well with tears when they watched a sad film, the way he’d burrow into Ashton’s chest and wrap his arm around Ashton’s waist and pull, and the way that Ashton’s heart would fucking sing in response. At first, Ashton had told himself it was just a particularly intense honeymoon stage. He’d read online that honeymoon stages could last up to two years, especially if it was long distance, and given that he was away for weeks at a time recording, he told himself that was all it was. The magnetic fucking pull of Luke Hemmings was just an intense honeymoon phase, just something Ashton knew all to well but had never experienced on this level.

After two years, though, it didn’t abate. In fact, it got worse.

Ashton would start to feel a little unwell if he stayed away from Luke for too long. Never to the point of actual illness, but it felt like there was something spiritually wrong, like his soul was misaligned. He told himself it was just love, normal love, but he knew it wasn’t. There was something stronger at play, and it fucking terrified him. Something told him he was going to spend the rest of his life tied to Luke, and he’d pushed back, said no, he’d only ever spend the rest of his life tied to himself. Luke could come along for the ride, but he wouldn’t be the ride.

For the first week, he does nothing but read theories online - doesn’t look at his tattoo, doesn’t talk about his tattoo, doesn’t let anyone else talk about his tattoo - and he feels that same cosmic misalignment again. It’s never gone, not really, but he’s got better at managing it, at numbing it. He never feels quite right, but he never feels all wrong nowadays, either. The theories, though, bring it back in full swing. He spends hours lying in bed, feeling spiritually queasy, after reading article after article about how they might be soulmate markings and thinking fuck, fuck, fuck, because it doesn’t feel wrong when he reads it. It feels anything but fucking wrong, and no matter how much he wills himself to make it feel wrong, his heart sternly tells his mind no, not this time.

It’s a full week before he can bring himself to look at it, and even then it’s only with a buffer.

He gets to the studio early, knowing Reg’ll be there, and before Reg even has a chance to say anything, before Ashton has a chance to bottle it and go along with Reg’s conversation, he forces himself to speak.

“Can you look at my tattoo for me?” A look of surprise crosses Reg’s face, and Ashton kind of wants to fucking die.

“Sure,” Reg says, and he gets up and stands behind Ashton, touching his tricep gently. Ashton can feel something strong when his fingers brush over Ashton’s tattoo, and he’s not sure whether it’s a good or a bad sensation.

“I don’t really know how to describe it, mate,” Reg says, letting Ashton’s arm drop. “It’s a microphone with daisies wrapped around it.”

“Can you take a picture?” Ashton asks, voice small, and Reg nods, sliding his phone out of his pocket, and there’s the sound of a camera shutter and then the phone is being held in front of Ashton.

Ashton never thought he’d be able to pinpoint the moment his world fell apart, but then again, he never thought he’d be marked as Luke Hemmings’s either.

A microphone, Reg had said. But he hadn’t said an old-fashioned one, just like the one Luke has (or had?) stashed away in the corner of his bedroom, that he’d stopped using years and years ago, that Ashton had only ever seen in his hands once, when he’d thought Ashton was out for the day. He’d been tentatively singing a song, soft and quiet, like he couldn’t trust the notes to come out right, the words not to trip on their way out of his lips. Ashton had stood there, bedroom door open just a crack, absolutely fucking mesmerised. He’d known, then, that Luke had been it for him, and he’d nearly buckled under the weight of the fear that accompanied that fleeting thought.

(Two days later, he’d called Luke from a phone box in California. Three minutes was all it had taken.)

“Fuck,” he says, and puts a hand on Reg’s mixing board to steady himself, because, well, fuck.

“Mate, are you alright?” Reg says, alarmed. Ashton barely even registers it, too busy seeing the beautiful, delicate little daisies wrapped in a chain around the microphone, each one too beautiful for the pain they represent. The blades are sharp, pointed, and Ashton vaguely wonders if there’s some kind of twisted symbolism in that.

“You really fucking think they’re soulmate tattoos?” he’d managed to grit out.

“Dunno,” Reg had said, still sounding a little unnerved.

“You know who yours is about?”

“I- no,” Reg had said. “Do you really think they’re- are you- is it about someone?” Ashton had swallowed back bile, and nodded.

“My ex.”

-------

It had taken five weeks for Ashton to get the answer to the question he’d been dying to ask the minute he’d managed to process what the tattoo was, and what it might represent.

