Whumptober 08: Sleep Deprivation | Isolation Chamber | Forced to Stay Awake | “Leave the lights on”
This is one of those fics I could have made longer, darker, so much worse, but it kind of grew bigger than I thought it might. Prepare for more angst than whump. Maybe I'll go back and tweak this one at another time to create more hurting.
Enjoy some lite Whamilton and vague dark magic and curses.
***
The fire crackles softly in Washington’s private quarters, the glow casting long shadows across the room, painting it dreary even though the space is warm, safe. It is late, and the house is quiet. It’s been quiet for days, since he returned with-
“Alexander?”
Washington turns away from the window, fixing his gaze on the fragile figure across the room seated on the edge of his bed, his heart heavy with a temptation he does not wish to acknowledge.
Alexander sits there, curled in on himself, the worn quilt clutched to his chest. He trembles ever so slightly, eyes dull and distant. He looks so much younger, so much more frail than he ever has. The poor boy hasn’t slept in days, the nightmares keeping him on edge, memories haunting him at every turn. And Washington- God, Washington can feel his exhaustion, his pain.
The boy is unraveling before his very eyes, mind barely holding together. The curse is still there, still gnawing at him, as much as they’ve both tried to pretend it’s gone. That dark magic clings to Alexander’s very soul.
Washington sighs, takes one step forward. His poor boy- he shouldn’t be like this. So broken and fragile. There is something about Alexander that has always called to him, his defiance, his fire, that makes Washington want to beam with pride. But the curse has changed everything. It’s made Alexander different. Vulnerable in ways that stir some darkness deep in Washington’s heart.
It would be so easy to become that same monster that abducted and cursed Alex. A few words spoken with authority and the boy would be his. Completely. His boy would obey, do anything he asked, without hesitation. Washington’s mind wanders down this dangerous path, an image in his mind of Alex’s submission, not out of fear but by his command. He could do it. Erase the pain. Make Alex forget everything with a simple order.
“No,” He barely mutters to himself, barely more than a whisper. Washington feels his throat grow tight, his hands curl into fists as he leans against his desk. No. He cannot, will not do that, even as the dark temptation grows with every sleepless night; every time he wakes with Alex trembling in his arms.
Alex. His Alex. He can fix him.
The curse is cruel. It’s already taken so much from Alex. Washington cannot add to that, not after learning what it was, and that he cannot break it.
He looks back at his boy. Alex, curled in on himself, shoulders slumped. The exhaustion in his eyes is palpable, pure agony. Washington feels his own resolve waver.
Alex has not slept in days, his mind fraying at the edges as the nightmares consume him piece by piece. His muscles are rigid, eyes hollow. Washington knows if something doesn’t change soon, he will lose his boy completely.
“I can’t sleep,” he croaks, the words barely there. His hands shake against the blanket, breath uneven. “I can’t, I can’t, I… I try, but…”
“Alexander?”
“It won’t stop,” Alex finds Washington’s gaze and holds it, barely.
Washington freezes, staring at his boy as the temptation returns, whispering his ear. One command and Alex can rest. One command and he can give his boy the peace he so desperately needs.
“You need to sleep, my boy,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the conflict roiling inside. He reaches out, his hand coming to rest on Alexander’s shoulder, firm and warm.
Alex jolts and Washington draws his hand back like he’s been burned. “I can’t,” he blurts out, eyes growing wide. “I can’t.”
Washington moves again, placing both hands on his boy’s shoulders. He knows what he needs to do now to stop Alexander’s suffering, but the weight of that decision settles heavily on his very soul. “Sleep,” he says, almost to himself. “I can help you sleep.”
Alex goes tense the instant the words slip from his lips. He tenses, stares up at Washington, a familiar flicker of fear sparking in hie eyes. The curse, even now, controls him.
Both of them.
“No, sir, please-”
Washington hesitates, guilt gnawing at him. He is about to cross a line, breach the deepest trust his boy had in him. He gives orders of course, but never one that Alexander is bound by this dark curse to obey.
“Alexander…” He kneels down in front of Alex, hands resting on the boy’s knees. He keeps his voice quiet, firm, but filled with a tenderness he cannot hide.
“No, nonono, sir-”
“Listen to me.”
Alexander’s breath hitches, his eyes locking with Washington’s. The curse stirs at the commanding tone of his voice.
“Please don’t make me.”
