#heart pain

[writing-whump]

Could we get a little ficlet or a long fic, I wouldn’t mind either, about how Isaiah feels now that most of the truth is out?

Maybe him angsting over it at home, with Sel and Mat sprinkled in there. Or however else you see this going.

This just had to happen. Very angsty. Thank you for the request!!

Falling apart

Since Isaiah realized what Hector meant, there had been a strange shrieking noise in his ears.

He couldn't fall apart around Hector, of course, the worry for him, the responsibility and regret at that moment were enough to let him focus.

But Isaiah couldn't fall apart during the meeting either. It was a work meeting, so of course he had to push all that back.

He also couldn't afford to fall apart during the car ride. That was dangerous, he could hit somebody.

Everything was too loud and too hazy and he needed to get out of the public, away from the people, into safety.

So he went home.

The sheer relief at closing the door behind him into space that was just his, that he didn't have to hold out or pretend for anyone, where no attacks would be coming, where the world had no right to enter or see him like this...

He looked at himself in the mirror. His suit was straight and nice, his face looked smooth and normal. There was no outward sign. He was okay. He made it home.

Then he remembered he wouldn't be alone for long. He was early today, but Matt and Seline would soon follow...

God, he didn't want them to see him fall apart either.

But there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to go. They shared an apartment, they shared a room with Matthew. He couldn't hide from them, from the world for days at a time to break in peace, like before when he still had his own place.

Maybe he should have left it running. Lease it for empty, for opportunities like this.

But there was no way to keep them from looking for him there either.

Isaiah shook his coat off half-heartedly instead of hanging it up and went to the balcony.

It was a small balcony, but they had a roof apartment, so the view was good. A piece of sky, just for him.

Wolves always craved open spaces in distress. The walls felt suffocating to Isaiah, the warmth, the light, the promise of company.

He should have at least insisted on having a room of his own to get locked in. Maybe he could climb up on the roof to have some privacy? That would still count as if he was home.

He wanted to drown in a river or get stranded in a forest, or jump from the roof. Didn't think those were exactly healthy solutions though. It would upset them.

He sat in the rattan style terrace sofa, looking at the buildings and then higher, to the sky. It was early after sundown, so the colours were still bright purple and dark blue, darkness taking over.

That was when the pain came. Hot and searing, like a blade, cutting through his heart.

He jolted in his seat, hand digging into the armrest. He expected that, braced himself for it, for his heartbeat to suddenly go from imperceptible to painful.

The intensity still suprised him.

There was a wave of relief as the pain subsided and he slumped back, gulping down air.

His stomach twisted into knots, partly from the knowledge the pain would soon return and partly because his digestive system always stopped working when a heart episode hit him like that. He could feel it churning and bloating immediately, refusing to digest the rest of his lunch.

He stayed quietly in that chair, seeing as the night fell on the skyline and the buildings. The pleasant warmth of the spring day retreated to biting cold.

Isaiah liked the cold. It was somehow soothing against the sweat and the waves of heat that came when his heart seized and made a hole in his insides for the fun of it.

He didn't want them to find out. He never meant for them to find out. He didn't want to destroy Hector's ideal, no matter how fictional. He didn't want Arnie to feel left out. He didn't want them to live with the awareness that their father, their flesh and blood could fail so monumentally.

That they had madness running in their family tree.

He also didn't want them to know how much he had failed. How long he believed in his father and listened to him, defended him, loved him and tried to save him. How many things he did that he hated and knew were wrong, felt were wrong, but did them anyway.

In a way there was comfort to the rhythm of the pain. When it came, it took over his mind and senses so much he couldn't think.

His mind went blank and the thoughts stopped eating at him. He looked forward to the shock and blindness as much as he feared it.

"Oi, Zaya? What are you doing there?" Matthew's voice cut through his meditative agony like a falling star.

Matthew shuffled closer, the balcony door shutting behind him. "It's fucking cold here. Can you see the mosquitos? They are having a feast on you, man. Come inside."

Mosquitos? No, he didn't notice. Least of his problems.

If he didn’t say anything, would Matt leave him alone?

