a quick dbh one-shot : : ꩜ hurt / comfort , connor & markus
‘He wants it to stop. He wants to sanitise his whole mind, clean it from top to bottom, and throw out every wretched thought.’
or: connor is ruminating, so markus distracts him.
[ ○ ] read clean by rklynx (anonymous)
[ ✕ ] pass up on reading this one-shot
[ path unlocked ꗃ ] read on tumblr ?
CLEAN - rklynx
a/n ;; i do not write very often, as such i am not the greatest at it. this was a fic i wrote as a means to project. i am currently in therapy for ocd, and being distracted over seeking reassurance sucks. at least i have connor to practice with. pls be nice :3
[ ⚠︎ software instability ↑↑ ]
“Connor,” Markus called out gently, “why are you up there?”
It had started out a relatively normal day. Wake up, make Hank breakfast, drink some thirium to replenish his levels after throwing up an egregious amount because he couldn’t stop thinking and caused his systems to overload and-
Well, anyway, he was fine. It was a normal day.
It went downhill pretty quickly; every day seems to be like that now. It takes one thing, just one sight or sound or smell or feeling–the thoughts don’t stop when they start.
Today, it was a news article. Such a stupid trigger. Half of those articles are lies anyway, but it doesn’t matter; one stupid lie can force his system into overdrive. He repeats it over and over and over again.
‘The Deviant Hunter: Has he Ever Stopped Hunting?’
Wow. Okay.
Well, did he?
Connor knows, logically, that he did. Of course he did. He hasn’t had a single moment of truly trying to hurt anyone else–or more accurately, hunt anyone down–in months. Sure, the thoughts are there, but those terrify him more than they could anyone else.
He worries, though. What if he is? What if he’s been unconsciously trying to harm his people? What if every intrusive thought about grabbing Markus by the head and twisting until his neck snaps is actually what he wants, what if he-
He slams his eyes shut, tightly, and covers his ears. He wants it to stop. He wants to sanitise his whole mind, clean it from top to bottom, and throw out every wretched thought.
“Connor~” Markus called again, in a sing-songy voice. Connor isn’t sure how Markus can be so casual about this; I mean, Connor can’t even stomach looking at Markus right now. He shakes his head.
“G-Go away, Markus. I don’t want to see you right now.” It sounded kind of harsh, Connor thinks, but hiding behind a shield of anger works. It’ll drive people away, and keep them away. If they’re not close, then they can't be hurt. Connor won’t be able to infect them with his sickening ideas.
Markus sighs, tsking with his tongue. Apparently, he’s immune to Connor’s tricks.
“Connor, Connor, Connor… You know, climbing onto the roof of the shed in your backyard isn’t really the best place to hide. If you don’t want anyone to come to you, why not go somewhere else?”
Connor doesn’t dignify that with a response. Markus’ voice is making his stomach churn again. A warning in his HUD blares about his thirium line in his stomach beginning to leak. His stress levels are at 76%. He pulls his legs up to his chin and tucks his knees under it, willing the leak to stop.
“Do you mind if I come up there, Connor?” Markus asks. Connor shakes his head ‘no’. Markus continues, “I told Hank that I would–“
“Lieutenant Anderson. You’re not his friend, don’t call him Hank.” Connor snaps meanly, opening his eyes to glare at Markus.
Markus cocks his head to the side and chuckles, it makes something in Connor’s heart feel weird. He furrows his brows, feeling tears prick at his eyes. His stress level is climbing higher, his biocomponents are beginning to overheat.
“Hank and I are friends. You know, this whole mean-boy act may work on others, but we’ve done this dance before, Connor. I know how you work.”
Something about his tone makes Connor flinch. He looks away again, trying desperately to force the thoughts out of his head. It’s weird, it’s always weird. God, why is he so Weird? It hurts. It always hurts.
”What if you grabbed him and slammed his head into the ground?” “What if you damage one of his major biocomponents?” “What if you already have damaged them?” “Did I damage Markus?” “Did I damage-“
“Connor,” Markus says, suddenly much closer than before. Connor jerks and looks to his left, where the Leader, his friend, is now sitting beside him, smiling gently. “You’re going to rip your hair out if you keep doing that.”
Connor’s fingers unintentionally tighten further in his hair. He isn’t even sure when they got there. The fear is paralysing his mind; it’s like his body isn’t his own. He shudders and forces his hands down, tapping his fingers on the tin roof. He’s in control, he has to be.
“Go away, Markus!” He snaps again. “I don’t- I don’t want to hurt you!”
It isn’t a threat, but a genuine fear.
Markus seems to be totally unaware of that thought. He sets his right hand gently over Connor’s left and flattens it against the roof. The younger android struggles for a moment, but lets it happen in the end.
“What did you make Hank for breakfast, Con?”
Does Markus think he’s stupid? Connor knows what he’s doing. Trying to redirect him, trying to act like his thoughts mean nothing when they’re–literally–tearing him apart. Another warning enters his HUD. His stomach hurts.
“I’m serious, Markus, please stop.”
And he does, for a second. Connor almost feels relief; if Markus leaves, then Connor can rot in his own head. No one will ever have to know.
Markus is never quiet for long, he just hums before he continues, “I’m assuming it was eggs, right? Like yesterday? And the day before, and the day before that…” His voice is supposed to be comforting, humorous. Connor really does want to laugh; he does. His lips even curl a bit before the headline replays through his head again. He groans, moving his right hand to his stomach and clutching where it hurts.
