[It's another rough day. They've been getting so much more frequent lately that he's starting to think that something is coming. Every time it seems like he has an important due date or a busy day at work, he starts to feel that subtle burning, a reminder that no matter how hard he tries to live his own life, he's still not his own person, he'll always be at the beck and call of someone else.
Today is no different. He barely got through his lab midterm before the pain got to be too much, a burning stinging sensation all over his skin, not enough to be excruciating but just enough that thinking about anything else is nearly impossible. By the time he gets home, he's ready to crawl into bed. He knows he has homework to do but it will have to be postponed until he can think about something other than how much he wishes he could just cease to exist.
He's halfway down his hallway before he decides to go to Kevin's room instead. He's pretty sure it's a bad day for him as well because he hasn't gotten many responses to the messages he's sent him. He gives one single knock before he opens the door, dropping his backpack unceremoniously on the ground before walking over, kicking his shoes off and climbing into Kevin's bed, not even bothering to say hello before shoving his face into a pillow. Misery loves company, right? At least if they have to suffer, they aren't alone.]
[It's not a great day. The eldritch presence is his head is disarmingly loud, which always makes Kevin feel a little more fragile, a little closer to slipping away no matter how many times people tell him it can't happen. He's quiet partly because he's worried it won't be his own words if he opens his mouth.
He's not always thrilled about company in this kind of mood, but Emery's a little easier than most people. If only because he's closer to really getting it than most people. So he doesn't complain when he hears the brief knock, already aware of who it is when Emery doesn't bother announcing himself through the door.
It's darker in his room than it usually is, the heavy curtains drawn tight. He shifts onto his side slowly a minute after Emery lands on the bed, studying him in the dim light. He doesn't actually need to ask if everything's okay. It clearly isn't.]
Again? [A little bit of concern in his voice. It seems like there's been a lot of pain lately.]
Yeah. [Is the muffled response from the pillow, his head still firmly pressed into it. He doesn't really even want to turn but eventually he does, just moving his head to the side so he can look at Kevin, studying him for a moment to make sure he's okay. As much as he can see in the dark anyway.
He's not really sure what he expects to find, clearly neither of them are okay, just pawns on some demon's chessboard, expendable and small, what does it matter if they fall apart? There are probably hundreds more to replace them when they do. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to just breathe before asking Kevin a question of his own.]
Yeah. [His voice is soft, resigned. He doesn't say anything else. What else is there to say, really? Neither of them can get rid of this by talking about it.
He reaches out a little after a few moments, his hand landing next to Emery's on the bed -- close enough that the movement of the bed probably makes it clear that he's there, but not quite reaching out for him. He doesn't know how bad it is, doesn't want to make it worse. It's not like the contact's going to make anything better. It's just the only thing he's got to offer. He can't even claim it's going to be better. It'll get better, but it won't stay that way.]
[It takes him a bit of time, frustration and pain and sadness making him stay quiet and withdrawn, but eventually he uses Kevin's breathing to calm himself down. First just listening to it, counting how long it takes between every inhale and exhale. Then eventually he matches it to his own. It doesn't matter if it's fast or slow, it just gives him something else to concentrate on for long enough that he eventually relaxes. The pain still not gone, but at least a bit more manageable.
He reaches out to grab Kevin's hand once his breathing normalizes, giving it a small squeeze, talking quietly in the space between them.] I don't think he likes that I have my own life.
[His instinct is to hold on tight to anything close enough, tighter than is probably comfortable. He makes his grip relax after a second, frowning in the darkness, studying what he can make out of Emery's expression.] You think he's just trying to ruin everything else on you? [It makes a surprising amount of sense, actually. It'd give Emery more time to focus on his errands.]
I don't know what else he is doing. The last few times this has happened, I haven't even had tasks. [Either he wants Emery to be totally and completely at his whim or he is trying to regain control, but Emery hasn't done anything to make whoever believe he doesn't have control. He's still done everything he's asked, he's even been on time recently, now that he doesn't have to worry about losing his housing if he misses work, it's a lot easier to call out or go in late. He can't think of any other reason for being punished this way.]
[He can think of a couple other options, but none of them are even better. Might even be worse -- if he's just trying to break Emery down, doesn't need him anymore, then there's plenty to worry about. So he doesn't voice that thought, keeps quiet for a few moments -- and then a few more, eyes unfocused for a second as he tries to block out the voice in the back of his head, startling a little as he draws himself out of it.]