No such luck. Matthew came closer instead, crouching down. "Hey. Zaya. Is something wrong?"

Matthew waited for an answer but Isaiah just shook his head, sighing softly. Matt craned his neck up inside, waving at someone, then sat down next to Isaiah on the rattan sofa.

He put his hand on Isaiah's forearm, stretched down on the armrest. "Zaya? You are freaking me out. Please talk to me."

The balcony door and the net against the flies went open, Seline joining them on the balcony. "Hi. Are we having dinner outside? It's a little dark for that."

She came closer. Isaiah couldn't look at her. He was afraid of what she would see.

The blade cut into him then with a new force and he gasped, bowing down.

Matthew's hand was on his shoulder that second, holding him up.

Seline's much smaller delicate hands came to rest on his other arm. "Hey, sweetie. What happened? Can you tell me what happened?"

Isaiah chuckled hysterically, making them both jump at the sound.

"Is he hurt?" Seline said quietly to Matthew who made a helpess shrugging gesture.

"Isaiah." she rubbed his arm, something scared in her tone.

"They know," Isaiah said quietly, feeling like he went mad himself for he was smiling, pressing one palm against his face, covering his left eye. "They know everything. In fucked it up so bad, now they both know."

There was a stunned silence.

"Who knows, sweetie?"

"Hector and Arnie." It was like the seat was shaking underneath him. Why was it shaking? He looked around, letting his hand fall.

"What do they know?" Seline's voice was calmer now, soothing, gentle. Like she was talking to a wounded bird that could fall off the tree if she spoke too loud.

"About father." That's when Isaiah realized it was him who was shaking. Full-bodied terrible shivers all over him, from head to toe like he had a fever.

Matthew's hold on his shoulder tightened.

"What do they know about your father?"

Isaiah's breath hitched, his heartbeat in his ears. "T-they know everything. A-about the training, and what father did to me...how he his shadow went mad and how I had to- I had to challange him, I had to make him step down- but I couldn't- and then I had to leave, I had to-for the pack I had to- but I had to leave them behind- I had-" he broke off with a sob, not sure if he was making any sense.

"And now they know and now you are going to know, and- God, then you will leave me and they will hate me for it, they will know what I did-"

His teeth chattered together, although he wasn't cold, he was boiling, he was cooking in his own skin. Everything was itching and burning and he wanted to scratch it off, get the feeling off and stop feeling it.

"Sweetie, can I touch your face, or will it make it worse?" Seline let go of his arm, hands hovering.

Isaiah nodded to her, not seeing how this could be any worse.

She pushed a strand back from his face and behind his ear, the softest most tentative touch. "Shhhhhhh. It's okay. Let it out. You are okay, you can tell us."

Isaiah let out a dry sob, hands twitching. He felt Matthew reaching over to drape his arm over his shoulders.

"I did- I thought I did the best for the pack- I don't know, I don't know what else I should have done, but it was wrong, it was all wrong! I shouldn't have- I hate that- I don't want to go back there." He looked at her pleadingly, suddenly terrified out of his mind he would have to go back."

"You don't have to go back." Seline stroked his cheek. "You don't."

"I wanted to leave so bad." The admission made something in him crack, he could feel the crack in his chest, making his ears ring. "I couldn't- I couldn't stay there, I couldn't- but I left them all alone, I should have taken them with me, I should have found a way-"

"It wasn't your fault. You had two bad choices and you did the best you could at the time. You didn't want to leave them. They will understand."

"No, they won't! They will hate me for this, just like I hate me for everything- and they will never forgive me, and I left them, do you understand I left them there, for some greater good of the pack nonsense-"

Something hot and wet ran down his cheek. And then another, little hot droplets of pain dripping into his lap. "And you will hate me too, I'm just waiting for you to leave, you should both leave- but I'm so scared of when you will-" The crack was getting bigger, splitting him in half, cutting him open. He looked down at his chest, expecting his organs spilling out by now. The pain would certainly justify it.

He felt Matthew groan like the words hurt him.

Seline took his hand into both of hers, squeezing, gluing herself to his side as the shivers wracked his frame.

Matthew did something similar, tugging Isaish against his side like a pillar made of steel. His hand landed on Isaiah's.

