#ive just kinda spent all day laying on my floor in pain

[galaxae]

had an extremely triggering conversation today, then saw that my parents (who are very directly related to my triggers) had both emailed me wishing me a happy birthday, and then also saw another pretty triggering convo in a discord server, i just, aghghghgh

[yeahimaloser]

Wingless

Hello! So this was the fic I've been working on, and I just wanted to quickly say this is an AU-based fic (Kinda).

WARNING MANGA SPOILERS

So I understand what's going on in the manga, but I started this fic when Keigo was injured. so I wrote a fic about how Keigo and you would deal with him losing both his wings and a part of himself.

this story contains manga spoilers, as well as warnings of mental and physical abuse (kind of), hurt to comfort, mentions of Depression, blood, someone gets glass stuck in their hand, and therapy.

no pronouns are given to the reader. Word count: 7k

. . .

You practically ran through the hospital, not listening to the nurses and doctors as they told you to slow your pace. Your mind only screamed out for him, screaming for him to be alive, for him to just be okay. You could hear your heart thumping hard against your chest, tears spilling down your cheeks.

As you ran near his room, a doctor finally managed to stop you.

“Please, calm down! He’s in this room but I can not allow you in if you act like this. You will only stress my patient out more, and we have just managed to sedate him.” the doctor held out his hands as he spoke, trying to calm you.

Although, it clearly wasn’t working. Your eyes only shone more with brimming tears, your hands shook as the doctor spoke.

After a few minutes of you catching your breath and calming yourself down, the doctor told you that you were able to see him.

You felt as if your whole body was on fire as you walked through the doors to his hospital room.

The window that overlooked the city gave an impressive view (if it wasn’t in a hospital, you probably would have stopped and looked down at the city below). The bathroom, you could see, was on your left. There was even a vanity and a television in the room as well.

But you really didn’t have time to look around, your eyes were already focused on the man that lay on the hospital bed.

Machines were hooked up to him, tubes ran out of his skin every witch way. He was flipped on his stomach to accommodate his wings or lack thereof. Bandages covered almost every area you could see, the blood on them was minimal, yet they looked new, meaning they had been changed.

You rushed to his side, stopping only when the line of his IV almost collide with your foot.

“Keigo,” you said it so lightly you were afraid only you could even hear it.

But Keigo’s eyes shot open, looking up at you, “...Y/N?”

God, his voice was a raspy mess, it sounded as though it wasn’t even his.

If you could, you would break down right then and there. Crying over him, telling him you were there for him, that you would always be there for him, no matter the hardships he was sure to overcome. You wanted desperately to hold him, to whisper love-filled words to him, to wipe away the pain you knew he was feeling.

But you didn’t, you couldn’t.

You knew you had to be strong for him in that moment, and for all the moments yet to come. You knew that what was going to happen to you two would not be easy.

So you couldn’t cry, no matter how much you wanted to.

You lightly stroked his cheek, “I’m here Kei, I’m right here. I won't leave you.”

Silent tears ran down his face as he spoke, his voice cracking, “I’m sorry.”

----

After what happened with Dabi Toya, the commission tried their best to cover everything up, telling the public that Dabi had to be wrong. But the public eye was persistent.

The truth was out, there was nothing you or Keigo could do to stop it. Everyone knew about his name, his father, and what he had done to Twice, as well as the fact that he had lost to Dabi. You knew it would be hard for him to come back to that.

The media had always been a bit ruthless when it came to Keigo, but now, it was up by tenfold. They talked about how they believed that Keigo was not worthy of his hero title. A false hero they called him.

And Keigo?

Luckily, he didn’t hear very much of it. You made sure of that. You wanted him to rest, to let what had happened wash over him little by little, and you knew if he heard what the news had been saying about him, that he might never recover.

When Keigo was a bit more stable, he still rarely talked.

His eyes didn’t shine like they used to, his face, once so uplifting and beautiful, was marred with a long scar that he had on his face.

But no matter what, you stayed with him, no matter what, you would be by his side.

But seeing Keigo like this? It was unbearable.

He would only eat if you were there to persuade him, he would only look at you if you practically begged him to.

You knew it was a selfish want, you knew it was, but you wanted your Keigo back. You wanted the man who held you in his arms, telling you he would fly to the moon and back if it meant you would give him your love. You wanted the man that stopped at nothing to protect others, you wanted the man that smiled when the going got tough, you wanted Keigo.

But you had to accept that this was Keigo.

And you wouldn’t leave him, you couldn’t. He was always there for you when you needed him most, and you weren’t going to do the same.

After what had happened with Keigo, the commission thought it would be best to send him away, let the media storm die down, letting him also take time to heal his wings.

You had to fight them in order to come as well. At first, they told you that Hawks should just be concerned with getting his wings back and becoming “hero ready”.

You should have known. You knew, of course, that the HPSC was corrupted, but you didn’t think they were heartless. Yet, you were proven wrong.

You wished they could understand, you wished everyone could understand. Keigo was so loving and kind, you just wished people would understand that about him. What Keigo had to do to Twice… you knew he didn’t want to kill him, Keigo wasn’t like that. He didn’t take pleaser in violence, all he wanted was to see others happy.

And it made your blood boil that the higher up’s couldn’t understand.

You told them how Keigo needed someone to be his caretaker, and you would be the best candidate. You knew he wouldn’t object, you told them that you would work for free, seeing as he and you had been dating, as well as living together for the last few years.

Finally, with a lot of persuading, they agreed.

They sent you and Keigo to a remote location near the shores of Japan, seeing as they wanted Keigo to not remember the effects of the fight, and thought the best course of action was to send him so far out that he would have nothing to remind him of, “The Incident”.

The house was a small little thing, a lot smaller than what you and Keigo were used to at least.

It was close to the ocean, giving it a more country feeling rather than the city vibe you and Keigo used to live in. The smell of the ocean hit you full force when you two arrived, the salty, yet homie smell was a nice difference to the fullness of the air of the city.

The home had a total of seven rooms, all on the same floor.

The master bedroom had enough space, it fit a bed, a vanity, and a closet as well as a connection to the master bathroom. The walls were painted a low white, you wouldn’t call it cream however that was the closest rendition. The floors were all wood, you could feel the sand beneath your feet, you had a feeling the stuff would get everywhere.

There were three bathrooms, a guest room, a living room, and a kitchen.

The whole house honestly just felt...nice.

The floors felt grainy against your feet, but it felt weirdly cozy, kind of like how a beach house should feel. The carpeting was a bit musty for your taste, you had a feeling that would be your first project to do with the house. The couch was a bit too firm, you expected that, but still, it just needed to be worn in. The kitchen wasn’t big, but for two people, it would do.

You spent the first week moving in, all by yourself.

Keigo would only stay in bed, looking out the window, in some far-off world he was in.

You wanted to cry when you would walk into the master bedroom and see him upright on the mattress, not doing or saying anything, just staring, a shell of the man you once knew.

It made your heart clench though, normally, Keigo would always be the first to lend a helping hand, that was just his nature, to want to help. But this, this was something that broke you even more.

-----

The first few weeks were rough.

Not hard, just rough.

The only way you could even describe Keigo was just numb.

His eyes were sunken, his hair a tattered mess. His face was droopy, the once perfect-looking man now sat alone in bed, looking as though he was almost near death.

And his scar.

It served as a perfect reminder of what had happened, a symbol of the pain Keigo had gone through. You knew what he felt when he saw it, you knew what he was probably thinking when he looked in the mirror to have the long stripe of red and pink looking back at him.

Yet, you pretended not to notice.

He would barely say anything to you, choosing instead, to be silent.

For the first few days, it was hard to get him out of bed, hard for him to even eat anything.

On most days you found yourself sitting alone when you ate, going on walks by yourself on the sandy beach, watching TV all alone.

You missed him, it was hard not to. But you knew that this was hardest on Keigo, so of course, you let him have all the time he needed. Letting him sulk and wallow in his self-pity, letting his feelings shroud him. You felt as though you had to, he had every right to feel this way.

But it was hard.

It was hard having Keigo sleep in the master bedroom while you slept all alone in the guest, it was hard to be so silent in the house, it was hard living with someone who was basically a ghost.

One day though, you found him crying.

You quickly ran over to him, scared that he had somehow hurt himself. But he didn’t, nothing had happened to him.

But he sat straight up in his bed, shaking like he was cold, his hands wrapped around something you couldn’t see.

“Keigo, honey?” you asked carefully as you stepped into the room, “Is everything ok hun?”

But it was like he couldn’t even hear you, whatever he was holding, it certainly had his attention.

You walked slowly over to him, reaching out to him, like he was a wounded animal, “Keigo? What is it?”

Finally, you managed to see what it was.

It was a picture of him, of him with his beautiful red wings, smiling at the camera in his hero outfit, with one hand giving a thumbs up and the other around your waist.

In comparison to the picture, you could barely tell it was Keigo anymore. With his sunken eyes and hollow cheekbones, the scar is a stripe of change.

“Keigo I-” you took a deep breath, what were you supposed to even say? How could you even console him? How could you help ease his pain?

You couldn’t.

So you just held him, held him in your arms, trying to hide your tears from him, so he wouldn’t see you hurting as well.

. . .

But one day, when you were sitting on the porch of your borrowed home, watching the waves hit the sandy beach below, watching the sun as it hit the horizon.

It was bitter-sweet, you were all alone, watching the beautiful sight without anyone to share it with.

You sighed, contemplating whether or not to go back inside, but then... Keigo came.

It startled you, you weren’t expecting him to come off his bed, much less to see you.

He sat down in the nice little chair that was right next to you.

He didn’t say anything for a good few moments, but then, all of a sudden he spoke.

“The ocean looks really pretty, I like...I like being here with you.”

You were shocked, to say the least. Keigo had barely acknowledged your presence during this time, he hadn’t spoken to you at all during these few weeks. So to hear him say that...

You damn near cried.

You had been holding in your anxiousness and, overall, depression of not having Keigo back to his regular self. It was hard, that much was certain, but still, he was going through such a difficult time, you had to be there for him.

You quickly brushed the tear that had feel from your eye, “I-I like being here with you too.”

----

After that, things were...different.

Keigo was a bit more clingy, although, maybe you should say protective.

You would go out on your walks and would come home to him being upset, asking where you were, and fussing about you going out.

“Well, what if something happened? Just stay here.”

You asked the doctors about that, they told you how some patients latched on to certain things or people after a traumatic event, most of the time clinging desperately to what they felt was the only thing they had left.

They told you his newfound desire to be near you could be a sign of him getting worse, or it could be a sign he was getting better.

The doctor told you it was much more likely that Keigo needed something to hang on to, a sort of attachment. And again, they told you Keigo needed to see a therapist, he had so much trauma after the battle that you probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.

You knew that you should listen and that you probably couldn’t deal with Keigo all on your own. But still, you wanted to move at Keigo's pace, and you knew he needed time.

. . .

The first night you and Keigo spent in the same bed after what had happened was...strange.

Although you two lived in the same little beach house for a month now, you two haven't slept next to one another, you weren’t sure Keigo was ready just yet.

And yet, he was the one who asked you.

It happened on a normal day, while you were making dinner when Keigo spoke.

“Hey...Y/N..” you turned back to him, giving him your full attention, “Could we….could we try sleeping together? I know...I know it’s been some time but-”

“Yes!” you hastily accepted, “I mean...only if you want to.”

And so, you found yourself curled up next to Keigo, feeling him cuddled up to you, which was nice of course, but his body felt stiff like it didn’t want to be close to you.

The whole experience was… different. Normally, Keigo would wrap his arms around you, holding you against him, holding you securely and tightly, like you knew he wouldn’t let you go.

But this, this was different, but you should have expected that by now. You should have known that, now, it was so unlikely that you would ever see the old version of Keigo again.

And then it was there again, that slap of guilt, that pang of hurt at your own thought. How could you think that? Keigo was hurting, and you were upset that he was in pain?

You bit your lip, quietly willing yourself not to cry.

------

Keigo’s mood swings would happen randomly, with no merit at all.

One moment, he was blindly looking at the TV, the next he would be offering to help with dinner, then the next he was screaming at you to add more pepper to the onions.

When his first outburst happened, you blamed yourself.

You had left Keigo for what only seemed like a moment, going outside to feel the air on your face, wanting to just get out of the stuffy little cottage.

You were just watching from the porch when you heard it.