[He notices Kevin’s startle and moves his hand from within Kevin’s to rub at his arm instead, running it up and down, feeling bad that he hasn’t given much attention to the fact Kevin is also having a bad day.]
It’s fine. I’m sure he’s just mad or something. [He isn’t exactly shutting down the conversation, as much as pivoting to the more pressing issue.] What’s on your mind?
[The moment they get home, Emery feels the strong urge to go to Kevin's room. The feeling had been building since he got hurt but now that they are close, it is nearly unbearable. He forces it down though, not wanting to upset Professor Brooks by running off too quickly. He hopes that any distraction the professor notices is attributed to the day's events and not the fact that half of his brain is screaming Kevin's name.
Thankfully he isn't detained long and once he is released, he holds back from running up the stairs to get to their hallway. He should probably change his clothes, his shirt has blood on it from his nose and his lip and his pants are dirty from being in the holding cell, but he can't really be bothered. He doesn't even think about going into his room, making a beeline for Kevin's instead and not even bothering to knock, just pulling the door open once he gets there.
He wanted to ask if Kevin was okay, that's been the main focus in his mind. Every slam against the cop car, every shove into a wall, every time they made the handcuffs too tight, his thoughts went to Kevin who was likely lying on the bed, completely unaware of why he was suddenly feeling so much pain. But instead of words leaving his lips when he sees Kevin, he releases a small whine and all but collapses into his arms, holding onto him.
It's awkward because Emery has never been much of a hugger even before all of this, always feel a little too caged in when someone had their arms around him, but this hug is different, this is exactly what he needed. The shakiness of his limbs disappears the way his headache and the throbbing of his eye does. It's like instant pain relief, instant calm. Any residual fear or anxiety he has just getting washed away the moment Kevin's arms are around him. He'd be more embarrassed if it weren't for the fact he knows Kevin feels it too. And really, it's been a rough day. If there was ever a time to allow a little bit of affection, it would be now. He's used to dealing with the pain the demon doles out and he's used to being put in rough situations, but he wasn't expecting this. Without the professor he'd probably still be in that cell, just another kid that gets caught up in the system with no help and no way out. He's been trying hard not to think about it all day and now, with Kevin, it's finally easier to push aside. He's safe. He'll be okay.]
[One thing he's never heard anyone discuss about having soulmate is how it feels to be laying there, perfectly normal one moment, and feeling someone else's pain the next. The way it shocks the system, fight or flight, adrenaline rising to take care of something that could be miles away. Maybe it's just that most people with soulmates don't have the same fears of something else taking control. Or that they can probably contact them anytime, while Kevin tries to restrain himself, not wanting to interrupt in the middle of an errand, especially if it's going as badly as what he's feeling says it is. It doesn't feel like the all-over burning from the other day; this just feels like an old-fashioned beating. Which, at least he already knows how to handle those, and this one can't leave bruises on him.
The other thing he doesn't expect: the way even through the pain his mind immediately jumps to Emery, worry rising sharply with every phantom hit. Ask him before all this, he'd have assumed he'd be focused on taking care of himself, but instead he can't get the other off of his mind. Even once the new pains stop coming, he feels like he's going out of his mind with worry.
So it's two kinds of relief at once, when Emery walks in. The physical release from the pain suddenly lessening, going from a cacophony to a dull roar; and the mental release from seeing he's okay. Even seeing the damage, it still settles him immediately.
Consciously, he's not really expecting for Emery to practically fall onto him. Subconsciously, it's the only thing that makes sense, and Kevin's arms are around him without missing so much as a beat, the only natural response. A hand finds the back of his neck, skin on skin contact, the other arm keeping him close. The pain drains away, and nothing else seems to matter anymore -- everything's fine now.
He's quiet for a minute, just holding on tight, before he finally finds his voice.] So where's the truck that hit you?
[For a moment it's all he can do to hold on. Even though the response is immediate, the way his pain disappears and his worry lessens, for some reason it takes him a little longer to fully calm down, so he just holds on through it, while his body adjusts to feeling normal again, better than normal, to feeling good. His own arms around Kevin's waist, the tips of his fingers find space where Kevin's shirt is folded up to press against his skin. It's always better when there are no barriers between them. He doesn't really want to think about more than this, it's already overwhelming enough as it is.