“I need you to sleep,” Washington says, soft but unyielding. He has to do this. “You’re going to close your eyes and you are going to sleep. No nightmares. Just peace. You will sleep, Alexander.”
Washington shudders at the memory of the commands that monster gave Alexander, but this order, he assures himself, is kinder. It’s merciful.
The effect is immediate, though Washington sees the utter look of betrayal in Alexander’s eyes. It’s just there for an instant, and then his body relaxes, tension seeping out of him like a weight lifted from him. His eyes flutter shut, and he slumps forward into Washington’s arms. The curse pulls Alexander under, into a dark, dreamless sleep.
Washington holds onto his boy as his body goes limp, finally succumbing to rest he so desperately needs. A wave of guilt surges over him despite the initial relief. He’s helped Alex, hasn’t he? He hasn’t made use of this curse for anything more than this. To give his boy peace. That’s all he wants. To help him.
To protect him.
“I’m sorry.”
Washington looks down at the sleeping figure in his arms. The weight of what he’s done settles heavy over him. He’s used the curse, crossed that line, no matter how good his intentions.
Washington can’t even protect his boy from himself.
Wonder Twin Powers? Really Nat? That’s the best you could come up with?
I chastised myself while I rolled my shoulders back trying to mentally reset. Calm down, focus on the screen. I knew I had more than enough work to keep me occupied, but I couldn’t shake the electric feeling of having gotten to hold him, not once, but twice in such a short amount of time. It’s like I could still feel his tiny heart thundering against the ball of my thumb as I propped him up and stroked his chest. His face had turned a bright, beautiful pink, his crystal blue eyes, wide and wary. Poor Alexander. He wasn’t exactly the touchy feely type was he? The part that drove me up a wall is that I knew he liked it. There was too much evidence at this point for any doubt. From that first day when he’d curled around my thumb in his sleep, to the adoration he’d shown under the influence of medication, to how flustered he’d been just now. Yet, he couldn’t get out of his own way. What was that about? A fear of being betrayed? A lack of trust? Or did he just not want to want anything from anyone else? Maybe it was a combination of all three or something else I hadn’t discovered yet.
But he had apologized in his own stiff and far too serious way. He’d literally fallen all over himself in the effort. I thought of the pretty paper flower he’d planted in my hair. My face grew hot. He may have driven me crazy half the time with his antics and weird complexes, but everytime he pushed me to my limit, he’d go and show this thoughtful, sweet side of himself that lay buried under layers of witty quips, sharp judgements and an easily bruised ego.
I realized, all the sudden, I hadn’t absorbed a single word of the last page and a half I’d scrolled through. God, I’m hopeless.
This little spot right by my elbow seemed alive with warmth and energy. Unable to help from peering down and sneaking a glance every now and again, I still couldn’t believe my luck: So far, at least, he’d chosen to stay exactly where I’d placed him, his little chair so close to my sleeve, he could lean over and tap me if he wanted. I became suddenly hyper-aware of all my movements, realizing even a slight shift of my arm could easily knock him over, if I wasn’t careful. Hello, down there, Alexander.
As expected, he was a much better student than me. Absorbed in his work, he leaned into the phone display, scrolling through some document as he read and took fastidious notes. Was it stupid that I couldn’t help but smile when he ran his tiny finger along his lower lip in that habit of his which always showed he was lost in thought? Yes, absolutely. But it didn’t matter. I grinned like an idiot all the same. I guessed what really thrilled me was the chance to get to know him better. I was proud to be picking up on his little ticks and quirks and learning more about what made the Little Nightmare uniquely him.
I found myself trying to peer over the top of his head at his notebook below. What did his handwriting look like? Somehow I had a feeling it was far more neat and impressive than my terrible scrawl. Why was I so enamored with someone simply taking notes? Why would I be happy to sit and watch him do just that for hours? I felt my heart swell. How lucky was I to have him in my life!
It was hard to imagine what things were like before him. Certainly I got less of a daily earful, but I also had no one to share my time, my space, and my meals with, at least not regularly. I hadn’t gone home to see family in months. The coursework was killing me. The day I’d found this tiny blue-eyed thief clinging to the shelf of my pantry, I’d barely slept in a week. My modest, cramped apartment had gotten awfully quiet. Well, besides the occasional next-door cat drama.
I’d known it for a while, but never was able to diagnose the exact malady… that is, until now. I’d been lonely.