Ashton had spent those five weeks breaking his no-phone-after-ten-and-before-midday rule day in, day out, picking it up and putting it down, typing out messages and erasing them again. It didn’t matter whether or not Luke had Ashton, he told himself, because Ashton had severed any chances they had at reuniting. Luke was probably in a new relationship. Luke probably didn’t even remember Ashton. Luke had definitely deleted his number. But then, if Luke had deleted his number, it wouldn’t hurt to text, would it? No, he shouldn’t. On the off chance that he hadn’t, his response might hurt Ashton too much. But then again, was he just telling himself that so he wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of his actions? Running, the same way he’d been running for the past two years?

In the end, the decision is taken from him.

He’s in the studio again, breaking another one of his rules - no phones in the studio - twirling his sticks in his hands, bored, while Reg and Jasmine hammer something about the bass out. At first, he thinks he’s imagined it, the rapid buzzing in his back pocket, because he doesn’t bring his phone into the studio - maybe the construction work outside is louder than he’d thought - before he remembers shit, he had brought his phone into the studio, and pulls it out.

Luke What’s yours?

Ashton’s heart lurches, and his stomach drops, reading and re-reading the two words.

What’s yours?

It feels surreal to see Luke’s name in a notification again. Ashton had meant to delete it, but had only got as far as deleting the stupid nickname he’d given Luke, changing it to Luke Hemmings, and then deleting his surname, because it feels too formal and there’ll only ever be one Luke to him, no matter how many he meets. It’s a moment he’s dreamed of, daydreamed of, fantasised about, but not like this. Not so stilted, so cold, so distant. Luke hadn’t even said hello.

But Luke wouldn’t have asked, surely, had his tattoo not been Ashton? There would have been no need, Ashton thinks, phone slipping down in his sweaty palms, catching it with one hand while he wipes the other on his shorts. Luke would never have thought to ask Ashton otherwise. But he’d taken five weeks to ask, so maybe it was just curiosity? Maybe he couldn’t figure his out, and was running through a long list, and Ashton was near the bottom?

“Ash?” Jasmine calls, and Ashton looks up, wild-eyed, and she frowns at him. “Are you alright?”

“What?” his voice is hoarse, and he clears his throat, but it just hurts his dry mouth. “Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Give me...” he trails off, staring down at his phone again.

“Take five?” Reg suggests, and everyone nods. Ashton barely even registers it, reading the two words again.

What’s yours?

Should he lie? Maybe it’d be easier, for everybody involved, if he pretends it’s not Luke. They can both go their own ways and find someone else to love. There are seven billion people in the world, after all, and some of them don’t have tattoos. They could do it.

But, the selfish little voice in his mind says, you don’t want that. You don’t want Luke with anyone else. You want him for yourself.

And that’s true, it is, but even though it hurts every fucking fibre of his being, Ashton doesn’t think he can make Luke happy, and that’s what he wants more than anything. More, even, he tells himself, than he wants Luke to be happy with him.

Me I don’t know.

Me Not sure, actually. What’s yours?

Me Hey, man, hope you’re good

Me It’s my friend

It all feels wrong. Something in Ashton’s gut, something he’d only ever felt with Luke, tugs uncomfortably, telling him no, don’t lie. You need to tell him the truth.

So he tries.

Me Hi. I’m sorry for how everything ended. I wonder if we could speak on the phone at some point? It feels too impersonal over text. My tattoo is you, but that doesn’t surprise me. I’m not sure if you’ve seen, but people think they might be soulmate tattoos. I’ve seen a lot of different theories, but those are the only ones that seem to make sense. I’m sorry. For everything. I still love you.

It’s too much, and it’s too late, and it’s not enough, and Ashton can never fucking be enough for Luke Hemmings. No one could ever compete with that fucking supernova, but fuck if Ashton doesn’t want to try and be a star teetering on the brink of Luke’s event horizon.

Ashton’s backspacing before he even realises, typing two words before he can second-guess himself.

Me It’s you.

#lashton #drabbles #soulmate au #this required me going back and checking through the soulmate au #command + f 'tattoo' [skip through 3823 results]#actually fun fact there are 98 mentions of the wrod tattoo if you include authors notes #Anonymous #helen answers #ive sat on this one for ages #i dont like it but i feel like...its written #i dont like anything ive written nothing new #but this is like.........even more than usual #which is why its been in my drafts for ages but like #dunno what would i do with it rewrite the whole thing? avin a laff i'm too lazy for that #might fuck about and delete it but for now here it is

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wen-kexing-apologist · 7 years

Text

All Things Left Unsaid

Read on AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11190072

If Alec thought his experiences with Valentine in the past had been bad, the aftermath of the switch paled in comparison. Alec hadn’t ever been sure that hate could live in his heart, but now he wished he were immortal so he could imagine himself stabbing Valentine– and Azazel, for that matter –through the heart and watching the life leave their eyes for all of eternity for what they had done to Magnus.