The sound of glass shattering.

You whipped your head to the sound, to find it coming from inside.

You rushed inside, running towards the kitchen.

“Keigo!” you cried out.

You stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, looking down at Keigo on the floor.

A glass of some sort had broken in Keigo’s hand, from what you could tell. It seemed like he had gotten some of it stuck in his hand, blood dripped onto the floor, sticking to the hardwood floor.

Keigo just stared, his eyes the most lively you’ve seen them in weeks. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, just staring at his hand, looking at the blood as it dripped...dripped...dripped.

And then, he screamed.

It was so loud and so unexpected you quickly covered your ears, trying to block out the head-splitting sound.

When you finally regained your composure, you rushed down to Keigo's side, trying your best to help him.

But Keigo shoved you away.

“No! Stop! Go away! I-I don’t wanna hurt anymore! Stop it, leave me alone!” he scooted away from you, holding out his palms, trying to make you leave.

But you wouldn’t.

Slowly, you spoke, “Keigo, I need to help you, ok? I’m not here to hurt you, baby, I’m Y/N, I love you.”

You inched closer and closer as Keigo hiccuped and sniffed.

“Stop it! Don’t c-come any closer!”

You stilled, only for a moment. Then, you moved forward again.

“Honey, I have to clean your wound, please baby.”

Keigo’s breath still raged, but he let you come closer.

Before you even looked at the wound on his hand, you gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Keigo was shocked, flinching a bit at first.

You carefully picked up his hand, observing it lightly. The glass pricked his hand, but the overall damage wasn’t all that bad, it might have been worse if you hadn’t rushed to him.

You took a deep breath, “Keigo, I’m gonna need to remove the glass-”

But Keigo cut you off, “No no no no no, please. Please, I don’t wanna get hurt again. Please.”

“Keigo,” you stroked your cheek lightly, “it’s ok, it’s me, it’s Y/N.”

You purse your lips, thinking for a moment, “Remember when I got that splinter from the hardwood at that crummy hot spring? And remember how you had to pull it out? And remember how scared I was?”

He thought for a moment as if the memory was buried deep inside him, a lifetime ago. He nodded, tears still running down his face.

“It’s gonna be like that, ok? Quick, and I’ll be right there with you, just like you were for me.”

After a moment, Keigo nodded.

You made quick work of the glass, helping Keigo through the little whimpers and hiccups he let out.

Keigo was never like this before, never fighting over glass in his hand, he was a hero, he dealt with pain daily. But this Keigo was beyond damaged. He was ripped in half, put through more pain than you would ever understand, the mental strain of that had to be so much, it had to weigh on him.

The thought only made your resolve stronger, only made your need to see Keigo get better that much more secure.

After you had bandaged his hand, kissing his knuckles and wrist softly in order to calm him down, you noticed how exhausted he was.

“Do you wanna go and take a nap, Kei?”

He nodded.

You walked him to the room, helping him to bed.

You planted a small kiss on his lips before moving away to leave.

But Keigo caught the fabric of your shirt, pulling on it lightly, “Wait.”

You turned back to face him, “Yeah. what's up Kei?”

“Um, could you...join me?”

Your body perked up. This was one of the first times he had seemed...needy for contact with you. Sure, he still slept next to you, but you figured that was mainly due to some comfortability. But the way Keigo was looking at you right now? His eyes softened with desperation, his body, while still heavy with drowsiness, had enough strength to pull you to him. He seemed to genuinely want you to stay.

You smiled, a real, genuine smile, “Of course I can Keigo.”

You slid into the spot next to him, and Keigo had his arms immediately around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His face nuzzled softly into your neck, his whole body trapping you in a needed embrace.

You played with his hair, giving yourself a mental note that you needed to wash it and brush it out later.

That's when you heard the sniffling in your neck.

“Kei,” you said gently, “what’s wrong?”

It took a few labored breaths for Keigo to respond, “I’m sorry.”

At first, you were confused. What did Keigo have to be sorry about? He had done nothing wrong to you, he hadn’t said anything bad to you, the most he had really done was worry you. But he continued.

“I’m sorry for being so weak, for letting myself get like this, it’s all my fault. And I’m sorry I’m a burden for you, I know how much you loved me, how much you loved being with a strong hero,” he took another shaky breath before continuing, “But I can't. I can’t do it anymore. It hurts so bad. And now, no one wants me. I’m a failure, they’re right,” Keigo squeezed you tighter as if you would leave him too, “I’m a false hero. I failed everyone, the commission, my friends, Tokoyami. And you,” he looked back up at you, “why are you even here? I’m useless now, why can’t you see that? Why won’t you just leave? It would be better for you.”

You hadn’t even realized you had been crying before you felt how shaky your voice was, “No. Keigo that’s not true, I love-”

But he cut you off, “No!” he bolted upright, “Stop it! Stop it Y/N! I’m not who you love, that Keigo is dead and gone, look at me! I’m a shell of who he was, I’m the failure he left behind! Christ Y/N, I fucking broke down because I had fucking glass in my hand!”

He cupped his ears, seemingly trying to block out some sort of noise that you couldn’t even hear. Rocking back and forth lightly, his bandaged hand squeezing hard on his left ear.

“Keigo stop it,” you tried to get his hand away, “you're going to hurt yourself!”

After fighting him for a moment, you finally got him to put his hands down. You pulled him to you, placing his head on your chest as you calmed him down.

“Kei,” you said after a long stretch of silence, “I love you, and I’m not leaving you.”

Keigo hiccuped, “B-but.”

You shushed him, “No but’s. I’m here to stay, it’ll be hard, I know that, but I can’t leave you.”

For the first time in God now’s how long, Keigo reached up and kissed you.

It wasn’t a light, small little peck either, it was a sloppy, desired-filled kiss. You were shocked at first, seeing as how he was yelling at you a second ago, but you let yourself indulge a bit. You craved Keigo, missed his lips, his strong, protective hands that run up your body, you just missed him really.

Your hand moved down to his chest, pulling him deeper. His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you more in.

His teeth clashed against yours, and maybe it was because you two haven't done this in so long, or it was because neither of you cared.

You couldn’t help but let out a small moan as Keigo pushed more against you, pushing you near the head of the bed.

After a few moments of the kiss, you pulled away.

“Please,” Keigo whispered lightly, “Please don’t leave me.”

------

After that, the situation with you and Keigo became so much more complicated.

Keigo would become so irritable, that you had to stand outside for hours just for him to calm down.

But the worst was when he acted so apologetic afterward, saying his, “I’m sorry”’s over and over again, sputtering about how he would, “do better.”

Of course, you felt like absolute shit, wanting to scream, to cry, to leave even. But you couldn’t. Keigo was in so much pain, you had to be strong now, you had to be there for him like he had been for you. You shoved down your tears, fighting the urge to scream and cry, waiting out your feelings.

Was it a bad coping mechanism? Yes. But you already felt so useless, you didn’t want to be a burden too.

For a while, you had hoped that he would help himself get better, you had hoped that he really was trying to get better and understand how to help himself more, but as time went on, you saw how naive you were.

You realized that Keigo was almost beyond repair, some days he would be silently upset, not talking or saying anything. While others you could hear it in his voice.

While some days you came into your shared room to see him curled up on the bed, crying and whimpering. And then there was you, unable to help, unable to tell him how, “it would be ok,” how, “I’m here for you, Kei.”

Because you knew he wouldn’t listen.

And yet, he would never yell at you, never scream or degrade you, he would only seem to be mad at...himself.

Yet, it was strange, because he seemed to grow more and more protective of you.

If you were to leave the house, he would become upset, saying how; “You could have gotten hurt, next time either take me with you or stay...please.”

It was strange how he always asked, how he never demanded.

But today, today was different.

You had noticed that Keigo was especially irritable, so you decided to just stay out of his way. Deciding to work on meal prep, because of Keigo’s accident the doctors told you to watch his meals carefully, making sure he eats a well-balanced meal each and every day.

Maybe Keigo would calm down, maybe today could still be ok, maybe you could salvage the day and make it a good one.

But that was before the broadcast.

. . .

You were outside that day, watching as the sun showned on the ocean.

You wished silently that Keigo could have enough strength to come out and see it with you. Yet, you didn’t push him.

Keigo, on the other hand, was watching some TV. Well, "watch" was a strong word. Keigo’s eyes were far off again, You never asked him what he was thinking about, but you knew it had to be something but what happened.

As you watch the waves crash against the shore, and the sun slowly sets, that's when it happened.

The broadcast.

At first, the broadcast was only just a news reporter talking about how; “us as a society must look forward, through these dark times.” Talking about the loss of certain Hero’s and civilians alike.

but the segment right after that, that's what sent Hawks into his spiral.

“And now, what has happened to the pro hero known as Hawks? And I posed a question to all of our viewers out there, should he be forgiven? Can a man who ruthlessly killed someone, even a villain, be considered a hero?”

You weren't there when the news reporter posed the question, you were only there for the aftermath.

At first, Keigo was in shock, and then, his outburst happened.

It was the worst outburst since the accident. He was screaming, yelling, hitting anything, he just needed some way to get his anger out.

When you heard the commotion, you immediately ran inside, worried that something may have hurt him. But as you went inside, you realized that there was nothing wrong, at least not from what you could see. But to Keigo, everything was wrong.

When you came in, all you could hear was yelling, “What was it all for?! I just...I just wanted to help!”

You were stunted into silence, only being able to watch from afar.

It was like you couldn’t move, your body glued down to the floor, unable to help Keigo.

And then, he hit the TV, hard.

And that's when you finally spoke.

“Keigo stop!”

You rushed forward, grabbing his arm from hitting the wall.

You latched on to him, “Keigo please, please honey just calm-”

But it was too late, and before you knew what was happening, Keigo had thrown you on the ground.

You landed on your hands, cushioning your fall, but that didn’t mean it hurt.

For a moment, everything was still, everything was silent. Keigo wasn’t yelling, he wasn't screaming, and when you looked back up, the only thing you saw was true horror and guilt.

You panted lightly, your eyes blown wide as you stared back up at Keigo.

“...Y/N-”

What was he to say?

He didn’t know.

“K-Keigo,” you were at a complete loss for words.

After a few more minutes, you stood back up. You took one, shaky breath, before you spoke.

“Keigo, I’m sorry. I-I...I can’t do this right now. It’s just… this is all too much for me right now. I think I need to clear my head.”

You moved past him, not even looking him in the eye. How could you? Your mind was a mess, a thousand thoughts jumbled through your brain.

You opened the door quickly, taking your car keys before you left, refusing to look back.

----

The ocean waves looked stunning in the sunlight, it might have been the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

At least, you would have if the tears in your eyes weren’t blocking out your vision.

And your head wouldn’t stop spinning. Was Keigo ok? Should you go back? Could you even go back? What would you even say to him?

No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that leaving Keigo behind was for the best, that you two just needed to be away from each other, you felt like your heart was being slowly stabbed through with needles, one for every second away.

You sniffed, wiping away your tears with the back of your palm.

There had to be a way Keigo could get better, some way you could help. But every thought eluded you, how could you help someone so far gone?

You thought back to the doctor's suggestion of getting a therapist, maybe it was time. Keigo was getting too out of hand for you, and as much as you loved him, you knew that this was hurting him as much as you.

A sigh escaped your lips, why did this have to be so difficult?

And that thought came to you again.

Why couldn’t he just be himself again?

You shivered at your own selfish, hurtful thoughts. Keigo was still him, he just needed help, and thinking about how much you wanted the old him back wasn’t going to help him or you. And it wasn’t fair either, to expect that after what happened he would just be fine.

You knew you would always be there for him, but you supposed you didn’t think it would be this hard.

You placed your face in your hands.

How the hell could you help him? You felt as though Keigo was on the edge of a mountain, and you were the only thing he could grab onto, but now, he was pulling you down with him.

A small, shaky sigh escaped you.

Crunch, crunch.

Footsteps. Fast approaching, almost running.

You cocked your head up, preparing to be kicked off whoever's land that you were on (considering how you just decided to drive to the middle of nowhere).

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought that this was public-”

But you stopped mid-sentence.

There stood Keigo, tears streamed down his cheeks, his panting breaths and sweat glistening from his body must have meant he came all the way out here on foot.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could get a word in, Keigo had bent down to you.

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, still in shock, “N-no.”

