Malfunction
A little treat! I wrote this for an assignment in my creative writing class and it got kinda whumpy :3
They've got names but they're not established characters or anything! So there's no missed context haha we're just in media res.
Content warnings: cyborg whump, medical whump mention, bad caretaking, heart disease mention
Word count: 685
~~~
The entire point of a synthetic heart was to eliminate these sorts of risks.
Chk-chk-chk-shhhh. Gears stuttered around the hydraulic line that kept it beating, and a spark drilled through his t-shirt.
“Jamie?”
“I’m fine,” he huffed. “The usual catch.”
“Like hell! You’re smoking!”
He peeked down. Dirty tendrils curled out of his chest cavity, filtering out through the newly established chimney. The curdling stench of melted rubber trailed with it.
“And why should that matter, Cal? My heart’s already wading in tar.” But Jamie grabbed them by the wrist and stormed into the bathroom.
Chk-chk-shhhhhh. Bag and jacket slammed down onto cracked tiles. His shirt caught on mechanical components.
“Your lungs are still flesh,” Cal said. The bastard leaned their happy ass against the door, content to watch him flail: a feral beast mauling what may have once been associated with a sheep.
“Lungs can’t have arrhythmia.” His voice fluxed and pitched into a squeaky approximation of his doctor’s from within his fabric prison.
“Whitten’s a moron.”
“The only moron who’s agreed to fix me,” Jamie grunted, the shredded remains of his shirt finally fluttering to the ground. “Would it have killed you to help?”
“It would kill you if he hears this and decides to weigh in on his patient’s dysfunctional state. We don’t need you relying on his shoddy craftsmanship to rip away any more of your humanity.”
“Shut the fuck up, Cal.”
To their credit, they did, content to rest in the dim glow of old halogen bulbs. Jamie would have appreciated the sterile hum of fluorescents back in the hospital corridor, but his companion wasn’t entirely devoid of logical thought. Arriving broken to an appointment wouldn’t do him any favors with the doctor.
He turned to the mirror where the faux heart smiled back, nestled comfortably between two steel panels where his pectorals had once wasted the precious space. Wan skin stretched in an endless expanse around it.
Chk-chk-chk-chk-chk-
Jamie’s fist nearly dented the left panel.
-shhhh.
“What did I say? Faulty machinery.”
Jamie’s fist nearly dented Cal’s left cheek. The wood grain bowed around purpled knuckles.
“Make yourself useful and open my back panel.”
“Careful.” They snatched the screwdriver before he got creative. “Whitten will saw that one off next.”
“Good. Maybe I won’t miss next time.”
The screws whined as Cal shimmied them out, already stripped from the last ten times. Oil and grease slithered out when they reached inside for the same loose gear.
“Before I tighten you up…”
“Save it, Calvin,” Jamie spat.
“No. No, listen to me, dammit!” They squeezed the hydraulic line and simulated beating came to a shuddering halt. “That tick-tick-tick in the upper chamber feels familiar, doesn’t it? You didn’t care to notice, but I studied your heart readings before you let that maniac replace it, and this thing is mimicking your atrial fibrillation. Whitten didn’t fix anything!” Jamie’s fist found its mark.
“Get your filthy hands out of my chest! This fucking thing keeps me alive, and you think you can use it as leverage to preach your naturalist bullshit?! How about I squeeze the breath from your throat, huh? How high and mighty will you be then?” An open palm pushed Cal back up against the door.
“This isn’t about an agenda, it’s about him!”
“Human hearts can’t be tightened and adjusted.” Each finger clamped down one by one, compressing supple skin. “One little mistake and it’s all over.”
“Is that a threat?” Cal wheezed.
“Stand down, or it will be.”
Chk-chk-chk-chk-shhh. Smoke billowed up between them.
“Let me be clear,” Jamie continued. “I’d let Whitten pick apart every bone in my body before I let you lay another finger on me.” Cal was flung to the ground, clutching their crushed trachea and retching softly against moldy grout and piss-stained stones. The salt and rot crawled up their tongue.
“Don’t come crawling back when he ruins you too, Jamie.”
He slung his bag over a bare shoulder and dropped the jacket into Cal’s arms. A moment of hesitation, then a wad of saliva splattered across their forehead.
“Keep your sympathy.”