Isaiah was cracking, but they were both pressing against him as if to hold him together with their own bodies.

He felt their warmth, Seline's scent like fresh breeze, Matthew's chest rising and falling next to his.

Two more shudders rocked him, but he felt them dying down, the shaking subsiding. Only his hands were left, trembling.

Isaiah squeezed their hands back, the grip on Matt and Seline somehow anchoring. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to apologize-"

"But I'm so sorry," he repeated, needing them to understand. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, sorry, sorry-"

His vision went blurry from the onslaught of tears and he curled into himself, sobbing like a child.

Matthew let go of his hand, which made Isaiah wince, but then his arm came around Isaiah's shoulders, tugging him forward into him.

Isaiah buried his face between Matthew's shoulder and neck, grateful for the cover, for the presence, for the strength. Matthew held him tight, like he was aware Isaiah's ribcage would come flying out if he let go.

Seline wiggled her way under Isaiah's arm, her side against his, her hands wrapped around his middle. Like a warm blanket.

"I miss 'em so much," he wailed quietly into Matthew's shirt while wetting it with tears.

Seline's head came to rest over his heart, holding him snuggly.

They didn't leave.

They stayed like that, in that cold, mosquitos ramming into them.

Isaiah wasn't sure how they were puzzled together anymore. It was a mix of limbs and breaths.

A cocoon of warmth and beating hearts.

[confessionsofasadblackgirl]

My heart is bleeding.

The floods of water coming from eyes tells me I was in too deep.

I drowned.

My heart no longer beats.

Just bleeds.

[randomstress]

This part of me

desperately

wants to write a poem

about onion skins.

It was taken

with the idea of chewing them

for a while—for years.

Then,

just now,

my heart hurt,

physically, I mean, I've

never felt something like that.

It felt fibrous,

and weak,

and like a pulled muscle, but

pulled muscles only hurt when you

move them. This part of me

pictured my heart as if it were

woven from dried spring

onion greens, fibrous,

and weak, but only just enough

to be worrying, when tested.

The weave ought to hold out.

It always has, so

far. This part of me, which is older younger, thinks

of a person who marks it, who

is linked to so much

nature I am

thinking about their heart, too, all

burnt indigo skies and

stars and

the little fibres of

paper when you

let it into your life in more than one way

and the moon

and the canal in my hometown greens

its willow fronds and whispers like I think a friend might

but it's always been lovers who've gotten that close, so

far.

[dogoljmegxd]

Utálom az embereket, mert képesek összetörni téged és utána úgy élik tovább az életüket, mintha mi sem történt volna, bele se gondolva abba hogy mekkora fájdalmat okoztak neked

[perfection-is-an-opinion]

~I am searching for a word that means, "invoking such a deep feeling of sadness that it causes physical pain; a feeling so strong it cuts through to the marrow of your soul, leaving you shaking, scared for your life, and writhing in pain" is there a word for that? Because "Melancholy" doesn't really seem to be strong enough...~

-a poem of a new kind

[albanstrongheart]

Oh I have Heart pain !

[lucylebaux16]

Am I that easy to forget?

Unknown

[splittingpotenzial]

I dont wanna be strong anymore ..

[mamiianes]

Yk when you are really sad and your heart hurts like hell? Literally so weird dude.

[mee-meez]

دَاوِي جَرَّاح قَلبِي يَا اَللَّه فلم أَعُد أَستطِيع التَّحَمُّل.

[writing-whump]

Pain at night

Isaiah has a heart episode at night. Matthew helps. Reluctance to ask for help, emeto, crying.

Something was off with Isaiah.

Matthew didn't know if he was getting paranoid or just better at reading the guy even when he wasn't trying anymore.

But Isaiah was quiet in the morning, not hurrying out the same way as he would, not ready to go in his suit as always and drinking water instead of tea...that was very weird.

Matthew wondered if it could be the approaching holiday - neither he or Isaiah had a family to visit. The prospects for this year were the two of them at their new place watching Christmas fairy tales. Which was better than any other year before in Matthew's book.