He's grateful when Kevin speaks, cutting some of the tension with a joke. He huffs out a small laugh, more of a breath than anything else and responds.] Probably still at the police station, or trying to find some other poor kid to torture.
[He doesn't say innocent, because unfortunately he isn't innocent and if he's being honest with himself, he probably deserves what happened. It's what makes this most difficult. He's glad he's out of there, can't stand the thought of going back, but if he was genuinely asked, he'd have to agree that they were well within their rights to punish him for what he did.]
[It sends a little shiver through him, the fingers against his skin and the way the bond responds to it. You'd never know he was in pain maybe four minutes ago from the lax way he's practically melting into Emery, relaxed from the sheer amount of contact. He's almost, kind of, getting used to the bits he's gotten so far, but being this pressed together is something else entirely.]
Shit, no wonder your wrists have been a mess. [It makes sense with the sensations he's gotten, he just wasn't really thinking coherently enough to try to backtrack and figure out what those sensations are from.] What'd they catch you doing?
[It's not the easiest way to talk, his face basically pressed into Kevin's shoulder but he's still reluctant to pull away, even just a little bit, so it'll have to do, at least Kevin doesn't seem to mind much either.] Breaking into a house...[Which definitely isn't the worst part. And he knows that Kevin won't judge him, it's just still hard to admit himself.] An old lady's house.
[He should probably be more embarrassed that he got caught, especially after talking himself up so much when they did that errand together but the shame has settled so deeply into his bones that it's hard to feel anything other than that right now.]
Yeah? [Kevin's not about to complain about him keeping close, even if it means having to listen a little more carefully. His fingers start moving absently, thumb sweeping back and forth against the curve of Emery's neck as he tries to bite back a laugh, grinning a little.] Maybe I should be finding someone else to teach me this stuff. Just in case you need help again.
[Not that he's really expecting to start going along with Emery regularly, he's just teasing him.]
[He's not surprised by the reaction Kevin has and it would be easy with how he feels right not to just shrug it off, to laugh with him. But he didn't see how scared that person looked. He didn't hear the shit those cops said when they were pushing him around. He doesn't have to deal with every single action settling heavy on his conscious, knowing that even if he somehow got out of this contract, it wouldn't make all the horrible shit he's done go away.
So instead of brushing it of, he pulls back, dropping his arms and moving to put his own around himself instead, which just adds to the bad feeling, which comes swooping back in full force once they aren't touching anymore.]
You shouldn't be helping me with any of it. You shouldn't be involved in this.
[His stomach drops when Emery pulls away, the ache settling in immediately. He doesn't think he'd even notice it compared to before if it wasn't for how the contact had settled everything, making the pain stand out brighter once it comes back.]
--But I kinda am no matter what. [He doesn't sound bothered by that thought at all, and he reaches out to settle a hand on Emery's arm.] So I might as well help.
[Whenever he is having a particularly bad migraine, there are two people that he goes to. For a more medicinal approach, Uncle Emery is the way to go, he usually is able to find some kind of medication on the market that helps, an injection or a pill, something that will knock him out and take care of the problem.
For a more recreational approach, he goes to his Uncle Kevin, both are valid and fine methods but sometimes he doesn't want to be knocked out for the whole day. Sometimes it's nice to just chill and take the edge off and help his migraine at the same time. Uncle Kevin is also more available, not quite as busy as Emery, so it's basically a no brainer for him to text his uncle, hoping he might be able to help out.]
It's another bad day. Migraine Meds aren't working.
[Kevin keeps himself busy enough to avoid dying of boredom, for the most part, but very little of it tends to be time sensitive or impossible to set aside. Usually he replies pretty quick, and today's not an exception, only a couple of minutes before he responds.]
Are you watching the rugrats, or can I come by to pick you up?
[Obviously he doesn't have to go anywhere, but there's a lot of people and a lot of noise at home; it might be helpful in and of itself.]
[It's about an accurate estimate; he's pulling up to the house just about fifteen minutes later, opting to shoot off a text to let Misha know he's here rather than come in the house. Either way is going to be a bit of a disturbance, but he figures that if the twins are settled and he comes in, that's more likely to get them riled up than Misha coming out.
The car door's unlocked, his voice soft when he greets the kid, trying not to make things worse.] Hey, D.
[He appreciates the thought being given to every action his uncle makes. It's certainly easier for him to slip out quietly instead of getting everyone all excited again. His parents already know he's having a rough day, so he just lets them know Kevin is here to pick him up before leaving.
