Modern Office Chironomia
Summary: To him, each passing moment feels like a sting, and all he could think of is getting a long night's sleep after the workload. It didn’t help at all that he was clumsier than normal for the past week.
Word Count: 2,002
Pairing: James/Lawrence
Rating: Teen and Up
Warning: mention of bruises
AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9526190
The sun slowly sheds away its glowing warmth, gently descending to make way for the moon to take dominion over the sky. The windows which brought upon the rays of light, now quiet and under the impression of a blue and purple tint.
Every now and again the door opens and closes, as members begin to take a break from their works in progress. Their day is almost done, but it feels as if everyone seemed to have gotten down a rhythm, and cannot stop working.
Except for Lawrence. His teeth are clenched roughly, his exhales sharp and unstable. He takes his hand off of the mouse to rub it against his face, dragging it upwards to brush his hair. To him, each passing moment feels like a sting, and all he could think of is getting a long night's sleep after the workload. It didn’t help at all that he was clumsier than normal for the past week.
Lawrence looks over to the couch to his right, and thinks for a moment to lay down and stretch his muscles out, at least for a bit. However, he is almost done, and could finish up in about an hour, and taking a break now means that he'll have to stress about it until tomorrow. He couldn't put the weight on the editors, as he is working on notes specifically given to him.
“Are...you okay?” Elyse worries, gently poking at Lawrence's shoulder. He snaps out of it, and turns to his coworker.
“I…” Lawrence starts, but fails to get words out. Instead he closes his eyes, shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn't know where to start if I told you.”
Elyse nods, giving reassuring pats. “If you need anything, I'm here, y’know?”
Lawrence stares at his monitor for a few minutes before turning away in resignation and gets up from his chair. He carelessly props himself onto the couch, with his arms and legs spread out. In response, Matt turns to look at his friend, and raises an eyebrow. A few groans escapes as Lawrence lets his body relax. It'd only be a few minutes, before he'd have to go back to work. As for now, Lawrence's mind strays from the chatter of the room, and he closes his eyes.
“Just a few minutes,” he murmurs to himself, his breaths slowing down into a more soothing rhythm.
The noise of the room hushes down, with the office lights becoming dimmer. Then, peace and quiet. No stress could come into his mind to ruin his mood.
“Hey, wake up,” a familiar voice then calls.
Lawrence slowly opens his eyes, and is a little surprised that the office lights were off. Perhaps there was some last minute horror gameplay they wanted to stream, or just wanted to conserve some energy before work ends.
A bit shaken up, Lawrence attempts to get up, but is then stopped by a hand on his chest. It is firm against him, but the hand had a touch of tenderness to it. But, he could clearly feel it as an open, unmoving palm.
“Hey, hey, hey, you might fall off now,” a gentle whisper says.
Lawrence looks to his left, and his eyes meet with a pair of unmistakable azure eyes. James, for some reason or another, is taking time out of his also busy day to divert his attention. For a few moments, it was as if he had woken up into another dream, to find James off of his persona while in the workplace.
“James? What's going on?” Lawrence asks, still not fully awake. He attempts to look around but it seems he forgot his glasses on his desk. He turns his gaze back to James, and could feel some unexplainable warmth run through his body. It was dizzying and dream-like, and Lawrence didn't want it to end. Perhaps there was something else to the interaction that causes Lawrence’s sudden calmness.
“You...well...fell asleep. I was just--”
Lawrence then tries to shove James out of the way, still dazed, realizing how much time he wasted by accidentally falling asleep. He frantically makes his way to his computer, which seems to be already turned off.
“Goddammit! What the fuck is wrong with me!?” Lawrence balls his fists up, and raises them, resisting his desire to slam them onto the desk. He then covers his face with both of his hands, and could almost collapse to his knees, but somehow did not. His legs stand firmly as he begins to whimper a bit, attempting to hold back tears. Again the stinging sensation comes back, as if to remind him of reality.
“It’s fine, Lawrence, you’ll have time tomorrow--” James tries to reason.
“What time is it?”
James looks around, then takes his phone out of his pocket. “It’s almost 9 PM.”
Lawrence moves his hands up, and hit his palms against his forehead. Noticing the destructive behavior, James rushes over and places himself in front of Lawrence, grabbing at Lawrence’s wrists. He grunts in response, trying to resist the grip.
“Lawrence, stop that. This isn’t okay for you to do,” James warns, holding back his temperament as best as possible. Not even within their comedic atmosphere did Lawrence brush out like this before. Something surely was out of place, and something in particular that Lawrence decided to keep to himself. “What's wrong? You never freak out over work this extremely.”
Lawrence takes a deep breath. And another. The fact that James sounds very worried makes his muscle loosen up. He lowers his hands, with James almost mirroring the motion, but still is holding on.