Markus looks down where the younger is curled up. He takes his hand off Connor’s and smooths it down the brunette's back.
“It’d help if you straighten out, Con. Try answering me, too. You know how this goes.”
And Connor does, of course. He spirals, and when he seeks reassurance, he’s given anything but. Really, he should be thankful that it’s Markus here and not Hank. Hank tries, his approach is just… gruffer. Instead of redirecting Connor, he challenges him. Hank’s at work, though, and Connor knows he must’ve called Markus to take over. He takes a deep breath, flinching at yet another horrendous, sickening thought. Then, he forces himself to straighten his legs. If Markus is trying to help, he should at least try to listen.
After straightening them, he realises Markus had two reasons for telling him to do so. The roof is at a slight angle; Connor has to put effort into staying on it when he’s not curled up. It’s a physical distraction. It’s an added bonus that some of the pain in his stomach lessens.
“Eggs,” he mumbles at last, “I made Hank 3 eggs, with 1/4 of a teaspoon of salt and pepper. He complained it was not salty enough.”
Markus chuckles, still rubbing Connor's back, “He always says that. Tell me, why don’t you ever add more?”
Connor hums to that, furrowing his brows. Markus must know why he doesn’t, he was a caretaker android himself. A flash of stark white-hot anger blinds him for all but a moment; Markus is trying so hard to calm Connor that he’s treating him like a baby. He wants to hit him.
Fuck. Jesus. That’s not true. Why did he even think that?
“S-Sodium intake.” He says. His vocal modulator glitches as he does, causing his voice to sound static-y. “Yo-u know that, Mark-kus.”
Markus doesn’t once acknowledge Connors' malfunctioning parts; he just nods and trudges forward.
“Yes, yes, but I also know how to let loose a little. Once, Carl asked for 2 shakes of the salt shaker, I felt so brave that I gave him three!”
A faint smile graces Connor’s face. He’s heard the same story 12 times now, but there’s something about the genuine joy that lifts Markus’ voice at the end that always makes him smile.
“Of course,” Markus continues with a sigh, feigning regret, “I did have to give him two cups of water to drink with it. You know, to counterbalance the salt.”
Connor cocks his head; Markus knows that isn’t how sodium intake works. Connor knows why Markus makes the same ‘mistake’ each time he tells this story. Another distraction, one that always works. He prepares the same line he always responds with, “Markus–“
But he doesn’t get to say it this time. He gets cut off by a lurching in his stomach. The leak has finally caused enough thirium to build that the pressure is causing his systems to flush. He leans forward abruptly and retches. Markus grabs hold of him quickly, both hands on Connor’s arms to keep him still on the roof. The blue liquid cakes Connor’s pants, his thirium pump regulator thumps erratically. He heaves a breath he doesn’t need, and dry heaves some more.
“Fuck…” he mutters in between breaths, squeezing his eyes shut. He leans back once he’s sure the vomit has stopped, and feels something gently wiping the thirium off of his mouth.
“There you go, Con…” Markus says gently. Connor blinks his eyes open, sending away the warnings thats flooded his vision. He glances over to Markus, embarrassment flooding his system. There’s thirium on Markus’ hand that the older android is wiping on his jeans with a smile. “That was kind of gross, but at least it wasn’t eggs.”
The absurdity of the comment throws him through a bit of a loop. He wants to argue that Androids can’t even eat real food, but he doesn’t. The way Markus said it so casually make’s Connor laugh. Then he starts to cry. Then he laughs some more.
Markus doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t pull Connor into a hug, or tell him not to cry. He just silently lets go of Connor and smiles at him. Connor has to feel the discomfort of the moment to remove himself from his thoughts; Markus is the one that taught him that.
It takes 2 minutes and 23.012 seconds before Connor stops laughing, the tears slowing. He feels awkward and uncomfortable, but better. So much better. He finally relaxes.
Connor heaves another breath, and looks at the mess of thirium in front of him. “Yes,” he says with a small giggle, “at least there are no eggs.”
They sit in silence for just a moment more. Connor is filthy now, but his head isn’t as loud. Markus stands, carefully. He’s a little unsteady on the old, tin roof, but once he’s on his feet, he looks down at Connor.
He reaches down at Connor, clean hand ready for the taking. Connor stares, before taking it. A wave of calm washes over his mind as he stands, too. The warnings begin to fade; his stress levels go down. His body and mind feel at peace, for now.
He squeezes Markus’ hand, a silent thank you for sitting with Connor again, for being the same rock he had been time and time before.
“Come on, Con,” Markus says with a smile, “let’s go get you clean.”
thinking about connor sitting prettily at his desk in the police precinct, minding his own business, but still getting admired by his coworkers for his pretty face and work ethic. im sure so many people would be jealous of him. thats probably why gavin is such a dick, hes just jealous of connor being so… connor.
human band au in which connor is a huge fan of jericho and begs hank to take him to their concert. hank is resistant at first (“connor im not going to a fuckin concert where everyones gonna be jumping around. im too fuckin old”) but ends up having a nice time! also lead singer markus throws a signed shirt into the crowd and it hits connors face
alternatively, jericho is a heavy metal group that hank wants to go see, bringing connor along.