I felt the gravity of that sink into my stomach and slither along my spine. It unsettled me.
That word made it sound like I was some fucking sad sack recluse who never got out. One wary glance around my desk with its utter mess of papers, pens, pencils, a dirty used mug here, and a few scattered half empty water bottles there, and it was clear there was room for improvement, as much as I hated to admit it.
Banishing the trash heap from my foremost thoughts, I turned my gaze back to the little tuft of disheveled hair, and the tiny hand that reached out to tap the on-screen keys that were never designed with him in mind. I admired the speed with which his little fingers slid to type out the letters. He had to get both arms involved, just to span the length of the device, which was turned on its side, but he made it look easy. It was clear he’d spent years honing his efficiency.
As I watched him lean far to one side to reach the “P” key, I had to bite my lip to resist the urge to nudge his little chair closer, just to help him reach. I knew well enough by now, that’d earn me a tiny jabbing finger in my direction and more than a few choice words spat out about not letting him do things for himself.
I sighed under my breath. That seemed to be our continual conundrum: How could I help him and show him kindness without him taking everything I said and did as a threat to his autonomy? What was wrong with helping out every now and again?
“I can feel you staring at me, Miss Marquez…” His tone was accusatory. I’d been caught. How could he possibly have known? He didn’t even bother to look up as he continued to copy something down on the tiny page before him. I felt my face flush. How could someone so small take me to task so easily?
I sputtered before managing a reply, “W-well… you can’t be fully focusing either, if you’re so worried about what I’m doing!”
“Natalie, the energetic force of your direct gaze is the proportional equivalent of two full moon beams on a clear, pitch black night… they’re impossible to ignore.” Goddamn. Still, he refused to even hazard a glance up. He could be a mean little thing when he wanted to be. Undeterred he kept right along, “You can’t assist me with my own legal matters if you refuse to study your own. If you aren’t interested in helping, I’ll just go find some other human’s pantry to raid…”
I rolled my eyes and groaned, “Fuck you, little bastard! You’re such a bully!” I pointed my index finger at his chest. That finally got his attention. He dropped his notes in his lap, craning his neck to meet my eyes.
He shook his head, brow furrowing, “Oh, c’mon, admit it. That was good. Moon Beams Marquez… maybe that’s what I’ll call you now. Since you’re so fond of truly atrocious nicknames, you deserve one of your very own.”
“Oh you want a war, Ale-Ale-Oxen-Free? Is that what you want?”
My finger, about as thick around as his little head, dove for his chest again, this time playfully pushing into his sternum and sending him rolling across the desk. The second he began to careen backwards, he gripped the armrests, clinging to the piece of furniture like a shipwrecked sailor tossed about on a tumultuous sea. I could practically see his raised hackles. Poor thing, I wasn’t trying to actually scare him!
His journey across the desk came to a sudden halt when I laid my hand across his path, easily catching him in the soft barrier of my palm, little chair and all. He immediately whipped around to see just what had stopped him. When he seemed to understand he wasn’t going anywhere, he relaxed his tiny white knuckle grip on the arm rests.
In spite of his painfully obvious fright around this whole ordeal, he insisted on pretending all was well as he sucked in a breath and locked eyes with me, puffing out his chest a bit in a far too late display of nonchalance, “That’s some of your weakest work, Natalie. It’s not even remotely original.” Oh yeah? Is that a challenge, little man?
Without giving him more than a second or two to catch his breath, I dove for his little ankle with my finger and thumb, pulling him closer to me. For all his show of bravery, he went right back to clinging to the chair, as he lurched forward, “You know I didn’t have to stop you, just now, I could’ve just let you roll right off the desk…” I brought him close, the tip of my nose only an inch or so from his fluttering chest. I was delighted by the jumpy little thing before me. It doesn’t take much to fluster you, does it, Alexander? His blue eyes shimmered as he blinked rapidly, waiting to see what would happen to him next. Delicately, I balanced his heel on the pad of my index, bouncing it up and down slightly, “Ah, he’s too stunned for words! You know I’d never let anything happen to you, right? It’s way too much fun to tease you to let you go that easily.”
At that, he huffed and rolled his eyes, retracting his leg and planting it back on the floor, “If you’re this invested in not getting any of your work done, the least you can do is be considerate enough not to interrupt mine!”
I wanted to quip back, but I knew he was right. I had completely derailed our efforts. But could he really blame me? I wished he could see himself through my eyes. Then, I was certain, he’d understand why it was so hard not to mess with him every now and again.