He sighed, but his face concentrated like he was thinking too hard, “I’m sorry.” and then, a long, silent pause, “I don’t...I don’t know what else to say.”

“...I don’t either,” you looked back up at him again. “You could have really hurt me, and I just don’t know how to deal with all this. I don’t know how to deal with...you.”

Keigo flinched, the implications of your words stung.

“It’s just...I want to be there for you, I really do, but it’s so hard,” you looked down tears threatening to escape, “I love you s-so much, b-but,” a silent hiccup went through you, “I don’t know how to help anymore.”

Keigo stayed silent, his words trapped under his tongue. He also didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to help himself too, but he knew deep down he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. But he hated what he was doing to you, he hated what he was making you go through.

“Keigo,” he looked back up at you, “Do you still love me?”

Keigo stared wide-eyed back to you, his words at a loss. “I- of course, I do Y/N-”

“Then why don’t you say it?”

He paused, “...What do you mean?”

You sighed, “Have you noticed that ever since what happened, you’ve not been able to say ‘I love you,' to me? Because I have. Each morning I wake up, and I always say, ‘good morning Kei, I love you,’ and you never say it back. It feels like I’m just invisible to you. I don’t want to look at you as something to fix, or as something to make me feel miserable, but I can’t live with someone who just sees me like a ghost.”

It took a while before Keigo finally responded.

“I don’t see you as a ghost,” he said, his voice as low as a whisper, “it’s that I see me as the ghost. I lost...I lost a big part of me in that fight.”

Subconsciously, he reaches back to his used-to-be wings, his fingers flinching when nothing is there.

“Keigo, you are not your wings.”

“How can you say that when everything I was...was built off of them?”

You leaned forward, a hand placed lightly on his cheek, “Your wings did not build our relationship, we did. And we still have each other. Your wings were never the reason I loved you, your wings were always just a part of you, they were never you.”

Keigo looked back at you, placing a hand on top of yours. After a few, dragged-out moments, Keigo leaned into you. But not before whispering lightly on your lips, “I do love you, Y/N.”

. . .

Things were hard, but they were better.

It had been three weeks since the accident that happened with you and Keigo. He agreed to go to a therapist, after what happened with you two, he wanted to get help.

What neither you nor he expected though, was for his therapist to also recommend you get help as well.

In his words; “After understanding the stress that Mr. Takami has gone through, as well the details that he has shared with me, I believe that it is necessary for you to also have some sort of mental treatment. Keigo was not in the right state of mind for a very long time, and you were the only person here to look after him. I believe you first need to talk about your problems separately and then move on to couples therapy. Some of the actions Mr. Takami has put you through may have had negative effects on your psyche.”

Although that was a shock to you, Keigo visibly became more saddened after that.

After the conversation with the therapist, Keigo even offered to move out of your shared room.

“If- if you’re uncomfortable with me being here, I can take the spare room.”

You only shook your head no, saying, “I’m not uncomfortable sleeping next to you, Kei, we’re in this together.”

And you were.

Keigo went to his therapist, as did you. At first, you weren’t sure, seeing as Keigo and you would see the same person and how that may make a conflict of interest, but he assured you that Keigo dealt with trauma relating to his fight, as did you of course, but your trauma and anxiety was more based upon him.

So, you made it work.

After a while of one-on-one counseling, you moved to couples therapy.

It was hard, mostly for Keigo, because he didn’t want to admit to himself, or you, that he had hurt you as much as he did.

So, you opened first.

You talked about how scared you were of losing Keigo, not just physically but mentally, how it hurt you that some days he wouldn’t talk to you. You even opened up about missing the old him.

It seemed like when you first opened your mouth, everything just came pouring out.

And so, after you explained your side, slowly, Keigo started to explain his.

He explained how he didn’t want to hurt you, but how he just couldn’t help himself in that moment. He felt like everyone was turning on him, abandoning him, he thought it was only a matter of time before you. And he couldn’t handle how that thought chased him, his mind just became so jumbled and uncertain.

But he wanted to get better, to show you the man you deserved.

Soon, you came to realize how your relationship would never be the same since that day, how you had lost a part of Keigo, and how Keigo had lost a part of himself. And that part, that part split you two, like a deep cut, and now you two had to sew it back together, and you both knew it would be hard.

Losing that part of your life took time, it took practice and understanding, it took watching Keigo wake up in a nightmare, watching as he screamed and all you could do was hush him and stroke his cheek softly as you told him how you were there, even as tears slipped down your cheeks as well.

But you let them, you let yourself show him that you were sharing the pain, that you were together in this.

Keigo was hurting, you knew that, but as your therapist told you; “You are grieving, grieving for that Keigo that died in that battle, and not only are you grieving, you are also trying your best to take care of someone who was already so broken that now they might as well be shards of the vase they once were.”

But that didn’t stop you from explaining how you felt selfish and terrible, how you felt like you were a bad person for feeling upset, for wanting Keigo to go back to you.

After each therapy session, you two would go out and sit on the porch, not doing or saying anything, because you both realized you had said plenty before.

. . .

After a year since then, things had gotten significantly better.

Keigo and you understood the inner workings of your relationship, not only that, you both understand each other a lot better. Understanding how you both needed one another, how you two could only grow to help each other.

Almost a year has passed since the incident with Dabi, a year since Keigo “lost” his wings.

But his wings were back, and he was back.

Although, maybe not fully.

Keigo was almost like a different vision of himself, a more, down to earth, real version of who he was.

Maybe, it was the person he always was, but just never could show it.

With you, he was the most caring he’s ever been.

Watching as you fell asleep in his arms, creasing your body oh-so-perfectly as he kissed you deeply, his sing-song praises in your ear. He loved you so much.

And you, you helped him grow as well. Being there for him, watching him, helping him.

You never left him, you carried out your promise to yourself, keeping him with you no matter what. You loved him so much, and you were so happy to see how he healed.

And here you both were, Watching as the sunset, as the ocean waves tied down, the sun Illuminating the water passing over.

You watched as Keigo’s eyes lit up in the bright light, his scar’s still reflecting the hard past that he's been through, and yet, reminding you how lucky you are.

At that moment you leaned in, giving him a light peck on his cheek.

Keigo turned to you, before laughing, “Why did you do that?"

"Because... I just realized how lucky I am to have you. Thank you, Keigo.”

"There's no need to thank me, dove," he said, kissing you as well "I'll always love you, and I always will be thankful that I have you as well."

[ladyboltontoyou]

Arthur Morgan x Reader: Ol’ Fashion Fingers

Ask: ahhh okay so the kinda gross idea! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is on her period and arthur takes care of her, and i mean...we both know he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty and also...a bit of blood won’t gross him out right? so maybe...he takes care of her and later...works his magic fingers to makes her feel better? i know it’s probably very gross but my cramps are so extremely bad this month i’m dying i just need some arthur i LOVE your writing btw!

Warning: Fingering, period blood

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader

A/N: I am so sorry I took so long on this. Whoever sent in the ask, hope you enjoy! (Lmfao at the ‘say no more’ part at the end) Also, they didn’t have tampons or pads back then I don’t think so I used rags, since that’s what I remember women had to use before our ‘luxury’ items. 

“Kill me, put a bullet in my skull, please, it would be a mercy.” Your cramps this month were killing you. They hadn’t been this bad in years, not since you first started having them when you were very young.

“That bad?” Arthur asked as he chewed on a some of the candy Hosea had bought for you.

“You have no idea.” You sighed, watching him clean his gun. The two of you were sitting in a room at one of the Taverns in Valentine, you had rented out a room and bought special service to help ease the pain. Every thirty minutes a maid would bring you a fresh cold rag, a hot blanket, and some water. Karen had done it the last time she got her period and said it was one of the best things she’d ever spent money on. 

Arthur set his gun down on the dresser and made his way over to you, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside your feet. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do for you?”

You hummed and looked up, pretending to be deep in thought. “I don’t know… kiss me?” 

Arthur broke into a smile and leaned across you, giving you a quick kiss. “How was that?”

“I still hurt. Kiss me again.”

He kissed you again, longer this time and with more movement. When he pulled back he raised a brow, questioning silently.

“I think it’s working, but I can’t tell. Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.” You forced yourself into a sitting position, now face to face with the man. 

Arthur let out a sigh, not one of annoyance but rather amusement, and brought you in for another kiss. This time you caught him off guard and slipped your tongue in his mouth, bringing up a hand to run your fingers through his hair. His hat fell onto the ground but neither of you noticed. 

The kiss didn’t end as quickly as the others did. Even when he pulled the sheets off of your body your lips remained connected. Even when his hands slid up your legs and gave your thighs a squeeze. You only broke the kiss so you could take your pants off. They were your go-to that time of the month pair, they had holes in the knees and were black so if you had any sort of accident no one would be able to tell. 

You had changed your rag not too long ago so it wasn’t that bloody, thankfully. Even though Arthur had mentioned many times before that he had seen blood almost every day of his life, it wasn’t anything new or gross to him. Still, sometimes you felt a bit embarrassed. 

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” You reminded Arthur as he planted kisses along your neck while his hands squeezed your bare hips.

“Quit that. Lay down and relax, alright?” 

You nodded and laid back down flat on your back after you removed your button up shirt. Arthur hadn’t bothered removing any of his clothing since what he planned on doing didn’t involve him at all. Maybe afterward if what he had in mind didn’t hurt, but he couldn’t imagine anything bigger than a finger inside you would do anything other than cause more unnecessary pain.

He started with massaging your clit, working you up enough so you were shaking. Your little whimpers and moans were almost too much for him but he kept himself together and focused on you and you only. 

After a while of doing that he lightly trailed his fingers down your folds, teasing your entrance with feather-like touches. He kept his eyes on your face and searched for the slightest sign of discomfort, but he only found pleasure. You had your mouth slightly open, letting out quick puffs of air, and your eyes closed. 

“Don’t hesitate to stop me, you hear?” As if. After all the time you’d known Arthur, he still surprised you every day by how sweet he could be. You’d never find another man living as considerate, honest, and utterly selfless as Arthur Morgan.

“M’kay.” 

He looked at you for a few more seconds before he was satisfied that you were totally okay with everything. He then pushed one finger inside you, slow and only partial. Almost immediately he looked up to make sure you didn’t look like you were in any pain. You seemed fine, eyes still closed with your bottom lip between your teeth from anticipation.

You wished he would get on with it, you weren’t made of glass. But you knew he was just being careful, and plus, it wasn’t like you didn’t like when he teased you a little. In your experience, an orgasm always felt better after you had to work for it. 

When he was finally knuckle deep he tested out a gentle curl, knocking a moan out of you. “You alright girl?” He asked, his voice raw and husky, and stilled his movements. 

“Keep going.” 

He obliged and continued curling his fingers, making you forget about the pain going on inside you. You’d never actually fingered yourself whilst on your period, it would be too hard to hide the blood on your fingers if anyone walked in on you. You had settled for outside stimulation which usually eased your pain for a while, but this was a whole different feeling. It was as if you weren’t even on your period at all. No cramps, your spine didn’t ache and your legs weren’t sore to the touch. You didn’t even have a headache anymore.

It didn’t take you long to come. The feeling of his long thick fingers inside you coupled with the erotic image of him sitting fully clothes between your spread legs was too much to handle. Even if you wanted to prolong the whole thing you couldn’t, your orgasm came too sudden and fast for you to do anything about it. All you could do was let out a couple of swear words with his name thrown in a few times and came around his fingers.

Arthur was blown away, as he was every time he had the ‘privilege’, as he called it, to watch you come. “Jesus, woman.” Was all he could say.

You sat up with shaky arms, catching your breath as you ran your fingers through your hair. “That almost works better than morphine.” You joked and grabbed your shirt, slipping your arms through the sleeves but not bothering to button it back up.

“Speakin’a morphine, you should have some soon,” Arthur said as he watched you grab a new rag from the bedside table, wiping the cum and blood from your thighs before you handed it to the man beside you. “Unless the maid rode off with my money.”

“Oh, Arthur. You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Don’t ‘oh Arthur’ me.” He said as he wiped his fingers off, throwing the rag on the floor with the other one. “It was either that or cocaine, and you don’t need that right now. Last time you had some of that we couldn’t get you to sit down for ten minutes, you remember that?”