“Just...haven't been feeling my best,” Lawrence mutters, looking downwards. “And working...I thought it'd make it go away, but it's only made it worse...much worse.”
“Why not have an off day?” James gestures back to the couch, to which Lawrence nods slightly. James finally lets go of Lawrence's wrists.
“It's a busy week for us, we couldn't possibly afford to have that sort of a loss in staff,” Lawrence explains. He settles to the right side of the couch, with James taking the middle portion.
James takes a good look at his coworker, taking notice of his restless fingers curling into his palms, shaking leg, and the facial expression that looks like shame.
“Now tell me what's really wrong,” James asks, gently resting his hand onto Lawrence's leg. Again, it is an open palm, his fingers following the curve of Lawrence's thigh.
What little of a facade was left shatters within Lawrence, as he comes to terms with himself.The fists he created now loosen up, as he takes hold of James’ hand with his own, squeezing tightly.
“...I've been having a really bad week. I wake up to rough and rushed mornings, and driving is a pain when you wake up with a headache which you can't quite pin down the source of. Sort of beat myself up both physically and mentally to get through a really shitty day. Nothing major, just coffee doesn't do it for me recently…”
“I know how that feels. It takes a lot out of you, yeah?” James pulls himself a little closer to Lawrence.
“My hands are just so exhausted from it all. I wish I could stop even for a moment but I'm so focused on finishing my parts...I guess I'm really overwhelmed by it all, but to me, the only solution is to work more, and only hope to get a long break afterwards, not in between.”
James takes up Lawrence's hand, and pulls it a little closer for inspection. Slight quivers keeps the hand from being steady, along with a dry texture due to the lack of care.
“Hey...James…” Lawrence speaks up, observing James’ hand, then tracing upwards the forearm. Splotches of blue and purple mark the softer skin, while a light brown and even bits of red dominated the knuckles and fingers.
“Yeah?” James follows Lawrence's eyes, leading him onto his own skin. “Oh, don't worry about that--”
“How? You're so bruised up...why? I...I…” Lawrence didn't know how to start. He only cared for getting attention, but never even took a moment to ask how James is feeling, or even considered them. On top of that, his exaggeration seems even more fucked up, as his claims of beating himself up is nothing compared to the actual bruises.
“Hey, bud, it's okay. I'm here for you so that you hopefully don't end up where I am, okay?” James turns his body towards Lawrence, bringing up his arm to rest against a cushion of the couch, and letting go of their hand holding in consequence.
“James...these are really recent, how come I've only noticed them now? I...don't mean to sound so much like an ignorant dickhead...I can't believe I put my work above other people,” Lawrence remarks with a hint of disbelief. “Even myself.”
“I get to wear hoodies and long sleeved shirts more often thanks to the weather. And look, this isn't about me, this is about you.”
“But you clearly have it worse--” neither of them wanted to make it about themselves. Lawrence, having realized that James is worse off than himself, has now occupied no thoughts other than of his friend.
“I don't give a shit about myself. When I get stressed, I happen to punch some things and end up bruised, alright? All I cared about this past few days was to throw you some jokes when we recorded, or at least make Elyse verbally check up on you every now and then. You're right in saying we're so busy nowadays, but it doesn't mean I cared about you any less. Everyone else doesn't seem to notice as much, but I know it when you aren't okay,” James admits. “I've even slowly taken up a bit of the editing workload, if you even noticed, just to hopefully make it easier.”
With mouth agape, Lawrence tries to respond but fails. He feels bad for being blind to the factors James so lovingly controlled to make his life a little less painful.
“I haven't gotten around to really have a one on one, but it seems that we have some time now, so I'm going to let it all out,” he continues. “I'm not going to let you become how I am now. You are much better than that, Lawrence.”
Lawrence begins to tear up, as he traces his index finger across a portion of Jame's knuckles, near a bruised area. James is right to be supporting someone who is about to venture the path he took. Perhaps things will end up working out, but there is no way to be certain, and that is what scared Lawrence the most.
“I don't want to see you like this, though. If...you're here for me, I want to be here for you,” Lawrence confesses, looking intensely at James.
“Okay, these bruises don't last forever, alright? I'll be fine eventually, like nothing happened. But the physical heals much differently than the mental and emotional, you would know,” he counters, smiling a little.
“But they exist in the first place, which is concerning enough for me. Come on, James, at least let this be mutual. You’ve already given me more than I could ask for from this,” Lawrence pleads, not caring about how he sounds anymore. James sighs, but not from negativity, but of a form of relief. He gives in, and nods as a reply.
“Let’s at least take it slow now. Don’t worry about your work, just worry about getting some actual sleep tonight. I gotta find a way to make you less stressed out, and let you live your life.”
Lawrence snickers. “How about me staying over your place for the night? That might help, at least a bit.”
“Well hey, at least you won’t seem out of it if I ask you to sleep on the couch.”