Isaiah's car was parked the same way when Matthew checked in the evening, though he had a button up shirt again, there was a lack of new scents on his clothes.

They watched a movie that night the same as always. Matthew and Seline exchanged a look, but Matthew knew Seline's approach in these things was very...hands off. If Isaiah didn't want to tell her something, she backed off, giving him space instead. He wasn't sure if she felt hurt, whenever Isaiah hid something from her, if she was trying to let him decide when and what he told her or if she just felt insecure in their relationship to fuss. Or maybe she wasn't that much of a fussy person?

Matthew thought she was bossy and meddling enough, when she got the opportunity.

Seline snuggled a lot more closely and openly to Isaiah that night, looking more at Isaiah's face than at the movie. But she said nothing.

Matthew wasn't sure if he was supposed to say something. The whole caretaking gig was Isaiah's specialty. He was out of his element here.

Isaiah dozed off at the end of the movie, propped up by several pillows. Another thing very unlike him.

Seline kissed Isaiah on top of the head, giving Matthew a look, before disentangling herself and heading upstairs.

Matthew was on his stomach, pillow over his head, dozing off himself, though watching her go.

Maybe it was alright. If Isaiah had a problem or felt sick, he would tell them, right? It was a reasonable thing to do and Isaiah was the most reasonable out of their little pack.

So Matthew relaxed, letting the movie play to the end as he napped a bit more. Isaiah was just a reach of the hand away, anyway, it was fine...

He woke up to his neck cranking from the position. The movie was long over, only the Chromecast wallpapers still lighting up the room. Matthew lifted himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. He would just shuffle over to bed and keep on sleeping.

Isaiah was awake, green eyes staring in the dark. He held himself weirdly locked in place, muscles tense, but not moving. Like he was about to move, but did not.

Matthew stood up, circling the sofa so he could brush next to Isaiah inconspicuously. "You not gonna head into bed, man? It's like 1.30 am."

Isaiah said nothing, though his lips were pressed tightly together and he leaned forward a bit, hands braced on his knees. Clenched in the fabric of his pants.

Matthew frowned. "You okay?"

Isaiah seemed to have been in an intense internal debate, his eyes glazing over, but forehead creased in concentration.

"Oh Christ," Matthew muttered sharply, "just spill it out already."

Isaiah's head jerked up in surprise.

"Do you need help or what?"

Isaiah lowered his gaze again, which made Matthew look closer. There was sweat on the side of his face, the hair around his ear wet and plastered to the skin. He was taking measured deep breaths, but there was still that weird tension in him, all stiff and frozen.

His shadow wasn't up at all though, not even changing from its normal human shape. So nothing wrong on that front at least.

"Could you...ehmm...help me walk?"

Matthew's eyebrows shot up, and he wanted to ask more, but Isaiah's ashamed look to the floor changed his mind. He hated Isaiah felt like that when asking for help. Even from him.

Matthew bit back the freaked out What's wrong with you? with effort. "Sure thing. Come on." He offered his hand to him. Isaiah reached for it without lifting his gaze, using it to pull himself up.

Matthew was right. He didn't need to ask questions, cause he was going to find out from Isaiah's hold anyway.

And Isaiah's hold was weak. He needed Matthew's strength to lift himself up from the sofa and he still muffled a pained gasp at the movement.

Matthew wrapped his arm around his shoulders and Isaiah sagged against him immediately before catching a bit of his balance. This was a close enough hold to note other things as well, like that there was no heat whatsoever. If anything, Isaiah felt cold to the touch and his legs were wobbly. They took slow steps towards the bedroom, Matthew growing more and more alarmed, wondering what he could ask that wouldn't have his friend immediately on the defensive.

After the slow walk that felt like forever, Matthew gently positioned Isaiah back onto the back, wracking his head with what this could be. Isaiah's breathing picked up and he was holding himself stiff and bowed again, fingers immediately curling into the mattress in pain. This reminded Matthew of something he had seen before.

Reminded of the incident with Isaiah's heart, he went under Isaiah's pillow unceremoniously until he found the pajamas. "You are changing out of that," Matthew announced, sitting down beside Isaiah and helping him with the buttons.