Shaking your head you laughed, getting one more rag to put in the pants you’d just slipped back on. “Yeah, I do.” You had chewed on far too many pieces of cocaine gum with the intention to get some work done around camp, but you ended up finishing all the chores within thirty minutes. So for the rest of the day, you were doing tasks that didn’t need to be done, such as over-hunting and fishing. The camp had to cook triple what they normally did every night so the food wouldn’t spoil. 

“I will admit, once you’re done with this whole bleeding thing it wouldn’t hurt to have you hunting again. You’re ‘bout the only one in camp besides me who can shoot anything without ruinin’ the meat.” 

You smiled at his compliment and laid back down, savoring the time you had left until the pain would kick back in. Hopefully, the morphine would get to you before then. “Thank you, Arthur. I feel much better now. You’re so good at that, I might start paying you to make me feel better instead of these maids.”

Arthur smiled and scooted up so he could lay down beside you. “Yeah, well, seeing you like that is all the payment I could ask for.” He kissed your cheek and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Oh yeah? Well, I think I’ve got some more to pay you.” 

Arthur held up his hand. “Don’t say nothin’ else.”

[ohblackdiamond]

the end of the world tour (kiss/endgame crossover, r) (part 3/4)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

In this chapter: Training continues, sans Rocky montage. Peter gets some answers courtesy Gene and, maybe, Ace. Prepare the preparations.

Or, four washed-up former rockstar superheroes don the spandex of old in a last-ditch effort to save an already half-gone world. They just need a little support from a billionaire who’s not too keen on KISS interrupting his private life. Somewhat Endgame compliant.

Two days later, the visitors started to arrive.

Peter couldn’t exactly call them fans. He didn’t think they were fans, exactly—he didn’t think more than half of the younger ones even exactly knew who KISS was. But they started to creep up to the yard, phones in hand, eager for even the barest hint of superheroism.

The other guys were eating it up. Even Ace, who wasn’t quite as introverted as Paul but still relished his time alone, started showing the visitors around the backyard like it was some kind of grand tour (unsurprisingly, the only sacrosanct portion was his spaceship, roped off as if it were the Venus de Milo—“’m sorry, you can’t touch it, but if you wanna stand over there and take a picture, you can”). He only looked mildly taken aback when a couple of the visitors got brave enough to go from sneaking around the yard to actually knocking at the front door.

“Don’t let them in,” Pete snapped, watching Ace get up on automatic to answer. Ace only offered him a lazy shrug.

“Why not?”

“You know why not. We’ll never get rid of them.”

“They ain’t gonna stay, Peter,” Ace started, interrupted by Paul hurriedly half-tripping down the stairs, having to grab onto the railing. The six-inch, star-encrusted heels of his Alive outfit seemed to be giving him trouble.

“Don’t answer it yet!” he called out, looking from Ace to Peter. “Don’t answer until you’re in costume!”

“Paul, you vain bastard—”

“I’m not being vain! You’ll ruin the mystique!”

“What’s the point? They all know we’re old!”

“That’s not what I mean! Ace, how the hell is anyone gonna have any faith in us saving the world if you answer the door like that ?”

Ace shot a brief, amused look Peter’s way just before a puff of blue smoke obscured him from sight. A second later, Ace emerged, in the facepaint and a purple, velvet onesie.

Paul looked as if he were about to have an aneurysm. 

“ No ! That’s not even one of our outfits! How did you—”

“Don’t have to be. You can do any outfit you wanna.” Ace paused. “C’mon, Paulie, you didn’t just think we were stuck with the tour shit, did you? What kinda superhero only gets six costumes?”

The rapping from the other side of the door continued.

“Oh, come on, are you telling me if I want my black leather overalls back, all I have to do is—”

“I dunno if I’d recommend ’em, Paulie, but—” Ace stopped again, yanking open the door. “Hey, how you doing?”

The kid at the door—he couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, by Peter’s reckoning—seemed to mostly be his dwarfed by his own mass of curly red hair, his face plastered with freckles. He just stared at the three of them, mouth a small round o of surprise.

“I didn’t think you’d open it!”

Paul was mumbling under his breath, gesticulating to Peter with about as much subtlety as a conductor during Handel’s “Messiah.” Transform , he was mouthing. Peter ignored him.

“Well, we don’t always, but…” Ace trailed, grinning. “How’d you hear about us, huh?”

The redheaded kid shrugged.

“Somebody at school said you were supposed to be fixing everything.”

“Yeah?” Ace’s expression didn’t shift a single centimeter.

“Uh-huh. They said you were gonna be the Avengers’ secret weapon and they’d pulled you out of the freezer like Captain America.”

Peter glanced over at Paul, who was still standing halfway down the staircase. From Paul’s expression, it was patently clear that the sheer amount of interviews, meet and greets, and impromptu hobknobbing he’d endured over the last forty years was all that was keeping him straight-faced.

“We didn’t get pulled out of the freezer,” Paul managed after a moment.

“I guess he didn’t,” said the kid, pointing to Peter. Before Peter could respond, but not before Paul and Ace started to snort, he continued. “Are you, though? Are you guys really gonna do it?”

“We—”

“I got a sister,” and the kid wasn’t looking at either of them now. Peter waited, expectant, a rock forming somewhere in his gut. He knew the story before the kid could tell it. He was sure of it. Just as sure of it, just as uselessly sure of it as he ever had been during their cancer ward visits. The kids all hoping just because KISS had come by, that maybe everything was going to be all right, even as they lay there hooked up to IVs and a half-dozen machines. Even as they lay there dying. The kid swallowed. “She… wouldn’t be coming back even if you did save everybody.”

“I’m sorry.” It was Paul. He’d said it before Peter could. He wasn’t looking the kid in the eye, either, Peter noticed. Just staring at the door directly behind him. Peter’s gut was lurching. He’d been wrong. She hadn’t disappeared from existence. She’d died before. 

The kid didn’t say anything for a few seconds that seemed to stretch and pull like taffy. Ace’s lips were pursed so tight the black of his lipstick seemed barely-there. The cloistered existences they’d led the last five years, trying so hard to avoid pain when it enveloped everything around them. Everything past them. Consumed in their own grief, unable or unwilling or both to really acknowledge the real human toll of it for fear it would break them. Everyone on Earth had lost someone. Some had lost everyone. And some just watched as the ones left behind followed after.

Peter was almost starting to get it. Some of it. For Gene and Paul and Ace, FER probably hadn’t only been an exercise in talisman abuse and easy lays. Stupid as it was, hedonistic and disastrous as it was, trying to make a life in a dying world… it must have warmed them. It must have made them feel good for more than just the afterglow.

“I’m gonna see her again someday.” The kid finally glanced up from the floor. “Not for a long time. But I will.” An exhale. “You’re gonna try, right? You’re gonna try to fix everything.”

“We’re gonna try,” Peter said, throat feeling warm and thick and too-heavy. 

“Okay.” And he was starting to smile, dimples pushing into the freckles on his face. “That’s good.” He hesitated. “Oh, uh…”

“Yeah?”

And he pushed his phone forward.

“Could I get a selfie? The kids at school won’t believe me unless I get a selfie.”

It might have been the most questionable selfie Peter had been a part of in his life.

“I told you to get in costume,” Paul mumbled as he held up the phone for the picture, putting his free arm behind Peter’s shoulder on idle default, “but no —”

Begrudgingly, with that utterly inevitable puff of green smoke signaling everything, Peter got into costume. Well. He got into the cat-embroidered jacket and cutout leotard he’d worn when it was too cold to go sleeveless. The kid’s eyes went buggy. Paul looked deeply offended. Ace just snickered.

“None of us match at all,” Paul said flatly.

“I don’t care. Take the picture.”

“Fine.” Paul was still fiddling with the angle, unsurprisingly, tilting his head as he stared at the camera. Peter waited for about fifteen seconds—fifteen seconds too long for Ace, who snatched the phone from Paul and snapped the picture before he could grab it back. Paul looked as if he were about to snag it back, or at least argue, but instead he just let Ace hand the phone back to the kid—after leaning over to inspect the selfie first.

“It pass inspection, Paul?” Ace lilted.

“It’s good enough,” Paul muttered, before turning his attention back to the visitor. “Anything else you’d like? Autographs? Posters?”

The kid nodded shyly, and Paul immediately scrambled for merchandise. For once, Peter was profoundly grateful Gene was gone on an errand run. The man might have tried to sell the poor kid some of those KISS-branded air guitar strings he still had in the basement.

--

Things quieted down faster than Peter had expected them to. A few weeks of buzzing activity, a few weeks of impromptu, free meet-and-greets, and then the visitors retreated again. Fickle. No attention span. No second tidal wave of KISSteria overwhelming their half-gone world. Peter found he didn’t really mind. Workouts and training were a lot easier to focus on without being stared at or recorded. 

He’d spent an hour or so downstairs, fiddling absentmindedly at the piano, digging through old memorabilia and guitars, before coming back up to the main floor to start on dinner. His assigned day again. Gene was the only one hanging around the kitchen by the time Peter got there.

“Where’re Ace and Paul?”

“Trying to fix the spaceship.” 

“They getting anywhere with it?”

“I doubt it. Ace didn’t get out the blowtorch.”

Peter snorted in reply.

“Three more months, he said. S’like how he used to say his next album was coming out in the spring. Only it was ten springs in a row, the lazy bastard.”

Gene shrugged.

“I can’t remember the last time he asked one of us to help with it.”

“I wouldn’t want us helping with it. C’mon, Gene, none of us have any business fooling with that shit when we barely know how to top off the oil tank in the car.”

“What’s gotten you so pissed-off this late in the afternoon?”

“You know what.”

“Peter, I really don’t—”

“Things are getting screwed-up again,” Peter said dryly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. The connection bullshit’s back just like it used to be. Don’t you feel it?”

It was a moot question. Of course Gene could feel it. That weird bleeding in of everyone’s emotional states into a messy, almost indistinguishable puddle. Getting so in-tune it got creepy, borderline empathic. It was the one thing about their crimefighting days that Peter hadn’t missed much at all.

“I’m feeling it.”

“Somebody’s keyed-up as hell. And it’s not me, so it’s got to be either you or Paul or Ace…”

“It’s probably Paul.”

“Paul’s always anxious! What’s he got to be so nerved-out about?” Peter groused, yanking the trash bag out of the garbage can, tying it off, and setting it down on the floor. “Shit, I thought he might be feeling better these days.”

Gene shrugged.

“He’s sensitive.”

“Ace is, too, the big difference is he has a sense of humor about it,” Peter grumbled, heading outside with the trash bag in tow, still calling out to Gene as he toted it out. “I don’t like feeling antsy just because someone else is antsy. I’ll tell them both that as soon as they get in.”

“Don’t do that. There’s probably a reason.”

“Reason, my ass. My blood pressure’s high enough without Paulie dialing it up with all his fucking feelings.” Peter returned, only to find Gene had, surprisingly, replaced the trash bag while he was out. “What’d you want for dinner?”

“Do we still have any of that steak left?”

“Yeah. Probably enough for a stir-fry.” Peter opened up one of the cabinets by the stove, taking out a cutting board and a frying pan. Wok , he could almost hear Paul correcting. If it got the job done, the proper terminology didn’t matter. Mentally, he started to tally the vegetables they had on hand to toss in. Onions, peppers… maybe some mushrooms. He wasn’t after authenticity so much as getting rid of as much produce as possible. Boil up some rice, and it wouldn’t be a bad meal.

“Brownies would be good, too.”

“I didn’t buy any mix.”

“I did.” Gene dug it out of the pantry, along with a bottle of oil. Peter rolled his eyes.

“You know none of the workouts we do in costume do a damn thing for any of us out of costume, right?”

“I know. I just don’t care.” Gene was already taking the egg carton out of the refrigerator, absolutely shameless. Peter shook his head slowly, watching Gene set the ingredients out on the counter. “Figure we’ve earned it.”

“You’re gonna get diabetes, man.”

“I’ll live to be a hundred. I’ve got great… genes.” Gene said it with his usual dry, obnoxious self-assurance, familiar enough that Peter had long stopped minding it. He expected Gene to get out a bowl next, but instead, he went and plugged in the record player on the other side of the kitchen. Peter could hear him cross over into the living room, and knew he was probably pilfering through their records. “This’ll help your blood pressure. What album do you want?”

“Anything that isn’t us.”

Gene nodded, walking back into the kitchen with a ratty copy of the Beatles’ Yesterday and Today . Peter winced.

“Okay, anything that isn’t us or the fucking Beatles.”

“Best two names in rock and roll.”

