Truffula Flu Swagtre Drabble!
TW: Scars, mentions of selfharm, mention of murder, slurs
(I translated fic from my native language by using translator and my own knoweledge. So there may be mistakes or strange sentences. I'm sorry about this! Anyways, I hope you still would enjoy it :3)
Being lost in his thoughts, Entre didn't notice how the door to the van opened and someone's footsteps were heard.
He was almost asleep, but suddenly someone noisily plopped down on the bed next to him. Entre flinched and almost screamed in surprise.
"I think I need to check the stores for supplies tomorrow." Swag snorted.
Entre exhaled softly. It's just a Swag.
"...What for?" He asked the first thing that came into his sleepy head.
"I think I need a new hose. I've done everything I could with what I already have. But there is no way to do the rest without new details." Swag turned his head and looked at Entre with a tired look. "Have you eaten?"
"I... um..." He glanced at the bowl of soup that had been cold for a long time. "I ate a little."
Swag grunted and turned his head again, staring at the ceiling of the RV.
There was an awkward silence. Entre heard only his heavy breathing due to illness.
He watched as the chest of the guy lying next to him peacefully heaved. He looked at his face. The look is serious. Extinct.
Now Entre practically doesn't see the same spark of enthusiasm and fun that so often flashed in the eyes of Swag before. From the beginning... of epidemic seem like an eternity has passed.
Entre shook his head, trying to drive away these thoughts and the voices in his head that were beginning to whisper something vile. Swag noticed it.
"What?" He casually removed the bangs from Entre's eyes, believing that he wanted to do just that.
Entre chuckled at the unexpected and ticklish touch.
"No, nothing." His eyes darted, looking at Swag. "Are you tired?"
"Holy shit." He breathed, rubbing his face, "Tired is not the word. Fucked up. It's fucked up."
Entre mumbled something and looked down.
Recently, even though the leader is now 72, a lot of responsibilities fall on the shoulders of Swag.
Swag is strong. Very strong. Both mentally and physically. But even a man like him cannot cope with all that fate presents to him.
Entre pulled the blanket over his nose and exhaled convulsively. If he were him, he probably would have killed himself [Entre] long ago.
But Swag is lying in the same bed with him right now.
Swag is too kind to him. Just like everyone else in this camp.
Entre shook his head again. No... no. It's not fair that these idiotic obsessive thoughts get into his head, even when one of the people closest to him is around.
Looking at Swag, he caught the return look of his blue eyes.
"And how are you... feeling?" Swag rolled over on his side and put his palm to his forehead.
"It's all right." Entre replied softly.
The more he looks at the too noticeable bruises under Swag's eyes, the more he feels the weight of guilt on his heart.
"Swag." Entre called unexpectedly. The guy looked at him questioningly. "Swag." Entre repeated, less confidently. "Do you want me to give you a massage?" He smiled tightly, while Swag gave him a surprised look.
"Are you sure you're feeling damn good?" He took his hand away and smiled weakly, "Or do you just want to feel my bare back? Sounds plausible, especially for a faggot like you."
Entre snorted, managing to stifle a chuckle. The same silly spark flashed in Swag's eyes again. For a second, completely faded, but... Entre could have sworn he saw it. That's very gratifying. His lips broke into a smile of their own accord. Swag laughed.
"It's just..." Entre ran his hand through Swag's hair, running it through his fingers. "It's the least I can do for you."
Swag's hair is clean and soft for the first time in such a long time.
The thing is that they found hygiene products in an abandoned store and took those with them.
They were finally able to take a shower and become a little more look like people than they were before. Swag grunted, watching Entre's hand.
"Well, let's say I believed in your disinterested intentions."
These words dissolved into the silence that hung in the RV again, while Entre was playing with Swag's hair.
Swag waited patiently for him to finish before sitting up on the bed. It's unlikely he'll ever admit it, but... lying next to Entre like this and watching him do such trivial bullshit is touching.
Entre finally took his hand away and smiled sincerely at Swag. Swag sat up on the bed and began to slowly pull off his top. Entre sat down next to him, silently watching this.
He casually threw his jacket and T-shirt into the corner of the van. Gloves also flew there.
Swag lay down on his stomach and, getting comfortable, turned his head on the Entre.
He carefully settled on Swag's hips and began to examine his back... after all, there was something to see.
Lots of lingering scars and fresh wounds. Deep bites that look quite painful and creepy. Bright, big bruises...
"What are you waiting for?" Swag muttered. Entre hesitated before answering.
"What's wrong with it, nerd?"