Isaiah didn't protest, though he sighed heavily.

"I thought this thing got solved," Matthew muttered under his nose. "That the heart pain came, because you didn't let your shadow out enough. We spar all the time. Why is it happening now?"

Isaiah gave him a side look, lips still pressed in that thin line. "It's fine. It just...happens sometimes. No big deal." It sounded like he had to get that out through clenched teeth.

"It happens...so it happens frequently? Regularly?"

Isaiah nodded slightly, staring across the room towards Matthew's bed.

"You realize that's not a normal thing to happen, right?" Matthew said dryly. Wolves didn't get chronic pains, they didn't take painkillers and they didn't get sick like this out of nowhere. Injuries and pains didn't just repeat themselves like this. It didn't make any sense.

Isaiah just hunched his shoulders. "Can we just...not do this right now?"

"Oh, now he is going to pull the pain card," Matthew grumbled, but accepted he wasn't getting more answers tonight. Isaiah looked pained, all drawn lines and pale under the lamp.

Matthew helped him change into pajamas, glad he remembered something helpful from the previous experience. "Anything else I can do? Do you want some water? Painkillers?"

Isaiah shook his head, though he moved like an old man, carefully and slowly sliding under the blankets, that frown not once easing up. "I'm fine. Just need to sleep."

Matthew rolled his eyes, hoisting the covers from under Isaiah to spare him the struggle, pulling it over him as Isaiah drooped against the pillow, taking one more to prep it over each other.

Matthew got ready for bed himself, checking over Isaiah for the last time before shutting the light off. "You tell me if it gets worse," he said towards Isaiah in his last attempt.

Isaiah was frowning, but his eyes were shut in protest. Matthew switched the light off, hoping the worst of the night was over.

***

"-tthew? Matthew?"

Matthew wiggled under the covers. He was so damn tired, staying up so late and yet still keeping up with his runs, even on holidays. Maybe he should change his routine without uni in the way.

"Matt..."

That was annoying. The voice was soft, more like a whisper, but insistent.

Almost pleading.

The thought got him wide awake as he lifted himself up in a hurry, blindly reaching for the switch on the bedside table lamp.

"Zaya? What's- Jesus fucking Christ."

Matthew was not expecting that. The light spilled over the room, showing a sweaty, shaky Isaiah on his side on the bed with the floor covered in brown-yellow vomit.

Shooting up to his bare feet, Matthew fought a gag on his own as the smell hit him. How come the sound of retching didn't wake him up sooner?

Isaiah made a soft coughing sound, leaning forward like he did in the living room, bringing up more watery vomit to join the mess. Matthew didn't realize until now he must have been fighting nausea back then too.

Yeah, with sounds like that, no wonder Matthew slept right through it. It was the quietest puking he ever heard.

It looked like Isaiah didn't have to strain at all, cause even when his arms shook as he held himself up, his mouth flooded with foamy vomit and dripped down onto the floor. At least the covers seemed untouched.

Next, Isaiah made a sound Matthew had never heard from him before. He whimpered.

That got him out of his shocked paralysis. Matthew circled the mess and the bed, climbing into Isaiah's queen bed from behind.

"Okay, man. Just...just breathe, okay? I got you." He took Isaiah by the shoulders, lifting him into a sort of sitting position. Isaiah folded his legs underneath him, sagging against Matthew's chest, breathing hard. Obviously relieved at not to having to carry his own weight anymore.

Isaiah's throat bobbed convulsively though and he shut his eyes, a small burp working its way up.

Matthew winced in sympathy. "You feel like you are done?"

"D-don't know. S-still f-feeling terribly nauseous." The black-haired man shivered, teeth chattering together like he was freezing.

Matthew rubbed his arm up and down on instinct, trying to steady him. "Okay. Can you hold on a sec? I'll bring you something."

He leaned Isaiah against the headboard and the wall behind it, propping him up, before quickly locating and grabbing the trashcan under Isaiah's table. Thankfully, cleared out and empty.

The red-haired wolf put the trashcan into Isaiah's lap. Isaiah leaned over it, spitting some drool.