Adjusting my spine to sit up straighter, I returned my focus back to my monitor. I was gonna cram this boring ass shit in my head one way or another, goddammit. I started to read, taking notes on key terms. Every time I was tempted to ogle over my tiny counterpart, I reined myself in by fiddling with my blue ballpoint pen. Focus, Nat.
I read, fidgeted, reset, then read some more. The worst part was he would occasionally shift in his chair, clear his throat, run his hands through his hair to sweep the bangs from his eyes, or generally just move about in miniature and it was so difficult not to stare.
I clicked the pen to steady myself. He cleared his throat. I kept clicking. He sat up, board straight. I tried so hard not to let my eyes slide from the screen to look at him. I kept fidgeting.
Suddenly, I felt a tiny, yet forceful tug on my sleeve, accompanied by a strained voice through clenched teeth, “Natalie.”
“Hm? You ok?” There was no rule that said I couldn’t gawk at him if he got my attention first! I happily gazed down at him, still toying with the writing utensil between my fingers.
“Oh certainly, I’d be fine… if…” his face was all hard lines and creases. Uh oh. He was grumpy about something. Well, when wasn’t he? I prepared myself for another tiny lecture.
As he spoke these words, he plucked along the fabric of my sleeve to wheel himself toward my hand, resting alongside him on the desktop. Then, much to my suprise, he threw himself over the back of my hand, reaching up for the top of the pen, where my thumb rested. With a determined grip he clutched the clicking mechanism, staring up at me with blazing eyes “… if you stop clicking this damned pen!” He used his left hand to shove at the pad of my thumb, trying to coax it away from the writing utensil.
He was splayed out over my hand, his good leg balancing on his tippy toes while he kept the other leg away from the ground. His hair was in his eyes, his mouth twisted into a scowl. He was pissed. I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. His face went scarlet, even as his little body shook slightly from my bouts of giggling ricocheting from my torso, down the length of my arm and through my hand.
“Why are you laughing?! You are truly the most obnoxious desk mate I could have possibly conjured up and you have the audacity to laugh at me?!” His left hand was quick to grip onto the knuckle of my index for better balance.
“Oh my god, you’re so mad. Look, I’m s-sorry. I’m sorry, Alexander. I didn’t realize how… annoying that was. It’s just a tick… of mine when I’m distracted…” I was barely even able to get a word in, between all my involuntary chuckling.
“Oh really? Really?! You don’t understand how this could be annoying??” He was practically growling at me, his eyes blazing as his mouth turned into a grumpy, dissatisfied frown. He practically smacked the tip of my thumb away and then proceeded to use the flat of his palm to furiously click the pen over and over again in as rapid succession as he could manage all while boring holes into my skull with his vicious little gaze.
I waved the white flag, “Alright! Alright! Point made! You’re just mister particular about every little thing aren’t you? I didn’t even click it that fast!” I guided his hand away with a small flick of my fingernail under his little elbow.
“You might as well for all the noise you were making with it. Do you realize how obnoxiously loud that mechanism is, sitting right next to me?”
“Point taken. I’m sorry, Alexander…” I shifted my grip on the pen and transferred it to the surface of the notebook via my left hand. Then, taking advantage of his body being slightly slumped over my fingers, I gently squeezed his upper arm against the side of my index with the pad of my thumb, anchoring him to my hand. Lifting him up to eye level, I delighted in how his body splayed across my knuckles as his legs dangled.
The moment he was airborne, he flushed brightly, squirming a bit as he gripped onto my finger with both hands. I’ve gotcha, I won’t drop you, you’re okay.
“W-what’re you…?”
“I’m sorry for being a foolish, obnoxious human that kept you from your favorite thing in the world: getting your nerd on. I do solemnly swear before this jury of one to dedicate myself to the serious business of helping this little lawyer-to-be prosecute the hell out of those piece of shit humans that dared to fuck with the smartest little man I’ve ever met.” As I spoke I held my hand up as if taking an oath. He stared at me, a smirk curling his lips as he caught on.
***********
Finishing her lighthearted display of solidarity, she leaned in closer, the tip of her finger headed straight for the crown of my head. It wasn’t that long ago I would’ve jerked away and shunned her touch, but now, I let her clear the bangs from my face with only a miniscule spike in the rhythm of my heartbeats. What sort of witchcraft did she possess that within a few seconds’ time she’d managed to take me from scowling and shouting at her, to quietly thrilled at the touch of her fingertip on my scalp?