Magnus, who was barely holding on. Magnus, who was barely keeping it together. Magnus, who had found himself chained up, tortured, and abused at the hand of people he had trusted. The reunion had been full of tears and whispered apologies, sharing space and washing away all evidence of the foreign body that had lived inside of him. And it sure as hell hadn’t been enough to stop the pain from wrapping its tendrils around Magnus and locking him in place. Alec had tried everything he could to help, but he had shown Magnus the monster that he was, he had shown Magnus the anger that coursed through his veins, the violence that he could do with his bare hands. And every time Alec stepped through Magnus’ door after a missed text, or ignored phone call, he could see another piece of Magnus’ soul had slipped away.

It was a strange feeling for Alec, the guilt that bubbled up to the surface every time he left Magnus alone. In an apartment that no longer felt like a home, in a body that no longer felt like his. And yet, the hurt the both of them felt, how Magnus needed Alec near him, but at the same time kept pushing him away, kept opening the door for Alec to find him ten whiskey’s in and wobbling. How Magnus would beg him to stay the night, spend it crying into Alec’s shoulder until they both fell asleep, how he would wake up to the sound of Magnus’ screams, how Magnus would dream about Alec, fists wrapped around the collar of his shirt, eyes full of hatred and disbelief, and nothing else. How Alec would spend the rest of the night wide awake and leaning against Magnus’ front door, waiting for Magnus to ride out the trauma, and let him back in, because Alec had failed. Failed to comfort, failed to believe, failed to trust that the words coming out of Valentine’s mouth had not been his own. That the way Magnus had been acting, was strange and unusual, and that Magnus hadn’t been mad at him. Alec had failed to know straight away that something was horribly, terribly wrong. And Magnus had suffered the consequences of his utter stupidity.

Magnus had been tortured by the Clave, by Alec’s people. Magnus had been forced to share intimate details of his life, just to convince his captors that everything he was saying was true. Magnus had been trapped in the body of a man that wanted every single one of his kind dead. Of the man that had toyed with Dot, and tricked Madzie into murder, that had experimented on Joselyn and Clary, and Jace. Of the man that had ruined a million lives, and still felt justified in his cause. And it had been Alec’s fault. Because he jumped to conclusions about Izzy, because he didn’t think about how powerful Azazel could be. And now, here he was, once again, slamming tired fists against Magnus’ front door, at three o’ clock in the morning, begging, pleading for Magnus to let him back in. For Magnus to just fucking talk to him.

“Magnus, please,” Alec sobbed through the door “Please, just talk to me!”

“Get out!” Magnus’ panicked voice replied.

“Magnus, you can’t keep going like this,” Alec knocked on the door again “Baby, please,”

“Go away, Alec, I can’t even look at you right now,” Magnus’ voice carried the weight of a thousand years.

“Then don’t look at me,” Alec shot back “I’ll stay right here, right behind the door, I just need you to listen,”

“I don’t know if I can.” Magnus’ voice was heartbroken “I just need to be alone right now,” Alec could hear footsteps beginning to retreat.

“Wait! Mags!” He clawed desperately at the door. “Mags, please, please, come back,” the footsteps stopped, and Alec finally felt like he could breathe “I’m sorry,” he breathed “I’m so so sorry. For everything, for screwing up, for not getting you out of there sooner. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, for what that monster did to you, for what I did to you, but you cannot keep pretending like you're okay. No matter how hard you try, a little makeup, and some alcohol won’t fix this. Please just, just talk to me.”

“Why? You’re a Shadowhunter, Alec, you will never understand how horrible it was, being trapped inside the body of a man that has slaughtered my people.”