His breathing hitched and he gagged, almost tipping to the side, wasn't it for Matthew quickly propping him back up as he burped into the trashcan emptily.

"Think you got rid of everything on the floor, man," Matthew chuckled uneasily. "Too late for this."

Isaiah gagged last time, then groaned, letting go of the trashcan that fell to the side on his legs.

"I'm so so sorry," he said, voice trembling, bordering on a sob. "I couldn't get up, I just couldn't-"

"Hey, hey, hey. It's fine. Nothing happened, man. We can clean that up no problem." Matthew felt a little irritated Isaiah didn't mention the nausea sooner. He could have been better prepared for this.

"I'm sorry," Isaiah repeated, gulping down another sob. "It's usually not this bad, but today it's just...ugggggh..." Isaiah burped, fist pressing against his lip while the other went to the left side of his chest, to his heart.

"Today it's what?" Matthew prompted.

Isaiah sagged to the side again and Matthew gave up, simply sitting down next to him so they could be shoulder to shoulder and his sick friend could lean against him.

Isaiah sighed gratefully, closing his eyes.

"You are okay. Do you want to lie down?"

"No-urrrrp-no. Doesn't hurt so bad...when I sit. Can't breathe...it's like a weight crushing me..."

Ahh. That explained why he had piled up the pillows.

"Okay. You are okay. We can stay like this." Matthew assured, letting Isaiah lean all his weight against his arm and side.

"'s not okay," Isaiah's voice wavered dangerously, breathing speeding up. "This isn't normal. It just keeps happening and it's getting worse...and oh God, it hurts so bad, Matt..." Isaiah clutched at his chest with both hands, twisting the fabric of his loose shirt in his fingers like he wanted to drill into that spot.

Matthew's own chest twisted in sympathy and pain at the sight. Not only did he not understand this pain, not only did Isaiah feel incredibly ashamed of it - he was scared. If Isaiah himself was scared of something, how could Matthew be of any use?

He snaked an arm around Isaiah's back, pressing him even closer against him, squeezing his nape and holding his head gently against his shoulder.

Isaiah all but buried his face against it at the contact, shaking and sobbing quietly. Like he was still scared to be too loud, like he was still holding back, even then.

"Shhhhh. I got ya, I got ya, I promise. It will be fine. It's fine." Matthew didn't even know what he was saying at his point, letting Isaiah cry like that into his shirt. It was freaking him out something terrible, but he also couldn't move or indulge the emotion, when his best friend was hurting like that.

Isaiah's sobs died down slowly, his breahing steadying. He tried to pull away, but Matthew held him gently, resisting the move until he gave up. He burped against his shoulder once, frame rocking with the movement, before he went limp.

Matthew's arm hurt a little as Isaiah leaned against it, exhausted enough to sleep, though his features were still pinched and pained.

Matthew didn't close his eyes once during the night, holding Isaiah up in his sleep.

If this helped with the pain even a tiniest bit, it would be worth it.

@bellysoupset

[amerasdreams]

ok that's it! Just gotta cut off from here.

Put some good things on . 💙💛 I hope they do some good and at least are words that support good.

But -- must be oafa. Must.

And this, a relic, frozen in time.

[lollypopppsstuff-blog]

Some people will leave you because they are afraid of real things💥

[angelnumber27]

I am having very specific localized pain directly where my heart is

have mercy plz just let my body feel normal and not in pain for once. Just today

[notabipolarbear]

Lol! Ice cream face! Been on the aripiprazole for over a week now and I've been very fatigued. When I get overly stressed I get severe chest pains now. Not sure if it's med related or coincidence. I had pain last night, and I'm still a little sore in the chest today. It's like my heart is being hurt and it's taking longer for it to recover each time. 😐 it's kind of scary, really... but the psychiatrist says persist with the medication 💊 🤷‍♀️ one of my hedgehogs passed away, bramble. He wasn't very well for a while, so it was probably better for him really, he didn't have much of a life after having his stroke. I'll miss him. I wonder what today will bring. Hopefully something interesting 🤔 I'll maybe make some art... its 9:19am so far here...

[lucylebaux16]

I let down my walls for you,

but you only made me remember why I built them so high.

Mansi