Lawyer-to-be. She’d actually said those words, out loud. I thoroughly relished the sound of them. The pad of her index lingered, settling between my shoulder blades. Her touch was warm, soft.
“I’m not exactly used to having to share a workspace with someone so… perceptive when it comes to all the little details. Will you forgive me?” That was a nice way of saying someone with a miniscule perspective and, therefore, a hair-trigger sensitivity. She couldn’t possibly understand though, all her flurries of movements, her thoughtful humming, her simple fiddling with office objects, while minor infractions to her, were frustrating, impossible to ignore distractions to me.
She was waiting, anxiously, for my reply. I propped myself up on one elbow, tipping my chin, “I’ll be drafting a workplace contract that stipulates all unacceptable, obnoxious and counterproductive behavior. Upon your consenting signature, I’ll be willing to consider your apology.”
Her brow furrowed as she wrinkled her nose, “You’re such a fucking prick, I genuinely can’t tell if you’re serious or not.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at her bewilderment, before responding, “If you want to be a lawyer, Ms. Marquez, you’ll need to get much better at telling when someone is playing a practical joke on you.” Much to my amusement, she genuinely breathed a sigh of relief.
“Well, I have no doubt, with you teaching me, I’ll get better soon enough. Now, little nerd, are we doing this? Like, for real?” She offered the tip of her index finger to shake. I took it in hand, and shook heartily, “That settles it. Our case has my full, undivided attention from here on out. Okay?” Our case. I had a case. A real one. And a human to help unlock the barriers that came with filing it, “Don’t look so excited. First of all I’ve never seen you this giddy without hardcore drugs and secondly, you realize that means you’re stuck with me… like all the time now, right?” I couldn’t believe I was just allowing her to lay me across her hand while we had this conversation. When did I become the sort of man who would let a human do this to me and not give it a second thought? When did I become the sort of man who liked it?
“Isn’t that the hell on earth I’ve endured up until this point? What’s changed exactly?”
She visibly rolled her eyes before answering, “Oh my god you’re such a drama king. No, you little bastard. I still had class before. Now, I’m all yours!”
“Ah, yes, how could I ever forget the infamous, what’d you call it? Ah, yes, ‘rat jail’ incident? On a separate point entirely, you can’t skip your lectures! We need all the information we can get. The last thing I need is you falling any further behind than you already are!”
“Ouch! You really couldn’t resist punching me when I’m down could, ya? Nah, it’s fine, I’m close friends with the TA in my main lectures, I’ll tell him I’ve had some kinda family emergency. Besides, he owes me a favor, I’ll guilt trip him into counting me as present and he can just send me the taping of the lectures they always keep for archival. Piece of cake!”
While I disliked the nonchalance with which she was ready to break the rules, I admit it left me feeling thankful that she was willing to devote all her time to me and my work. Was I feeling strangely warm again? The flush of color to my face seemed to know no limit today.
My gratitude was short lived however, when my world flipped as she gripped me beneath my arms and plucked me up, now perpendicular to the floor far below, I dangled between her fingers, as she began to look me over, head to toe. I tried my best to hide the rhythm of my beating heart, but she seemed already preoccupied as her gaze landed on my injury, “While we are paused, though, now’s a good a time as any to mention we really should start doing some PT on that leg of yours before the muscles atrophy too much.” She used the pad of her finger to cradle my right heel, her face showing compassion laced in her furrowed brow.
I cleared my throat to get her attention, “I concur. Though, I’ll have a much easier time working on said muscles if I was ever allowed to use them….” I cast an accusatory glance at the finger and thumb which held me captive.
“You know, on second thought… forget what I just said. I can just carry you around wherever you wanna go…” she rubbed her thumb over my chest. Why did the mere brush of her finger elicit such a strong physical reaction from me? I was all red and uncomfortable again.
“No! No, we’ll none of that! Bad human! Put me down! Right now!” I batted at her fingers, knowing full well it was of no use to fight her grip, she’d have to release me herself. She stuck her lower lip out and pouted, dishing out the puppy dog eyes with extreme fervor, “No! I won’t be contradicted or manipulated. Down, I say!” I scowled, folding my arms over my chest.