“Right now, I’m not a Shadowhunter,” Alec said calmly. “Right now, I’m Alexander, your boyfriend, the man you love. And I’m worried about you. I feel like I’m watching you die, slowly, a little bit more every day, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it. You need help, Magnus. And if you don’t want it from me, if you don’t trust me with it, that’s fine. But you need to talk to someone, love, to Raphael, to Dot, hell, go to a mundane psychologist. Because I can’t lose you, Magnus, and every time I leave, I’m terrified of what I’ll come back to…Mags,” Alec rested his forehead against the door “You can’t do this alone, and you don’t have to. You told me once, not to push you away when things got hard, and to come to you if things ever got bad enough to make me want to die. Baby, you can’t get through this by yourself, and if you keep pushing me away, we’ll never recover. And I know-“ Alec’s voice broke, and he sucked in a shaky breath “I know I was the one that hurt you, and I know it must be hard to even look at me right now. And it’s killing me Mags to…to see you so broken, and not know how to fix it. I might not know how horrible it was, what happened to you. But I know how it burns when I touch you, when I hold your hand, or I hug you, because I know that I caused you pain. And I know that we need to talk about this, no matter what happens, whether you never want to see me again, because carrying this weight around? It’ll only make you drown. Now, I’ll go, if that’s what you really want, if that’s what will help you get better. But if you feel like you might want to talk, I’m all ears, okay? And if you need some time to think, I’ll wait right here until you tell me what you want me to do. I just want you to know that I am here for you.”

Alec fell silent, and even with his runes, he could hear no sound from the other side of the door. Alec took a step back, trying to stave off disappointment as the seconds ticked by and the world remained still. If Alec hadn’t already been crying, he would have burst in to tears when the door creaked open slightly. Alec walked back into the apartment slowly, following Magnus to the couch, Alec stayed standing for a moment, hesitant and unsure, just as he had been the first night Magnus was back in his own body. Magnus patted the couch, and Alec took that as permission to sit, although he maintained as much distance as possible, wedging himself into the corner.

“I want to forgive you,” Magnus blurted out “I’ve been running it over and over in my head, and I know that I would have reacted the same. I know that I would have had a hard time believing it happened, if I hadn’t gone through it myself. It’s just…” Tears welled up in Magnus’ eyes, and he shut them tight, wrapping his arms around himself to keep himself grounded ”Every time I close my eyes, I can feel you tying me down in that chair, I can feel the breath being knocked out of me when you slammed me against the wall, I can see you walking away while Imogen Herondale presses a knife to my throat, and it makes me feel sick,”

“I know,”

“And it’s…it’s so hard, because when I’m alone, it’s like I’m right back in that prison cell, and when you’re around I can breathe again. But at the same time I’m fighting the panic and the fear that’s burrowed its way into the back of my head. And I don’t know how to reconcile that. Not yet, at least.” Magnus wrung his hands “And I know that I’m overreacting, every time I’ve kicked you out in the middle of the night. But every day I think that it’s getting easier, and every night your face is the one I see the most in my dreams, and the fear comes to the surface before I can wrestle it back down. And the pain…Alec, it was unbearable, and unrelenting.”

Alec bit his lip, pushing back the urge to tell Magnus how many times in the past week he’d thought about drawing that Agony rune on himself.

“I had to relive my mother’s suicide, Alexander. I could feel her blood on my hands.”

“Oh God,” the guilt that washed over Alec, hit him like a truck, even sitting down he thought he might fall over from the weight of it. “Magnus, I-“

“Don’t, Alec, it’s not your fault,”

“I’m just…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I wish that I could take the pain away,”

“I don’t,” Magnus chuckled darkly, just as surprised as Alec at his answer “Without that pain, right now…I’d just be numb.”

“C-Can I hold your hand?” Alec asked, relieved when Magnus nodded, resting his palm upwards in the space between them. Alec slid closer, angling his body so he could look fully in Magnus’ eyes. He entwined their fingers, tracing his thumb along Magnus’ “Magnus, for what it’s worth, I will try my hardest every day, never to hurt you again. I am so deeply sorry for everything that you went through, and I just want you to know I’ll be here for everything you want to tell me. Everything you need to say, just say it. And I think in the morning…maybe you should go see a therapist, because some of this doesn’t seem like stuff you can work through on your own.”

“I’m just so tired of feeling powerless,” and Alec had to fight to keep his hand from moving to brush away the tears on Magnus’ cheek.

Instead, he gave Magnus’ hand a gentle squeeze “I know,”

They stayed like that, sitting on the couch, hand-in hand, alternating between an ever calming silence, and Magnus letting his pain out into the open, until Magnus’ eyelids grew heavy, and he fell asleep in Alec’s lap.

#malec #malec fic #malec fanfiction #sh #shadowhunters #shadowhunters fanfiction #shadowhunters fic #sh fic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #alexander lightwood #MyFics

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