It's a slow walk to the car, sunglasses on his face, movements stiff like every action hurts, in a lot of ways, it does, every step pounding in his head as we walks, once he gets to the car, he sits down carefully, leaning his head back against the seat.]
No problem, kid. [He reaches over to pull the sunvisor down on the other side, one more little bit of protection against the light, before moving to pull out of the drive. He's quiet for a little bit, though he knows that only helps so much since he can't exactly keep from thinking -- but he does try to keep his thoughts steady, calm. It's not too hard right now, he's doing alright, the gap in his mind feels pretty far back and it hasn't been a busy day.
Eventually he does ask, gently:] Music? [He keeps a playlist for things like this, calm and soothing and mostly instrumental; it helps sometimes when he's feeling out of sorts, too. He's not sure quite how bad it is, if evening out the noise and maybe drowning out other people's thoughts will be helpful, or if even that little bit will just be worse.]
no subject
Today is no different. He barely got through his lab midterm before the pain got to be too much, a burning stinging sensation all over his skin, not enough to be excruciating but just enough that thinking about anything else is nearly impossible. By the time he gets home, he's ready to crawl into bed. He knows he has homework to do but it will have to be postponed until he can think about something other than how much he wishes he could just cease to exist.
He's halfway down his hallway before he decides to go to Kevin's room instead. He's pretty sure it's a bad day for him as well because he hasn't gotten many responses to the messages he's sent him. He gives one single knock before he opens the door, dropping his backpack unceremoniously on the ground before walking over, kicking his shoes off and climbing into Kevin's bed, not even bothering to say hello before shoving his face into a pillow. Misery loves company, right? At least if they have to suffer, they aren't alone.]
no subject
He's not always thrilled about company in this kind of mood, but Emery's a little easier than most people. If only because he's closer to really getting it than most people. So he doesn't complain when he hears the brief knock, already aware of who it is when Emery doesn't bother announcing himself through the door.
It's darker in his room than it usually is, the heavy curtains drawn tight. He shifts onto his side slowly a minute after Emery lands on the bed, studying him in the dim light. He doesn't actually need to ask if everything's okay. It clearly isn't.]
Again? [A little bit of concern in his voice. It seems like there's been a lot of pain lately.]
no subject
He's not really sure what he expects to find, clearly neither of them are okay, just pawns on some demon's chessboard, expendable and small, what does it matter if they fall apart? There are probably hundreds more to replace them when they do. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to just breathe before asking Kevin a question of his own.]
Bad day?
no subject
He reaches out a little after a few moments, his hand landing next to Emery's on the bed -- close enough that the movement of the bed probably makes it clear that he's there, but not quite reaching out for him. He doesn't know how bad it is, doesn't want to make it worse. It's not like the contact's going to make anything better. It's just the only thing he's got to offer. He can't even claim it's going to be better. It'll get better, but it won't stay that way.]
no subject
He reaches out to grab Kevin's hand once his breathing normalizes, giving it a small squeeze, talking quietly in the space between them.] I don't think he likes that I have my own life.
no subject
no subject
no subject
He probably won't answer questions either, huh.
no subject
It’s fine. I’m sure he’s just mad or something. [He isn’t exactly shutting down the conversation, as much as pivoting to the more pressing issue.] What’s on your mind?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
More ~AU~ building
Thankfully he isn't detained long and once he is released, he holds back from running up the stairs to get to their hallway. He should probably change his clothes, his shirt has blood on it from his nose and his lip and his pants are dirty from being in the holding cell, but he can't really be bothered. He doesn't even think about going into his room, making a beeline for Kevin's instead and not even bothering to knock, just pulling the door open once he gets there.
He wanted to ask if Kevin was okay, that's been the main focus in his mind. Every slam against the cop car, every shove into a wall, every time they made the handcuffs too tight, his thoughts went to Kevin who was likely lying on the bed, completely unaware of why he was suddenly feeling so much pain. But instead of words leaving his lips when he sees Kevin, he releases a small whine and all but collapses into his arms, holding onto him.