“You’re no fun, I hope you know that, little sourpuss.” She cocked an eyebrow, playing the game with as much enthusiasm as I was, before carefully lowering me into my chair.
Slowly, after taking a moment to settle, we returned to our work in earnest. She tried her level best not to fidget and when she failed in this endeavor a terse calling of her name was enough to correct her.
In this way, minutes faded into hours, that cascaded into days, and before I knew it, weeks had given way to months and now we were on our 9th week of working together.
I already filled one of the notebooks I’d been given from cover to cover and was halfway through my second. I’d run through countless pencils during that time, too. She’d always tease me and pretend to read my writing, either by looming over my shoulder or plucking up the tiny (to her) booklet and, pinching it very carefully between her fingers, but, much to my satisfaction, the letters themselves were far too small for her to distinguish with her naked eye. My work was mine and mine alone, a fact that made me swell with pride.
I’d managed to go over Natalie’s data plan on her phone about three weeks in. When she’d glanced down and noticed the warning message, she’d raised her brows, plucking the device up and away.
“What the fuck?! You ran through my entire data plan for the month!! How?! Why didn’t you keep it on wi-fi???”
“Your wi-fi is abysmal. You know this. You complain about it daily. I wasn’t going to let such technological handicaps hinder my progress.”
“Goddammit, Alexander! You realize I have to pay for that right? Please tell me you at least didn’t know I was getting charged…”
“… I had no knowledge of charges incurred…”
“Oh my fucking god! You’re a terrible liar! You did know didn’t you? Little Nightmare, you’re going to bleed me dry, I swear to god. Were you just… not gonna tell me?!”
“Not until I finished compiling evidence! You would’ve switched me back to wi-fi and I would’ve suffered greatly due to those agonizing connection issues!”
“So you’d rather charge me hundreds of dollars than wait for a webpage to load for like… 20 extra seconds?!?”
All I could do was shrug.
“Fuck!”
Clearly, our path to success was not without its occasional speed bumps, but I’d characterize our forward momentum as generally headed in a positive direction. For example, while Natalie made progress on her coursework, with help from yours truly, of course, she also assisted me in exercising the torn muscles of my leg as we began the process of rehabilitation. Working out every day, with the added benefit of having plenty of weight resistance in the form of giant fingers that could counterweight whatever exercise I was engaged in, I made steady progress.
With the help of the aluminum forearm crutch (regrettably provided by the very same institution I was working so aggressively to destroy) I was now able to walk short distances without considerable pain, and I could stand with my weight shifted off my right leg with comfortable balance. In any case, it felt delightful to walk on my own two legs again, even if only for limited stretches.
The other utterly delightful benefit of our new arrangement was that I effectively got to attend law school with her. She’d managed, somehow, to convince her teaching assistant friend to send along the lectures, poorly filmed in the back of a sweeping hall, the auditorium-like seating steeply raked around a small stage, a massive projector behind the professor as he gestured emphatically and spoke into a lavalier microphone. It delighted me to no end how, from this perspective, the camera angled down on the spectacle below, how small the lecturer seemed, dwarfed by the silhouette of students’ shoulders. I would never admit this to Natalie, but as I watched, hanging on every word of his teachings, I couldn’t help but squint and picture myself in his place. Small, yes, but deeply convicted, passionate and knowledgeable, making up for my stature in my engaging rhetoric and undeniable love for the subject I was imparting.
All in all, Natalie saw to it that I ate remarkably well, and we both finally got an adequate amount of sleep for the first time either of us could remember in our recent histories. I admit, I found her less desirable quirks much more manageable on a full stomach and with adequate rest.
She’d even managed to convince me to tear myself from my work on occasion to watch some serialized television show with her, or cheer her on as she played video games with all sorts of fantastical creatures to vanquish. Her taste in media was abysmal and her proficiency in gaming was even more lacking, but… I admit, the way my heart swelled when she laughed until she cried at some poorly executed joke on her show, or she growled in frustration, swearing this time she was going to beat the enemy she’d been trying to vanquish for the last hour and a half because she ‘could feel it in her bones’ and, she was destined to win because she had her ‘grouchy little good luck charm with her’ went far beyond anything I’d ever experienced.
On nights like these, I could always see in the twitchiness of her fingers how badly she wanted to cradle me against her chest or in her lap, but she always settled me on the back of the couch just beside her, lounging in my own designated blanket pile, instead. Her show of restraint meant a great deal to me. And at the same time, I couldn’t help but reflect on how impossible my current situation would’ve seemed to me just a few weeks ago. Not only was I surviving in the company of a human, but… dare I say it? I was thriving.
