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papsiguesss · 3 months ago

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Fear in the Night Fixit: Chapter 5

Took me a while, but the boys are back! And they are both dealing with their blossoming crushes in… very different ways.

Heads up, James’ half in this chapter goes into some sensitive topics such as child abuse and homophobia.

It was past curfew at the asylum, and Michael lay in his bed, his back comfortably resting against his mattress.

He was far from going to sleep, though.

How could he be, after what had happened in the afternoon?

Intently staring at his prosthetic finally being attached to his shoulder again, he could not tear his eyes away from it as he remembered Dr. Grey putting it on him.

He knew that he was not supposed to sleep with the prosthetic on, but it was one of the few things that gave him that feeling of familiarity that he so desperately needed. And so, he kept it on. He did not want to be separated from it anymore.

It was strange… Ever since he had lost his left arm, he had felt… uncomfortable about his artificial limb. Its clunky movements only served as a reminder of the arm that he used to have. The arm that had been burnt to a crisp.

Not only that, but he did not like his boys seeing him like that… like an invalid. Having his prosthetic visibly out only made him feel self-conscious about himself. About the vulnerable and damaged position his body had found itself in, and the fragility of his own mind.

Robert had always told him that he should not feel ashamed for being the way he had become, but Michael had never grown to fully believe those words.

As much as he would like to stay in denial of the fact, he knew that no matter how much he tried, things could not go back to how they were before the fire.

His conversations with Peggy had been his biggest reminder of that sombre fact.

Back when he was still home, he would often stare at his portrait hanging in the school’s dining hall, remembering the days when everything was still perfect. Back when the school would be filled with laughter, not noises from a recording that he’d play over and over for years on end. When his wife still loved him, and the future still looked bright.

…Back when he had been happy.

But then the fire had to happen.

Everything had changed after that, and none of it had been for the better.

He still had the school, of course. And his boys, thankfully. The boys would always be there. As long as he had his recording tapes, they would still be right there with him. Michael remembered each and every one of their faces. How they laughed while chatting during class, how they played with each other during recess. Those memories were a bright light in the darkness, keeping him happy and giving him a purpose in life. His recordings were all he needed whenever he would feel himself becoming distraught again. Just hearing the sounds again would instantly transport him back into those happier days, numbing the pain and bringing him joy once more.

…That did not mean that there were no struggles, however.

While Molly and Robert had given him a way to relive his happy memories again, there were plenty of times when he would be cruelly snapped out of them. He hates those moments, but they made him realise that nothing what he was doing was real. His shoulder stump would begin to hurt. He would accidentally see his prosthetic. They were little things, but anything that would remind him of the fire would upset him so much that it made it difficult to even function sometimes. And it was tiring. So very, very tiring. Sometimes Michael wondered why he was even still alive.

None of these things had gotten better when he was admitted to the asylum. Life here had been an absolute living hell.

…Well… There was one thing, he supposed.

And that thing was Dr. James Grey.

By helping him put his prosthetic back on, the doctor had only managed to reinforce that belief even further.

Because he had managed something very special.

He had managed to make the headmaster feel fond of his prosthetic again.

Just by feeling it against his body, he could remember the gentle touch of Dr. Grey’s hands around his shoulders, and his soothing voice calming him down. How much he had made him blush, and how amazing it felt to have that familiar sensation of his prosthetic being attached back. He could not help but feel butterflies in his stomach as he thought back to it, a faint smile spreading across his lips as he slowly closed his eyes.

He could not quite explain what it was, but Dr. Grey made him feel a sense of joy that he had not experienced in a lot of years.

All he knew was that he longed for the doctor to be by his side. For them to be sharing each other’s company, talking about things that they enjoyed instead of anything related to the asylum. He still hoped that Dr. Grey would come to his room sometime so they could talk about the texts that the other had given him, sharing their passions so that Michael could be distracted from the suffering he found himself in, if even for a little while.

He could not fully put it to words, but the doctor made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Even now, he still felt himself blushing. He still had his worries. It still scared him just how much he relied on Dr. Grey. The last two people he had relied on had tried to have him killed, after all. It made it difficult for him to form… any meaningful connection, really. One that did not make him feel paranoid, at least. But somewhere in his heart… there was hope. Hope for that genuine connection. For that friendship, and their shared company.

Hope… that maybe he could be happy again.

***

Rain was starting to trickle down against the windows as James entered his apartment. Trying to give himself any distraction from the things that he was feeling at the moment, he quickly stuffed a meal into the microwave, waited until it was finished and then let himself sink into the couch as he ate his dinner, staring into the distance listlessly.

He tried to ignore his feelings, but the longer he did so, the more impossible it became for him to swallow even a single bite of his food.

Eventually, he just put down his plate.

…It was no use.

As much as he would like to deny it, he knew that he had felt a romantic spark just now.

Blushing, he remembered when Michael had embraced him after helping him with his prosthetic, and even now he still felt the butterflies in his stomach. He remembered the headmaster’s joyful eyes staring into his as they sparkled with happiness, and how they had made James’ heart skip a beat. His joyful tears, finally releasing all those pent-up emotions after his hellish treatment by the doctor’s coworkers. How adorable he had looked, and how-

James took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. He had to steer his mind away from these thoughts. He could not be thinking them. Not now. Michael Carmichael was his patient. Someone who heavily relied on him… not a romantic interest.