Peter rolled his eyes. Gene set the album down on the kitchen table, still looking at Peter, which was a bit of a surprise. Peter had expected him to dig out another album and put it on the player, regardless of his opinion on the matter. But no, he was waiting on Peter to pick.

“One of the Krupa records is fine.”

“All right.”

Gene crossed back over to the living room, got another album out, and put it on the turntable. Peter recognized it after the first few bars as Burnin’ Beat. He sighed and retrieved the leftover steak and vegetables from the fridge, started to chop the steak into strips while Gene began mixing up the brownie batter. Peter’s arthritis wasn’t treating him half so badly this evening. 

It was always a different kind of silence with Gene than it was with Ace or Paul. Strangely easier to handle. Gene wasn’t off in an avoidant, self-inflicted orbit like Ace, or stuck chronically ruminating like Paul. Gene was always thinking ahead. Always moving forward. Sometimes it aggravated the shit out of Peter, and sometimes it was just what he needed to be around.

“The talismans expose the true selves of the holders,” Gene said finally, as he poured a frankly disastrous amount of mini M&Ms and broken-up Hershey bars into the batter. “Did you ever give that any thought?”

“No. Not until the last couple months.” Peter shrugged. “I didn’t think about it back then. We’d been doing the makeup before we got the talismans.”

Nothing Gene didn’t already know. They’d mapped out rough designs themselves in a desperate bid for a gimmick. Something to get them noticed. The regular genderbending schtick they’d tried before, with the four of them in heavy blush and eyeliner and lipstick, hadn’t suited anyone but Ace. They hadn’t looked like they were tearing down the establishment, blurring the lines between male and female, any of that—they’d just looked sad. Putting on the white greasepaint had been the turning point they needed. The talismans just sealed the deal.

“I’ve thought about it a long time.” Gene’s voice, always quiet and deceptively even, got a little lower, as if there was any likelihood Ace and Paul could hear him from out in the backyard. “It’s a great origin story. Struggling band gets magic powers, becomes successful superhero musicians. But…”

“But what?”

“When your true self wears more makeup and higher heels than Frank-n-Furter, that’s concerning.”

“Like Stark’s Iron Man crap is any better.” Peter crooked a smile. “He doesn’t even have a codpiece.”

Gene snorted. He only looked marginally more at ease.

“That’s not exactly it.” He paused. “We were still wearing the outfits and makeup five years ago. Paul and Eric and Tommy and I.”

“Yeah, I know.” God, did he know. Peter didn’t even remember—or didn’t want to remember—when he’d signed over his makeup rights. He hadn’t been thinking about crimefighting then. None of them had. He just remembered disgust roiling in his stomach as he’d watched the band go on without him for the second and then the third time in a fucking row.

“It was getting to me. Getting to all of us—Paul won’t admit it, but…” Gene trailed uncharacteristically. “It was starting to feel like a parody.”

“ Starting to?” Peter snorted. Gene, surprisingly, didn’t look too ruffled.

“Yeah. At first, I thought I was fine with that. We’d been running off nostalgia since the nineties. If people were still paying to see us, who the fuck cared if I wasn’t stomping around anymore? If Paul wasn’t jumping all over the stage? Who—”

“Gene, the only reason either of you stopped that was because wasn’t turned into couldn’t .” Peter tossed the steak into the frying pan, started to chop the mushrooms, just dropping them into the pan, not bothering with the cutting board. “Didn’t matter how many tickets you sold. You couldn’t buy your way back to ’76.” 

“That isn’t what I meant.” Gene’s eyes, always so appallingly focused, weren’t on Peter for once. “Fuck, if dignity was in KISS’ vocabulary, we would have folded our first concert in drag. I didn’t care about getting old and looking like crap onstage. I didn’t want to buy my way back to ’76.”

“Then what did you want?”

“Shit, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“I wanted to hang it up.” Gene was pouring the batter into the pan now, smoothing it over more than he needed to with the back of a spoon, his mouth pursed tightly. He hadn’t even taken a taste of it yet. Peter knew exactly how poor a sign that was.

“You’ve wanted to hang it up before. You even said you would. Remember the Farewell Tour?”

“ Really hang it up. No more KISS, no more concerts—I was tired of it. Maybe Mick Jagger can keep on croaking ‘Satisfaction,’ but—”

“But Paul can’t get through ‘Detroit Rock City.’”

“Don’t tell him that. It’d kill him.” 

“He already knows it.” Peter paused. Started chopping up the peppers and onions and dropping them into the wok, which was hissing with every new addition. A thought had come to him, one he’d mulled over for ages, but hadn’t dared mention until now. “Gene?”

“Yeah?” Gene had finally put the brownie pan into the oven.

“Was that the real reason for all the Hall of Fame crap? Was that why we didn’t play?”

“Peter,” Gene started. 

“It was, wasn’t it? Why the hell didn’t you say so? I thought it was just the usual bullshit. Don’t let me and Ace play with you and Paul or everyone’ll be begging for another Reunion Tour. If I’d known—”

“That—”

“You should’ve said ! Did we really hate each other that bad? Was Paul that fucking scared of what we’d say? Were you?”

“Peter, at this point—”

“If you’d said, I might’ve understood. But Christ, Gene, just refusing without a reason was fucking awful. I didn’t wanna see any of the rest of you outside of a funeral home ever again.”

“I’m pretty sure we were all thinking that.” Gene sounded as if he were trying to force out a snort. “Even Paul and I didn’t coordinate suits.”

“The hell did you two have to be sore about? Did you insult one of his paintings?”

Gene just shrugged.

“We’re basically brothers, we have our disagreements.”

“Cut the crap, Gene, Paul ain’t ever been your brother. He’s your princess.”

“Fine, whatever.” The Krupa record slowed to a stop. Peter peered over as Gene turned it over and set the needle back down. “What happened at the Hall of Fame was a mistake.”

“You’re damn right it was.”

“But I didn’t get to dwell on it. We were in the middle of touring when…” Gene swallowed thickly. Peter knew he wasn’t about to detail him and Paul’s falling out. When without a specification always meant five years ago. Another four-letter-word for half of humanity disappearing in front of them. “But I figured it out before then. I’m serious, I really did. I was out there doing the fucking ‘God of Thunder’ routine and all of a sudden…” Gene shook his head, looking almost bewildered. “I realized I could not give less of a shit.”

“You? Are you serious?” Peter did snort. “C’mon, you’ve gone onstage sick as a dog before, don’t tell me you—”

“I’m serious. It was terrifying. You don’t—” Another shake of his head. “The audience wasn’t feeding me anymore. I wasn’t feeding them. I realized that the show didn’t really become a show until we stopped believing in it. I’d stopped believing in it.”

“So what changed your mind?” Peter turned down the heat on the stovetop, absently pushing a spatula through the stir-fry. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Gene had gotten out the soy sauce for him. “What made you believe in it enough to get the talismans back out?” 

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

Gene hesitated. Rare to see him hesitate. He looked as if he were about to deliver another practiced interview sermon, and Peter prepared himself for it, but it didn’t happen. 

“I wanted to see for myself. Prove there might still be some magic there.” His lip was twitching. Peter shifted closer as Gene continued. “After everything, I needed it. But I didn’t want to get them out alone, I don’t know why. I suppose I was just afraid of nothing happening.”

“You really thought nothing would happen?”

Gene raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing had happened since ’80.”

“Nothing at all?”

“They’d just glow a little sometimes. I didn’t expect that much, but I was hoping for it. So I asked Paul to come up to the attic with me. I said I was wanting to look through some old pictures, maybe get something together for a KISS coffee table book—”

“And he believed you?”

“Of course not, but he came up there. Once I pulled out the box, he didn’t hesitate. He told me to go ahead and open it up.” Gene’s mouth twitched. “They were glowing, all right. They hadn’t been that bright in years. I’m not sure which one of us reached in and grabbed his talisman first.”

“Then you decided after that to join FER?”

Gene didn’t look too abashed.

“Yeah, I found an article on it a few days later. I showed it to Paul, then we told Ace, put in our applications and started in, then you found out, and the rest is—”

“If you say KISStory, you’re not getting dinner.’

“That’s fine. I’ll just eat the brownies.”

Ace and Paul returned a few minutes later, after the stir-fry was done but before the brownies were ready. They both looked weirdly drained, almost down, Paul stiffly pulling out his chair and sitting at the table without a word.

“How’s the spaceship?” Gene asked.

“Outlook not so good, Curly,” Ace mumbled, walking over on automatic to the sink, retrieving the bowl Gene had used to mix the brownie batter in. He started scraping a spoon up the sides, seemingly unaware that Gene had, for once, actually half-filled the bowl with water and dish soap, even if he hadn’t washed it. Paul threw him an acrid look. “But we’ll see, y’know?”

Peter didn’t bother to plate the stir fry, just put the wok itself on top of an oven mitt on the table. He did the same with the rice bowl a moment later. No need to clean more dishes than he had to.

“We’ll see,” Gene agreed, glancing Peter’s way. “Look, if you want us all to help, just let us know.”

“Nah, Geno, it’s—” Ace had put that first absentminded spoonful of water, batter, and suds in his mouth, and immediately spat it out. “ Shit! ”

Gene barely suppressed a laugh.

“Sorry—”

“Jesus,” Ace mumbled. “You usually just leave it in the sink and don’t fill it up…” he trailed, dropping the spoon back into the bowl and heading over to sit at the kitchen table across from Paul.

“If you didn’t get anywhere with the ship, what were you doing in there?”

Paul looked like he was about to say something, but then he just reached over and spooned out some of the stir-fry from the wok, staring at the vegetables like they had personally offended him. Peter had to swallow back a spiteful comment—God, Paul probably thought he’d overcooked the onions or some stupid shit like that—but then Ace piped up again.

“Well, we talked about flying. ’S kind of the one thing we still haven’t tried yet.”

Gene nodded, checked the brownies, and then got his plate, scooping up rice and the stir-fry in generous portions. Peter followed suit, a little warily, taking his usual spot next to Ace.

“Flying would give us one over half the Avengers.” Peter glanced over at Gene, trying to gauge his reaction first. For all his fear of heights, Gene barely flinched. Consummate professional. Or maybe he was just thinking about the brownies.

“Yeah. We’ve been putting it off too long.” Gene stuck a forkful of rice in his mouth. “Let’s review the tapes after dinner and start practicing tomorrow.”

“Review the tapes? C’mon, Gene, we’ve been doing that for ages! You just don’t wanna—"

“I do want to. First thing tomorrow.” Gene took a swig of water. Peter’s gaze went from Gene to Paul and then over to Ace, and he shook his head.

“You mean it?”

“I mean it. I’ve even got the equipment ready.”

---

“Gene, when you said equipment, I thought you meant a bungee cord.”

Gene just grinned widely. Gene’s idea of equipment had been a whole lot more useless.

Gene’s idea of equipment had been lugging the trampoline out of the garage.

And as good as it was to get an excuse to peel off their six-inch heels, and as entertaining as it was to jump on the trampoline, Peter had to admit it wasn’t getting either of them airborne. But it was giving them an excellent vantage point to watch the other two.

“We could be trying it up there.” Peter gestured, maybe unnecessarily, to Paul and Ace, who were perched, and arguing, on top of the third story roof. “You hear them, right?”

“How could I not fucking hear them,” Gene mumbled.

“Pauuuulieee. C’mon. You trust me?”

“We’re almost fifty feet off the ground!”

“It’s like with a baby! You put ’em in the pool and they’ll have to swim!”

“Ace, how the fuck did you ever have a kid—”

“Same way you did. Well, sorta.” Ace started laughing, shaking his head. “Relax, man. Just relax. You’ll be fine. We’ll both be fine. Look, if we’re about to crash I’ll teleport us both back down, okay?” Peter couldn’t see it from where he was, but deep down he was sure Ace was winking.

“I don’t see how he talked Paul into this,” Gene said.

“They’ve been hanging out more lately.” Peter wasn’t sure why. They hadn’t made another room switch or anything. Then again, Paul and Ace hadn’t ever had any major row between them, either. He managed a backflip, to his own surprise. “And they knew you were going to wuss out.”

“You’re not up there, either.”

“I will be once they get it,” Peter retorted. Right now, the scene on the roof was too entertaining to miss. Paul was wobbling slightly on the roof, grabbing onto Ace’s arm in an attempt to steady himself. Unfortunately, and predictably, Ace was wobbling, too.