It's awkward because Emery has never been much of a hugger even before all of this, always feel a little too caged in when someone had their arms around him, but this hug is different, this is exactly what he needed. The shakiness of his limbs disappears the way his headache and the throbbing of his eye does. It's like instant pain relief, instant calm. Any residual fear or anxiety he has just getting washed away the moment Kevin's arms are around him. He'd be more embarrassed if it weren't for the fact he knows Kevin feels it too. And really, it's been a rough day. If there was ever a time to allow a little bit of affection, it would be now. He's used to dealing with the pain the demon doles out and he's used to being put in rough situations, but he wasn't expecting this. Without the professor he'd probably still be in that cell, just another kid that gets caught up in the system with no help and no way out. He's been trying hard not to think about it all day and now, with Kevin, it's finally easier to push aside. He's safe. He'll be okay.]
yesssss good <3
The other thing he doesn't expect: the way even through the pain his mind immediately jumps to Emery, worry rising sharply with every phantom hit. Ask him before all this, he'd have assumed he'd be focused on taking care of himself, but instead he can't get the other off of his mind. Even once the new pains stop coming, he feels like he's going out of his mind with worry.
So it's two kinds of relief at once, when Emery walks in. The physical release from the pain suddenly lessening, going from a cacophony to a dull roar; and the mental release from seeing he's okay. Even seeing the damage, it still settles him immediately.
Consciously, he's not really expecting for Emery to practically fall onto him. Subconsciously, it's the only thing that makes sense, and Kevin's arms are around him without missing so much as a beat, the only natural response. A hand finds the back of his neck, skin on skin contact, the other arm keeping him close. The pain drains away, and nothing else seems to matter anymore -- everything's fine now.
He's quiet for a minute, just holding on tight, before he finally finds his voice.] So where's the truck that hit you?
no subject
He's grateful when Kevin speaks, cutting some of the tension with a joke. He huffs out a small laugh, more of a breath than anything else and responds.] Probably still at the police station, or trying to find some other poor kid to torture.
[He doesn't say innocent, because unfortunately he isn't innocent and if he's being honest with himself, he probably deserves what happened. It's what makes this most difficult. He's glad he's out of there, can't stand the thought of going back, but if he was genuinely asked, he'd have to agree that they were well within their rights to punish him for what he did.]
no subject
Shit, no wonder your wrists have been a mess. [It makes sense with the sensations he's gotten, he just wasn't really thinking coherently enough to try to backtrack and figure out what those sensations are from.] What'd they catch you doing?
no subject
[He should probably be more embarrassed that he got caught, especially after talking himself up so much when they did that errand together but the shame has settled so deeply into his bones that it's hard to feel anything other than that right now.]
no subject
[Not that he's really expecting to start going along with Emery regularly, he's just teasing him.]
no subject
So instead of brushing it of, he pulls back, dropping his arms and moving to put his own around himself instead, which just adds to the bad feeling, which comes swooping back in full force once they aren't touching anymore.]
You shouldn't be helping me with any of it. You shouldn't be involved in this.
no subject
--But I kinda am no matter what. [He doesn't sound bothered by that thought at all, and he reaches out to settle a hand on Emery's arm.] So I might as well help.
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
Dragging him into this too
For a more recreational approach, he goes to his Uncle Kevin, both are valid and fine methods but sometimes he doesn't want to be knocked out for the whole day. Sometimes it's nice to just chill and take the edge off and help his migraine at the same time. Uncle Kevin is also more available, not quite as busy as Emery, so it's basically a no brainer for him to text his uncle, hoping he might be able to help out.]
It's another bad day.
Migraine
Meds aren't working.
no subject
Are you watching the rugrats, or can I come by to pick you up?
[Obviously he doesn't have to go anywhere, but there's a lot of people and a lot of noise at home; it might be helpful in and of itself.]
no subject
Nah, rugrats are being contained by someone else today.
I'm good to be picked up.
no subject
no subject
[Sitting in the dark, being pathetic, trying not to even look too hard at the phone, the tiny screen enough to make him want to vomit.]
no subject
The car door's unlocked, his voice soft when he greets the kid, trying not to make things worse.] Hey, D.
no subject
It's a slow walk to the car, sunglasses on his face, movements stiff like every action hurts, in a lot of ways, it does, every step pounding in his head as we walks, once he gets to the car, he sits down carefully, leaning his head back against the seat.]
Hey, Uncle Kevin. Thanks for getting me.
no subject
Eventually he does ask, gently:] Music? [He keeps a playlist for things like this, calm and soothing and mostly instrumental; it helps sometimes when he's feeling out of sorts, too. He's not sure quite how bad it is, if evening out the noise and maybe drowning out other people's thoughts will be helpful, or if even that little bit will just be worse.]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)