…There was another reason why even the idea of him having feelings for the headmaster sent a chill down his spine, though.

More specifically, it was because he was a man.

Letting out a deep, melancholic sigh, James stared down at the ground, a sad frown on his face as a nauseating feeling rose up in his stomach. Even though he was fully alone, it almost felt as if his parents were right there, observing him.

Judging him.

His father in particular was an image that he could not get out of his head. That was… unsurprising, he supposed.

He had never been fond of his youngest son.

There had never been a moment in James Grey’s life during which he had not been aware of the scorning looks coming from those around him. It was little things at first, but they had always been there.

James had always been told that he was too sensitive for a boy. As a child, he had been shy, reserved. He preferred to play with his stuffed animals instead of interacting with others of his age, and was very shy of confrontation. It did not take too much time before his father would resent him for all of these traits.

None of it had gotten better when he had reached his teen years and told his mother about his first crush.

There was a boy in his class, and James could not help but blush whenever he’d see him. He was everything that the shyer boy wished he could be. Charismatic, athletic, confident. He had always read in his books about a man and a woman sharing a special connection called ‘love’, and it did not take him long that he was perhaps feeling those things for his classmate. After all, why couldn’t two boys feel things for each other?, he had foolishly thought, and so he decided to tell his mother about it.

It turned out that he had been wrong, though. Oh, so terribly wrong.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, his dear mother’s face became as pallid as a corpse. She quickly left the room, all that little James could hear behind the door being a muffled conversation with his father.

…He did not take the news of his son’s innocent affection very well.

Bursting into the room, he glared at his child as if he were vermin, his eyes crackling with fury. “I raised a son”, he had said. “A son, you hear me, not some pathetic sissy like you turned out to be!”

…James could not fully remember what had happened afterwards, but those words his father had screamed at him had become engrained into his mind.

His father had tried everything in his power to make his son a ‘man’ again. Forcing him through sports, taking his favourite toys away - they were deemed too ‘feminine’ - and, once James had finished his education as a doctor, he had conscripted him for the navy.

The young man himself had been horrified as soon as he heard that he was to be hauled off to sea, but his father only told him that he would be welcome in the household again when he had finally ‘grown out of his phase’. Plus, given the war that had broken out, this would be the least he could do to serve his country, he was told.

Well, his army service did not really have the effects that his father would have liked to see, but at least it had given James a direction to go in life, in a strange way.

It made him realise that he wanted to become a psychiatrist.

Naval combat during the Second World War had been harrowing, and even though James never fought directly (having a degree in medicine, he had been assigned to the position of medic), he had seen the effects that the war had brought his companions. Of course, their bodies were broken, but the thing that stood out most to the young doctor was how shattered their minds had become.

It was then that James realised what kind of doctor he wanted to be. Not one that fixed bodies, but one that fixed minds.

After the war, it was all that he worked towards. His family was still disapproving of him, believing that he had not learned the correct lessons during his service, but the young doctor had simply accepted that they never would be proud of him regardless. Finally being accepted as a psychiatrist had felt like an enormous victory to him, and he could not have felt prouder of himself.

…There was one aspect to his father’s ‘lessons’ that he could not quite separate himself from yet, though.

And that was his attitude towards James’ homosexuality.

Ever since that dreaded confession, he had felt sick to his stomach whenever he noticed himself blushing about another boy again. And has he got older, he only learned that his father was not the only one that held sentiments like that over his attraction towards other men. In fact, it seemed like the entire world was hostile to those feelings, and it did not take James long to realise that it would be dangerous for him to be open about his orientation. He had chosen to suppress those feelings, to hide them from everyone else, if only so that he could be safe. It was better to be without a partner for the rest of his life than dead.

He thought that he had done quite a good job of burying his nature, but of course there was no escaping it in the end.

Because the things he felt when Michael’s arms had been around him certainly were not platonic in nature.

Running a hand through his hair, James squeezed his eyes shut, a single tear rolling down his cheek. What in God’s name was he supposed to do?

He was beyond repressing his feelings at this point. As soon as he had acknowledged them, he knew that there was no going back.

He also knew that he could not act on them, though. Not only for his own sake, but mostly for Michael’s.

Michael was his patient. He was extremely dependent on his care, especially given his fear for the other asylum workers (which, in all honesty, the doctor could not blame him for). He was in an extremely vulnerable position, and James knew that he was one of the few people that had a chance of helping him escape it. He knew that the headmaster valued his company like no other, and the James felt the same way, but he also knew that his duties as a doctor came first.

His emotions would have to come second.

Taking a deep breath, the doctor opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling as he leaned back.

He would simply have to wait out and see how this would all unfurl, he thought to himself.

Maybe this was just a simple spark, nothing more. Maybe he would get rid of his attraction as time went on.

Regardless of what would happen, though... he knew one thing.

Michael was in need of his help. And so... that was what he endeavoured to give.

#i promise to post some wholesome art of the boys soon because dear lord i need it after writing james’ part #it definitely was tough to write at some parts #fear in the night fixit #fear in the night #michael/james #michael carmichael #james grey (oc)#hammer horror #hammer husbands #peter cushing #christopher lee #fanfic #my writing

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