“Ace, c’mon, this was a bad idea, let’s—c’mon, man, just teleport us back do—”

“Uh-uh, Paulie. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“You do know I’ve had my hip replaced twice, don’t you?”

“I thought it was three times.” Ace was laughing. Worse, he was swaying. Paul hanging onto him was only making them both more off-balance, teetering towards the edge of the rooftop. But Ace was talking just as easily as if they were safely on the ground. “Two makes more sense. I always wondered how the hell you could break a titanium one—"

“I didn— fuck !” Paul screamed, clutching Ace with both arms as they fell off the roof together. Peter and Gene scrambled off the trampoline, running out to catch them—stupidly, neither of them had thought they’d need to—only to watch them swoop down, and then hover, six or seven feet from the ground.

By that time, Peter was pretty sure that Paul’s face at least had probably gone almost as pale as the greasepaint. He watched as Paul slowly loosened his grip on Ace and then let go entirely, eyes wide, smile spreading even wider as he realized he was still in the air. They both were.

“Ace, we—I—”

“See? I told you!” Ace was letting himself sink down further, barely hovering more than a few inches from the ground before landing in front of Peter and Gene. “I told you, just like a baby.”

“Gene! Gene, look, I’m doing it!”

Gene still had his arms out, hovering half-remembered, as if part of him still thought Paul was about to fall. He didn’t get a single word out before Paul dove down straight toward him, gathering Gene up in his arms and lifting him into the air with him, gradually higher and higher, laughing softly, excitedly. Peter half-expected Gene to start screaming, or at least be clutching Paul for dear life, but he wasn’t. The higher up Paul took him, the more relaxed Gene seemed to get. The looser their grip on each other became. Gene’s arms went from around Paul’s waist to up around his shoulders—then, finally, just as it was getting harder for Peter to get a detailed look, Gene caught Paul’s hands in his own. 

Both of them flying now.

Peter watched them, shaking his head a little, for a few seconds more. They’d land eventually. It took him a bit—it took Ace tugging at his sleeve—before he looked down again. There was a weird winsomeness to Ace’s expression, almost a longing, that made something in Peter itch and ache all at once. But then it faded nearly as soon as it appeared, and Ace’s old, sleepy-eyed grin was back on his face.

“Your turn, Cat. Get your heels on.” He winked. “Don’t worry, I got a whole other rooftop for us to jump off of.”

--

Ace had teleported him as soon as he'd yanked on his boots. Peter knew where they were almost before he’d opened his eyes. Almost like a bottom of the barrel sense. Or maybe it was just the connection bullshit, letting him dig into Ace’s mind without even wanting to. But Peter didn’t think that was all of it. He could recognize this place anywhere. Anytime. The oldest of their stomping grounds as a band. Jimi Hendrix’s old studio in Greenwich Village. The Electric Lady .

They’d never done a photoshoot on the roof or anything. There wasn’t even much physical evidence left that they’d been there at all, besides the records themselves. Just a couple photos from their own albums, mostly, that had gotten scattered like confetti across the internet. Photos from those early, early recording sessions, when they were four nobodies that occasionally drove cabs and taught school and fought petty crime. When they weren’t much better than four kids.

The memories themselves were so intoxicating they were painful. It wasn’t just where they’d first recorded. It was where Peter had first met up with Gene and Paul, before he’d even auditioned for KISS. That made the Electric Lady almost sacrosanct even when he felt most embittered about the band, about the guys. And he wasn’t alone in his sentimentality. Gene and Paul had continued to record there occasionally in the early eighties, too, unable to avoid their own nostalgia.

Peter sat down on the roof, letting his legs dangle off the edge. Ace did, too, swinging them back and forth over the side like a little kid. They sat there in silence at first, watching the people, the traffic. The old, harried energy of Greenwich Village was gone. The weirdness, the newness. The hope.

“It’s not like it was,” Peter said finally.

“You think it was gonna be?”

“No, but I wanted it to be.”

Ace crooked a small smile.

“Y’know, back… aw, hell, it was probably five, six years after the Reunion tour… I was talking to Bobby.”

“You made up with him after that shitty book he wrote?”

“Kind of. It went sour again, dunno.” Ace paused. “Anyway, I was talking to him, and he said to me, he said, ‘Paul, you won’t believe it, I climbed a telephone pole the other day.’”

“The fuck did he do that for?”

“That’s exactly what I asked him. Word for fucking word.” A short, eerie laugh. “He said, ‘to prove I still could.’ He had to’ve been at least fifty then… fifty and climbing telephone poles. I thought it was stupid. But here I am, sixty-eight and—”

“Sixty-eight and flying is pretty good, Ace, I gotta say.”

Ace laughed a little longer.

“Yeah, well. S’like with anything else, all I need is a little motivation.” He was starting to lean his shoulder against Peter’s, just a bit, casual and easy. Pointing at the people going by, the cars going by. “It could be the same. You just gotta squint pretty hard. Get rid of the gentrification and shit… stick the kids in bell bottoms…”

“Can’t do it.”

“Sure, you can.”

“It’s gone, Ace. Can’t bring it back.”

“You can try.”

“Nah. Don’t it make you wanna go home, now,” Peter half-sang under his breath, “don’t it make you wanna go home—”

“All God’s children get weary when they roam,” Ace kept on with the old Joe South chorus, tuneless as always, “God, how I wanna go home… didja have that record, Pete? I had the 45 way back …”

“Lydia’d only give me a three-buck allowance, Ace, what do you think?” Peter laughed quietly. 

“Three bucks? You told me it was a dollar-fifty, man!” Ace shook his head. “Shit, and poor Paulie always bringing you by sandwiches back then ’cause he thought you really were a starving fucking musician—”

“Hey, I didn’t ask for those—"

“I know. He was real sweet. Still is, you just gotta give him a minute to relax.”

“Or five years.” It came out more aggressively than Peter meant it to, and he glanced away, staring at the streets beneath them. Half-full like all the rest of the world. Even the cars looked dismal. None of that toked-up brightness he remembered, none of that hope. The part-time cabbies replaced by Uber drivers, the flowerchildren turned geriatric and bitter with the passage of time. He shook his head.

“Don’t take that long. Just takes being gentle. Gene’s always been real gentle with Paul.” Ace said it without any real rancor. Just matter-of-fact. 

“Gentle, my ass. You mean he lets Paul do whatever the fuck he wants. Fucking bends over for him anytime, every time—”

Ace snickered.

“Didn’t used to—”

“Jesus, Ace, don’t remind me.” Peter winced as if the memory of it was really so awful. Or awful at all. He’d never actually witnessed that much out of Paul and Gene back in the seventies. They’d been about as exclusive as rabbits in heat, anyway. What they’d had, what they still had, Peter didn’t envy. “Doesn’t it piss you off?”

“Nah.” Ace shrugged. “Wouldn’t know what to do if somebody treated me like that. I used to think Gene was trying to make up for something, y’know?” 

“He is.”

Ace shrugged again. Peter let the silence hang in the air for a moment or two before changing the subject.

“Hey, Ace?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s say this all works out and we bring everybody back. What’re we really gonna do after? Where are we gonna go?”

“Jen—”

“No, really.” Peter paused. His throat felt sticky. “Where are we going to live?”

“Pete, we both got a couple million in the bank, we ain’t gonna be homeless—”

“I know we ain’t gonna be homeless, but we ain’t all gonna be living under the same roof anymore, either.”

Ace’s brow started to furrow up.

“I dunno.”

“What if Paul and Gene want to move back to Beverly Hills with their families? We couldn’t afford it out there.” The disparity between their incomes hadn’t been a big deal in five years, with all their relatively communal living. Especially at first, Gene had taken it upon himself to cover most of the expenditures. Then, once Paul had his bearings back enough to at least glance at legal documents long enough to scribble his signature on them, the two of them had mostly split everything in half. Everything but groceries and gas, really. To Peter, it hadn’t felt like they were living off of someone else’s charity, not at all. But in the real world, in a world back to the way it was… “What we’ve got here is gonna go away.”

“Nah, it won’t.” Ace sounded more self-assured than Peter could readily believe. “You think all it’ll take is us not living together to split us up? Shit, Peter, before the last couple years, we only lived together on the road, and—”

“That’s different, though!”

“’S not.” Stretching out, Ace looked over at Peter, brown eyes focused laser-sharp on his face. “We don’t all got a bond because we’re all in the same house. We don’t got a bond because of the talismans, either. We got a bond because—”

“I know.”

Ace’s lips pursed.

“I—”

Peter reached a hand out, catching Ace’s before he could finish. Ace’s expression tensed, then started to soften, slowly, almost imperceptibly. He nodded, and before long, they both stood up, there on the roof of the Electric Lady , there in six-inch heels and leather, hands still clasped.

“You ready, Cat?” Ace started to smile. “I got you no matter what.”

“’M not afraid of heights,” Peter muttered. “You wanna do a countdown?”

“Nah, you make the time—”

“One, two—three—”

Peter felt the brief, awful lurch of falling for hardly a second at best. Then he was hovering, buoyed up by—he didn’t even know. All he knew was the sharpness of the breeze searing through his skin, blowing back his hair. All he felt was that wonderful weightlessness, that ease, trickling down his spine, heady as a glass of champagne. Unreal. 

Ace’s hand tightened around his.

“You gonna fly, Peter, or are we just gonna hang around here?”

Peter only yanked him up with him. Ace’s cackles seemed to soar to the heavens, up and up as they flew higher. Story after story. The people below, and then the buildings, got dimmer and dimmer, blurring out beneath them into pavement gray, each skyscraper like a glittering stalagmite pushing up to the surface as the afternoon sun shot through.

[wasilly1]