I was working harder than I’d ever had in my life and yet I’d never felt more at ease or more enthused to leap from bed each day and dive eagerly into the task at hand. And as my heart swelled and warmed in the comfort of the only stable living situation I’d ever known, the world outside the apartment walls grew ever more frigid.
The rainy chill of early fall had given way to the crisp, icy, cold of winter, as snowfall became a regular occurrence. I’d never been more grateful to be safe, warm and dry than when I watched the snow flurries batter the window panes and the creaking winter wind howl through the skeletal branches of the barren trees.
It was on such an icy winter morning, seemingly no different than the ones that’d come before it, that this comfortable routine was suddenly and undeniably altered.
I was proud of the fact that I’d gradually forced Natalie to get up earlier and earlier to take advantage of the day. If it had been up to her, I’m almost certain she’d have slept in until eleven every morning! What a waste of precious time! I’d served as her much maligned alarm clock for many mornings before this, making all sorts of obnoxious sounds until, in groaning frustration, she’d rise. I wouldn’t stop until she stood from the bed on both feet. She very much wanted to throttle me in the beginning and I was grateful she hadn’t given in to her impulses. But now we both regularly woke around 5:30 or 6 am.
All that to say, on this day in question, at the fateful hour of 10:30 am, we’d already cooked, eaten and put away breakfast, shared tea (I’d discovered that earl grey was by far my favorite) and had been working for several hours when a sharp rap at the door pricked both our ears.
My stomach dropped, as I feverishly searched Natalie’s features for an indication on how to interpret this unexpected interruption. Just because I’d become gradually more accustomed to this human’s presence didn’t mean I felt at all ready to be introduced to some unknown stranger.
Her brow furrowed as she sat very still. It was clear she didn’t know who it was either. Locking eyes with me, she clocked my nerves immediately. I admit I was disappointed that she’d read me so easily, I’d hoped I could’ve managed to put on a braver countenance than that. Upon seeing my stiffened spine, she brushed a finger along my back, in an attempt to coax me into a more relaxed state. Suffice it to say, it was hardly effective, “I’m gonna ignore it. Might just be UPS delivering something to the wrong door or like… Mormons or something…” We both pretended to ignore the howling wind and active sheets of ice and snow cascading from the sky that made those theories less plausible.
Another series of knocks, harder, much more insistent. We both jumped at the harsh pounding of bone on wood. Whoever it was, they were awfully emphatic.
“I guess I should probably go see—“ As Natalie spoke, she rose from her chair, crossing towards her bedroom door. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. What if something dangerous awaited her on the other side? I wasn’t exactly in the most advantageous position to help her, even if my leg had been fully functional. Just as she’d crossed before the door, already ajar about a quarter of the way, and her fingertips had brushed the knob, there was the distinct clamor of a key sliding into a lock and the grind of that lock sliding open.
Natalie’s eyes widened in disbelief and shock, while I leapt to my feet, reaching for my cane to steady myself. The color drained from her face as she heard the initial creak of her door opening. She whipped around and leaned down to address me, “Stay here, and hide. Don’t come out until I come and get you. There’s only a few people who know where my hidden key is, but if this is something else… I just want you to be safe, I don’t want you getting hurt. Don’t pull some stupid hero shit on me, you hear me? Keep yourself hidden. Do you understand?”
I nodded, having no intention of cowering like a frightened child while she confronted the mystery currently entering her apartment. She gave me one last look before turning on her heel and exiting the bedroom. The second she left, I scrambled to the pen holder, fishing out her rather sharp letter opener, and brandishing it like a pike in my left hand, I stood armed and wary, straining to hear the sounds of giant footsteps, and an opening front door beyond that, over the cacophony of my own ragged breath and thunderous heart.
I had no clue just what lay in wait for us from behind that door, but I would later come to the undeniable conclusion that nothing would ever be the same from this point forward
oh, now he's done it. the human grabs the borrower in a fist and grins, theres an evil pleasure in his face, "Must I remind you? You're nothing but a pet." he spat "My pet, you do as i say, or you will be punished."
Every time, I convince myself I can get past that episode of Fullmetal Alchemist without sobbing like a small child and hugging my pets but every time I am proven to be a gigantic ass liar.