"It's... " Entre swallowed. "...curved."
Oh. That's not what he wanted to say at all. However, this wasn't untrue. Swag has a crooked posture. Entre noticed him slouching several times.
"Fuck, really?" Swag sighed. "I didn't even know without you. Captain Obvious."
"Shut up already." Entre chuckled. He began tentatively stroking the guy's back, afraid to hurt him.
"Well, what kind of gay weasel is this?" Swag grumbled with displeasure. "Come on, do it harder, I know you can."
Entre immediately remembered how emotionally, with all the dope, he hit Swag in the face. It was probably two months ago, but Entre didn't leave the feeling as if ten years had passed since that moment.
He grinned awkwardly and slowly began to push harder, watching the guy's reaction. It really doesn't seem to hurt him.
...Or he hides it with great effort.
Entre coughed and involuntarily asked again. "It doesn't hurt you, does it?"
"Does it hurt? From your trembling little hands? Oh, puh-lease."
Entre snorted with displeasure and began to press even harder, kneading Swag's back. If he can argue, then it doesn't hurt a damn thing.
He was doing his best now, but Swag was right, his body was weaker than usual due to illness.
However, Swag finally began to enjoy the massage. Entre felt the body beneath him gradually relax and soften.
Entre's gaze suddenly stopped on Swag's hands. And, to be honest, his hands were the hardest to look at.
No matter how terribly painful the wounds on his back were, just looking at the very fresh cuts made his head spin from the growing anxiety.
Entre stopped for a moment and tried to swallow the lump that suddenly appeared in his throat. He had never encountered this. He really didn't want Swag to keep hurting himself, but there was just nothing he could do about it.
They have become quite close during the epidemic, but... not that much so Entre could help him with something so serious.
Entre turned his head, hearing extraneous sounds, but realizing that were only voices in his head, he closed his eyes and began to breathe deeply, trying to calm down.
Suddenly, he felt someones touch on his hand and looked at it.
Swag gently held his hand and looked at him with a bit of concern in his eyes. Although, maybe Entre imagined it.
"You're clinging to me like that." He chuckled. "Did you really get a boner and now trying to calm your dick so desperately?"
"Y-yeah." He said, just to answer something. But only after a loud laugh he yelped, realizing what he had said.
Entre grumbles sullenly, rubbing his face and continuing to sit on Swag's hips while he wiped away tears of laughter.
"Oh, fuck, Entre... I haven't laughed like that in a long time... God." He was still chuckling.
"Shut up already." Entre growled, resuming his massage. "Or rather, you'd better tell me something else."
Swag grunted. He's probably had figured out what's going on with Entre.
But to be honest, Entre didn't hope that Swag wouldn't understand anything. He may be an idiot, but he's not stupid.
"Have I already told you where exactly I need to attach a new hose?" He croaked.
"No..." Entre coughed again.
Diligently kneading the neck of another Once-ler, Entre stuck out the tip of his tongue. Swag was so relaxed that he even shut up with his gay jokes, and would you know what it cost.
"Hey, Entre." Swag finally showed signs of life. "Are you exhausted yet?"
"No." He lied without hesitation.
Damn, he really was ready to knead this jerk's back for days on end. Why not? He was quite satisfied with this prospect.
In fact, he's still in bed, resting and recovering, just as Swag ordered him to. But at the same time, he is not lying around stupidly and poitlessly, and his hands are busy.
Swag is next to him, literally under him, for once genuinely happy and relaxed.
Entre even forgot to think about all the problems that await them outside, unfortunately or fortunately...
Panting, Entre continued to pinch Swag's sides, and the next moment he found himself pressed against his chest.
Entre was embarrassed, and his cheeks turned pink.
He couldn't get a word out of himself. Swag was also silent.
But the silent wasn't awkward. It was... calmly. And very peaceful, which is surprising, considering what is happening in the world right now.
But what happens in the world will happen later. What matters right now is what happens between them.
Swag gently strokes Entre's back and arms, silently staring at the ceiling. Entre is lying on the Swag's chest with his eyes closed. He didn't want to admit it, but doing a massage can be really exhausting.
Silence has always been an occasion for nasty voices in Entre's head to appear, but not this time.
Entre was almost asleep when he heard a voice on the periphery of consciousness, as if somewhere in the distance. A warm and familiar baritone.
"I love you too." He replied quietly.
And Entre didn't feel the body under him shudder with surprise, because he had already fallen into a deep sleep.
annaxmalina
germansingergirl
andulkaphoto
jbbartram-illu
dededos