2/7/2019

 On the 7th of February, 2019 I was admitted into the hospital for severe dehydration and diarrhea. It's a long story. Let's talk about it. It all began on Wednesday 6th Feb 2019. It was a normal day when I came back from school in the evening my stomach started acting weird. I had a few episodes of diarrhea, I didn't think much about it. At around 9 pm I got a fever and I took an Advil for it. I honestly didn't feel too bad, I just felt a bit sick. 1:30 am 2/7/19 It was a restless night and I woke up at 1:30 am. I went to the bathroom and that's when it all went south. You know when you feel like something is really bad is about to happen. Yeah, that's basically what happened. When I got into the bathroom I collapsed on the counter. I was too tired and I had no idea why. I looked at myself in the mirror. I knew there was something horribly wrong with my body. My breathing was fast paced and my heart rate was spiking. I was too exhausted to stand up. I truly felt too tired to do anything. I felt like giving up and staying there, but I knew if I stayed there the situation would get much worse. I would pass out. My dad came to check if I was ok and I was only able to muster out a few words. I told him I am feeling too tired. As I was walking out of the bathroom I passed out on my parents. They pretty much got the message and they immediately called 911.  My feet were turning numb and my head was spinning. I had a huge headache. It felt like the world was spinning. All that was running through my mind was, "What is wrong with me." The paramedics came and they helped me down the stairs. I could see my unfinished homework laying on the table and my computer still on. It was like a moment frozen in time. I was carried onto the driveway where they put me on a stretcher and then loaded me on the ambulance. When you're going through something like this, everything feels so foreign. Walking down the stairs of my own home felt so different. Looking outside of my house seeing my whole neighborhood felt foreign to me. Everything was moving so fast. Within a few minutes I had been fine and now I could barely walk and I was getting in an ambulance. I was thinking about friends and family and what was next for me. Everything that had been on my mind earlier had been replaced with this reckoning fear of what was occurring. The next thing I knew the ambulance was driving towards the hospital. I have always been intrigued by what it feels like to ride in an ambulance because the last time I was in an ambulance was when I was really young. It's not exactly fun when you are in pain and you are having a horrible headache. I watched as familiar streets zoomed past me.  The paramedics monitored my heart rate and blood pressure. My mom was right there in the ambulance watching it all unfold while my dad was following us in his car. 2:00 am 2/7/19 I reached the hospital at 2:00 am. I was taken into the ER where they took my blood and they ran some tests. They asked my parents a bunch of questions on what had happened.  They asked me how I was feeling. I had no idea what was happening to me.  All I could tell them was that I was too tired to do anything. It was the best response I could give them.  They decided to insert an IV and put me on fluids. Everything was happening so fast. Not long after that, I got a fever and I had to take more pills. I went to sleep. Over the years I have faced many fears. From watching horror movies to being pranked from my friends. All of these have given me a jolt, but do you know what scares me the most. Probably what scares a lot of people the most. It's the fear of not knowing what is wrong with you. That is the worst feeling. When you are down on the ground and you have no idea what's wrong with you. It was that fear that was taking me over at the moment. I woke up sometime later I thought I was feeling better, but apparently, my body didn't think the same way. A lady came into the room where I was being kept. She was the head of the observation unit and she wanted to admit me into their care. An observation unit is where the doctors keep you in the hospital for 24 hours (the longest they can hold you without you being officially admitted) and they basically, you guessed it, observe you. Me thinking that this would be a quick and easy thing was a big mistake. The reason they said they need to observe me was that my blood pressure was very low. My heart rate was also dangerously spiking. It hit 130 BPM at points. They had no explanation for this. All they could say was that it was probably because I was severely dehydrated. Several things clicked in my mind when they said that. I had heard, in books, about all of these things happening when you are severely dehydrated. Extreme fatigue, heart rate spikes, BP drops. They said that this stomach virus had turned my body into a war zone within a few hours. It had already caused me to get several fevers. I stayed in the ER for a really long time. In the time I spent there I met a really nice child-life specialist. Child life specialists are incredible people whose main mission is to make you happy and play games with you. She brought a pack of Uno cards, a book, and some coloring pages. We played a game of Uno while we chatted about our favorite movies. I enjoyed that. 4:00 pm 2/7/19 A few hours later they put me on a wheelchair and they moved me to the observation unit. There they continued to monitor me and check my vitals. I stayed there for multiple hours. There were multiple times when my blood pressure dropped and when my heart rate spiked. As more and more fluids were being pumped my condition was slowly improving. I was beginning to be able to walk, and I thought I would be out pretty soon. It was quite a boring wait. I didn't do much. They had a TV and I watched some Friends on it. Talking about friends, I also got in touch with some of my school friends to tell them about what I was going through. Everything was going pretty good until I started to get fevers again. 7:30 pm 2/7/19 While I was able to walk and stuff, my BP and heart rate were not normal yet. Whenever I woke up my heart rate would abnormally spike and my BP would be really low. They were unsure why and looking at my history of cancer, they didn't want to let something like that just fly by their radar. The same lady who had visited me in the ER came to my room again to talk to my parents. She said that I would need to be admitted into the hospital and that I would need to spend the night. There were many other doctors who stopped by to talk to me and my family. There also ran a few EKGs to find out what was up with my heart. 11:00 pm 2/7/19 I WAS MOVING. I was sleeping and I woke with a startle. They were moving my bed up to the seventh floor. They rolled me down a bunch of hallways and corridors. Not going to lie, I kinda enjoyed that ride. I got to my room and they checked my weight and ran a few more tests and they just went over some details about what would happen while I was admitted. The room was huge. There was a section for two beds and there was a large bathroom. There were also two nice TVs so that meant more Friends. 5:00 am 2/8/19 I was again woken up. There was a nurse checking on my vitals to see how I was doing. 7:00 am 2/8/19 Did you know that you can't sleep in a hospital? I was again awoken by a nurse monitoring my vitals. I decided to stay up from that point. I was feeling much better because I had been hooked to the IV for the entire night so I had received quite a lot of fluids. My dad brought me some breakfast from the hospital's cafe and I had a chance to take a shower. Here's a fun fact. - Taking a shower with an IV is not very easy. 10:00 am 2/8/19 I saw many different faces that day. All of the doctors were there to help me. At one point they had the entire team come to check on me. They do that with each admitted patient. There was a group of around 15 students, interns, and doctors who discussed what was next for me. They talked about how I was doing better and how they may discharge me later that day. I also heard a helicopter landing on the hospital's helipad. That was cool. 1:30 pm 2/8/19 It was a miracle! I had been given my discharge papers. They had given me the clear to leave the hospital. My heart rate and BP was much better and I wasn't severely dehydrated anymore. As I was walking out of the hospital into the parking garage I could see patient passes stuck onto the walls of the garage. There were hundreds of them. Each one was different. A different person. A different patient. A different room. In a sense, it was a celebration of each person's discharge. A celebration that signified the strength of each and every person in that hospital. Conclusion This entire experience had been so crazy. Starting on Wednesday and ending on Friday, my entire system had been flipped on its head. It was a scary experience. There is still some time until I fully recover and return to a hundred percent, but I am glad that I am feeling much better. I want to thank all the doctors/nurses who helped me, and every single person who made me feel better and who made my recovery possible. These people work so hard and spend long hours helping others and I believe they deserve a lot of credit for that. I also want to thank my family and my friends who were there for me when I was at my lowest and who wished me well. I guess a major takeaway from this is to drink a lot of water. Read the full article

[dylan-hague]

Chapter 27

Titans Tower, Jump City. March 3rd, 2018. 5:23 PM.

Kori sat on her bed, looking down at the tablet in her hands. She knew better than to go digging up old business, but still she sat and stared down at the photo on the screen. There in the photograph, looking back at her, was a much younger Tamaranean girl, her emerald eyes brimming with excitement. In her arms holding the camera was a black-haired boy in a green mask, with gloves and boots of the same color, and a red tunic, his yellow cape billowing behind them as they flew over the city below. Starfire and Robin had been inseparable when she arrived on Earth. She shouldn’t have been so naïve… she swiped left across the screen, and the photo moved aside for another one, which Dick had posted on his Facebook this morning… looking into the camera was a beautiful auburn-haired woman, glasses over her blue eyes, lying on her bed with one hand holding a book, the other resting on her round abdomen. “This is what home looks like,” the caption read.

Barbara Gordon. The Batgirl next door.

Don’t misunderstand, Kori loved Barbara dearly. She was caring, and she understood how hard it was for Kori after Dick left. But the romantic affections of a Tamaranean were not the same as those of a human. Humans had the capacity to find love in another if something caused an end to their connection with someone. But for a Tamaranean, that love was undying… once formed, it was nigh impossible to sever. She would always love Barbara… but she should always love Dick.

They talked about it once. Only once. Dick knew that Kori would always feel something for him, and it killed him to think about it. He felt responsible for what she was feeling, but what could he do? He wasn’t going to lead her on, and he knew that his heart belonged to Barbara. It hurt more than anything she’d ever felt before, but she smiled. She told him it was okay. That it wasn’t his fault. Barbara made him happy, and he made Barbara happy. They belonged together. Dick pulled her close, and Kori could still remember how cold his tears felt on her shoulder. He told her she was the best friend he ever had, that there would always be a place in his heart for her. There were days that she wondered if those words were true. But deep down, Kori knew that, while Dick Grayson was many things, he was not a liar. He and Barbara never once did anything to make her feel unwelcome. X'hal, the three of them spent last Christmas together, and it had been one of her fondest memories of the past year. They were so good… so loving. They would be wonderful parents to Tommy.

Tommy... Tommy was all set to arrive in a month. Dick kept on saying he hoped the boy had his mother’s red hair, that he’d come out looking just like her. But if anyone asked Barbara, she would just smile and say she wanted him to look like his father. Sometimes she would joke and say that she could feel the baby leaping around inside her, like a little acrobat. If he jumped like his daddy, odds are he’d look like him too. Personally, Kori agreed with Barbara.

While she was in Blüdhaven that Christmas, Barbara had come to her alone one night. She said that she and Dick understood how painful everything must have been. Dick didn’t want to bring it up, for fear of digging up any hurt Kori had buried, but he and Barbara wanted to ask her to be Tommy’s godmother. Kori couldn’t say yes fast enough; she would love Tommy with all her heart, she promised. And in a way, thinking about holding the little boy in her arms it made everything a little bit easier. Her own little bumgorf… Kori smiled. Dick always got this confused look on his face when she said anything in her native tongue.

As she let her mind drift back through memories of the early days of the Titans, she was quickly brought back to to the world around her by the sound of the front door alert going off. She slowly pulled herself off of her bed, and checked the console mounted in her wall to see who was trying to get inside.

Starfire let out a gasp as Raven appeared on the screen, hunched over and shaking profusely, covered in blood that, judging by her tattered uniform, was like lay her own, and a long trail of the red stuff on the ground behind her.

The older Titan flew as fast as she could through the Tower, and soon found herself joined by her students at the front door. She quickly entered the authorization code, and the doors slid open. Raven fell back through the doorway, her chest quickly rising and falling as she struggled to breathe.

“Raven!” Kori cried as she gathered the girl into her arms. “What happened to you? Where is Damian??”

“He…” the cloaked girl struggled to speak as her eyes drifted closed. “… someone took him…”

Undisclosed location. March 7th, 2018. 3:14 AM.

Damian woke screaming, lurching forward in a panic. He quickly found that unwise, however, as he immediately felt cold iron bands digging into his wrists. His eyes darted all around him, taking in as much information as they could in the dimly lot space he found himself in: cast iron bars stood in place of one wall, and he was chained to the opposite wall, which was made of brick and mortar, and covered in a thick coat of dust. He thought back to the last thing he could remember: he knew he’d been shot. He was just outside of Jump City, and he turned to Raven to ask…

Oh God… Raven.

A light peered out from down the corridor just as the thought occurred to him, and a man appeared on the other side of the bars. His face was hidden beneath a mask, but the scope mounted on his eye was a dead giveaway of his identity: Floyd Lawton.

“Oh, good. You finally woke up,” Deadshot mumbled. “You’ve been out for four days.”

Damian slumped over, hung upright by the chains on his wrists, dead silent.

“Look, kid, this ain’t anything personal…” the assassin went on. “And I hope you know I don’t kill kids. That’s a personal rule. I wouldn’t have shot you if I didn’t know you’d live. But for the price my client put on you? Well… sorry it had to hurt so bad. Bullet was filled with a tranquilizer, so you prob'ly passed out before the pain hit you.”

Damian raised his head, his eyes wide with fear.

“… I need the money for my baby girl. I hope you understand that.” Lawton’s voice showed a touch of sympathy as he spoke. “I know they’re gonna put you through it down here. But I have to take care of my daughter.” The hitman turned away from the bars and looked down at floor. “… my client should be here in a few weeks. I’m sorry it had to go down like this… I’ll be back in a few hours to feed ya. Sit tight, kid.” He started back down the hall, presumably towards the exit…

“… Raven.”

Lawton stopped, turning back to the boy chained up in the cell. “Say again?”

Damian looked into the glowing red scope, where he knew Deadshot could see him. “What… what did you do to my Raven…?”

Lawton grimaced underneath his mask. “Oh… the girl…” he let out a hefty sigh. “My client sent a squad with me to make sure the job got done. Once I put one in your chest, she pulled it right back out, and looks like she closed up the hole too. I…” He shook his head. “They were already on her by the time I came to grab you. Nobody could have lived through that kinda beatin’. I wasn’t gonna get into it, because they prob'ly woulda killed me too. I’m…” Lawton turned and walked back towards the exit. “I’m sorry.”

Damian’s whole body went completely numb. Raven was his silver lining. She was the woman he would hang up his cape for. She was the rain that washed the sins from his soul.

She was his life. She was his heart. She was his everything.

And now, she was dead.

Titans Tower, Jump City. March 11th, 2018. 1:34 AM.

“Jon…”

Raven squinted her eyes as the light flooded into her eyes. Judging by the IV needle she could feel in her arm, the constant beeping of her heart monitor, and the sight of a fresh change of clothes folded up on the mattress beside her, she put two and together to realize that she was back in the Tower Infirmary. Superboy sat unconscious in a chair by her bed, his favorite jacket pulled over his body like a blanket. As soon as she said his name, his eyes opened, and he jumped up to her bedside.

“Raven!” He whispered. “Thank goodness you’re awake! It’s been almost eight days, we were starting to worry that you might not get up…”

“Jon, listen to me.” Raven placed a hand on his to get his attention. “I need you to tell Kori I’m going back to Gotham.

Jon looked her worriedly. "R… Raven, I can’t let you do that. Not by yourself, and especially not right now. You were barely alive when you got back to the Tower, we can’t just–”

“Jon, I’m fine.” Raven sat up, using her magic to restore her strength as she pulled the IV from her arm. “But someone’s kidnapped Damian. I have to find him.”

“No! You don’t have to just run off on your own!” Jon gently placed a hand on Raven’s shoulder. “We’re a team, remember? Let us help you, and we can figure out where–”

“NO.” Raven grabbed Jon by both shoulders as she hopped down from the bed. “No… Jonathan, I have to do this alone… he’s my Damian. I have to take care of him.”

Jon looked into Raven’s eyes for a moment, then let out a sigh in defeat. “… Be careful. Bring him home safe.”

Raven wrapped her arms around Jon’s neck and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Jon. I promise, we’ll be back as soon as we can.”

Jon put his arms around her, squeezing her gently. “Just… don’t get hurt. You two are the best friends I’ve got.”

Raven stepped back, and changed into her fresh outfit as soon as Jon left the room. Once she was ready, she summoned up a portal and stepped into the Batcave, where Bruce and Carrie were waiting, ready to attack. As soon as they realized who she was, the both of them relaxed.

“Good to see you’re awake,” Batman said grimly, pulling the cowl off of his face. “I’ve already been scanning all of California for a signal from Damian’s tracker, but I haven’t found anything yet.”

Raven looked up at Bruce, recognizing Damian’s icy blue eyes staring back at her. “I don’t think he’s in California anymore. Search everywhere. Not just the country–everywhere.”

[pansexualbatgirl-blog]

So like. Some people were kinda confused by the scattered posts and talking from my mutuals bout my new medical issues so I’m just going to quickly explain stuff here rather than to everyone individually. Anyways below this is my horror story of my gallbladder so far. No I did not have surgery yet but I’m scheduling stuff tomorrow when their office is open from the holidays. I’m alright now but occasionally still in pain and have been p much forced onto a diet.

Anyways without further ado, have the extended story of how 2016 fucked me up one more time right at the end. Anyways, I’m avoiding the majority of the gross details (the worst being probably my ultrasound and the pain which was bad)

My gallbladder got infected AND has gallstones (which is like a complicated thing im not gonna explain but long story short: OW) which happened some time just before christmas (the infection part).

Anyways I thought I had the flu the day after so I was tryna rest and stuff but all day on the 26th and 27th I was sick super bad and wasn’t able to eat. and on the 28th i was STILL sick superbad but the pain i thought was just the flu had just gotten super intense. And by that I mean when my moms boyfriend drove me to the hospital I cried at every bump. I was in so much pain it had just taken over my whole stomach and made it hard to walk and move and do anything p much (which was why I had been going to the hospital)

So anyways my mom had work in the morning and so did her boyfriend so nobody was able to stay there with me (and hospitals terrify me, for the record). So anyways I finally get to a room in emerge and the doctor comes in and THANK GOD it had been long enough for the initial tests to come in so I didn’t have to tell them I was a virgin and therefore Not Pregnant 30 billion times (because as a girl going to the hospital for stomach issues, thats their first thought). So he has me lay on my back and then starts pressing on my stomach and I screamed really loud and was caught between shaking and holding still because it hurt so bad i didnt want to move but like. He kept pressing on different places trying to find out where the pain was worst and it was on the right side (which I couldn’t really tell before since it had p much taken over half my body) which is Bad. Like, pain in the right side of your stomach is bad and they thought it was my appendix maybe so I got told I was going to get an xray and an ultrasound.

Which freaked me out.

So after he left the room my nurse came in and told me that it’d only be a few more minutes and then I was having a small anxiety attack so she helped talk me through some questions I had about the type of ultrasound the doctor had planned (bc it was originally gonna be one of the insert-smth-in-your-body ones) and told her I had anxiety issues (which will come up again later). Anyways she explained things in a way that made me feel less scared and then told me it would be painless and how it worked and made sure I was ok before going.

A few minutes later a guy comes in and puts the thing they put IVs in you into my arm and then injected me with morphine and some fluids and then walked me down to wait for my xray (which was so fucking painful lemme tell you. hes lucky the drugs were good or id have passed out by then but again: anxiety. I was too scared to ask for a wheelchair to go there).

So then they do my x-ray and the lady walked me to the ultrasound room. Not sure why (either from dehydration or because the nurse told them i was anxious about the other type) but I got the normal type of ultrasound. Which, idk if all of you have gotten one before, but theyre generally painless. Generally. They coat your belly in gel and then rub it with this thing that shows them your stomach-- painless. And by then the screeching roar of pain had dulled down a bit. Enough for it to only hurt in some places rather than all.

Anyways, she starts and I start crying right away. Like not moving, but tears everywhere. She had to guide my breathing the whole time (okay hun I need you to breathe. deep breath and hold it. okay now breathe, i know it hurts im sorry) and like I don’t know how long I was in there but it felt like forever and I was just in SO much pain the whole time even with the morphine in me.

Anyways bless her soul when she realized I had walked there she just “haha fuck that no i am wheeling you back you are not walking” only more polite and like when I answered I had walked she had this “im going to kill someone on your behalf” look on her face. So yeah she wheeled me back and told me she couldnt tell me about what she had seen on the thing (as they send it to a professional to get the reading) but she had a worried look which left me super anxious.

Ten-ish minutes not even later, the doctor comes back in, along with the nurse. He tells me that theyre admitting me and that it’s my gallbladder. He mentions its infected and my mind just goes blank with terror because when my mom had her gallbladder out it got infected amd she almost died. And at that time it didnt matter that my older sister and like two or three of my aunts had gotten theirs out with no problems, my mind just went straight to “oh my god I am going to die immediately there is no hope Im going to die alone right here in this room”. And the doctor is a bit patronizing and keeps asking me if I understand whats going on and what hes telling me and I just keep nodding and saying yeah and he left me with the nurse to go over the other stuff and I lost it. Like I had asked if I could call my mom (who I knew would understand WHY my anxiety attack had turned to a panic attack) and the nurse had been about to say that she had to go over some medical stuff first but when I broke down she quickly (bless her soul) got me my phone and let me call my mom right away (because again, I was alone at the hospital).

So yeah Im full blown panic mode and I get my mom on the phone and I barely get out “mom its my gallbladder” before i can no longer talk because I’m having trouble breathing. So my moms talking and asking me things (trying to see how bad it is) and I just am having trouble keeping up the conversation because I’m crying so hard so the nurse offers to talk to her and explains what all is going on to my mom for me properly and how bad it is (again, bless this ER nurse because she’s literally my hero). So my mom had mentioned “yeah when I had mine out I almost died from an infection” and my nurse just “yeaahhh lets not tell her that” but the thing is I already knew it was one of the scariest parts of my life and my mom said that and she kinda got how bad it was. Anyways so she gives my phone back and left to go get me something for my anxiety and my mom is telling me to call her if anything comes up and I knew she had to work in the morning so I’m trying to be calmer (because my mom needs p much all the hours that she gets, our family never has had too much money) and I went to ask if she could have her boyfriend or my sister or aunt or someone come sit with me the next day and my voice broke and it was a big sobfest and she just “I’m going to call in right now and drive up there” and Im trying to tell her not to but she just “I wouldnt be able to work with you there alone ANYWAYS” and stayed on with me while she was getting ready then when the nurse came back let me go so she could call her work (it’s community living so theres someone there 24 hours a day to answer, but either way its like one in the morning)

So the nurse brought me a pill for anxiety and chilled with me until it was time to send me up and ALSO had the pill ordered for the floor I was on so Id be able to have one if I had another attack. Now, like taking care of patients is one thing but she was an honest to god angel okay. Like she went way above and beyond what she needed to do and was super kind the whole time and even helped me pack up the little bit of stuff I had. Like good nurses in my hospital arent anything new but she was incredible and I can’t express that enough.

anyways when I’m up in the room they let me wait for my mom to get there (I was put in the old ppl ward because it had the first bed open on that floor, since it shares one with OB). When my mom got there they went over stuff with her and they said they’d know by morning if I was responding well enough to anti-biotics or if I needed an emergency surgery (which wouldve meant the inflamation/infection was very, VERY bad and not getting better). By then Ive mellowed out because morphine + anxiety medication = the highest Jean you ever did see. So I sign some papers and my mom asks more questions and then the nurse leaves (again, I was super high on the crap they gave me so I don’t really remember this part too clearly). But my mom stayed with me until I was falling asleep then gave me a hug and kissed and promised to be back in the morning when the surgeon would make the call.

Morning comes and I wake up and I woke up in too much pain to even try moving enough to hit the red page-y button for a good few minutes. Anyways when I do they bring me pain meds and they take a little while to kick in (as it was oral ones and not morphine this time) but kick in they did and by the time my mom got there (like half an hour later, its a 20ish minute drive from her place) I was very much high again (albeit still in pain).

So we wait for FOREVER for the doctor to come in and I get the news that I don’t need surgery right away but DO still need it. Annnnddd then I’m told Im spending another night there which was blah. I was also told that I wasnt allowed to eat or drink anything and that I’d be on antibiotics and fluids through my arm since they had to flush out my system or whatever.

She sat with me most of the day and chatted with the older lady’s son who was my moms age nd really nice to me even tho i spent most of the day half asleep nd full of painmeds. Anyways aroundlike 2ish? they took me to another room with a new nurse (this one in OB where I was supposed to be) and the guy wished me good luck and joked around bout how they’d loan me a wheelchair because his mom had like 4 different varieties in there ok. So in OB I had my own room and it was super big and the bed was super comfy,

Anyways my mom had to leave and let her dogs out and take care of my animals at my place so I laid there and napped off and on between pain meds and messaged some people and such. I kept dozing off on everyone though and needing to take breaks from talking and honestly theres not much to tall about this part. I slept and slept and my mom came back later and brought me a colouring book, a change of clothes, toothpaste nd toothbrush. Whcih is important because the morphine made my mouth taste gross and I wasnt allowed to have water even. Toothpaste with a gross mouth is a blessing. Boi, the things you appreciate when in the hospital lemme tell you.

Anyways I had to stay another night, this one less eventful and with less pain. I slept the whole thing nd in the morning I was feeling good enough to get up without pain meds (which i didnt need the rest of the day either woohoo). And my appetite came back (I hasn’t eaten since christmas night and even then, not that much as i didnt want food really. I hadn’t really been eating much at all that day or the couple before it) which was both good and bad... good because it meant I was getting better and bad because I was FUCKING HUNGRY OH MY GOD. But I had been dying for a drink since the day before so when later that day one of the peeps came in with apple juice and ice water I was so happy. When I was able to handle that ok I got a liquid lunch (jello, a popsicle nd broth and MORE APPLEJUICE!!!) and it was good. I got discharged not long after nd then got to go home after getting antibiotics nd pain pills.

So now the plan is to book a follow up tomorrow (since the office was closed due to the holidays) and then i go in for surgery round the middle of february. Which means I’ll probably be in the hospital on my birthday which is, you know, wonderful. Although the bright side is I’ll probably get pity presents. Maybe I’ll get a pity party. BUT I’M NO LONGER ALLOWED CAKE SO IT DOESNT EVEN MATTER.

Like I’m not on an as-little-fat-as-possible diet until its out since fattty stuff will iritate/inflame it again. I also have to avoid sugar or eating a lot at once so. Bright side I’ll probably lose the weight ive been trying to get off downside i cant eat fucking anything and i hate everything 60% of the time.

But ya that’s my story if you read this far ilu nd thanks for listening to me bitch

[wasilly1]

2/7/2019

 On the 7th of February, 2019 I was admitted into the hospital for severe dehydration and diarrhea. It's a long story. Let's talk about it. It all began on Wednesday 6th Feb 2019. It was a normal day when I came back from school in the evening my stomach started acting weird. I had a few episodes of diarrhea, I didn't think much about it. At around 9 pm I got a fever and I took an Advil for it. I honestly didn't feel too bad, I just felt a bit sick. 1:30 am 2/7/19 It was a restless night and I woke up at 1:30 am. I went to the bathroom and that's when it all went south. You know when you feel like something is really bad is about to happen. Yeah, that's basically what happened. When I got into the bathroom I collapsed on the counter. I was too tired and I had no idea why. I looked at myself in the mirror. I knew there was something horribly wrong with my body. My breathing was fast paced and my heart rate was spiking. I was too exhausted to stand up. I truly felt too tired to do anything. I felt like giving up and staying there, but I knew if I stayed there the situation would get much worse. I would pass out. My dad came to check if I was ok and I was only able to muster out a few words. I told him I am feeling too tired. As I was walking out of the bathroom I passed out on my parents. They pretty much got the message and they immediately called 911.  My feet were turning numb and my head was spinning. I had a huge headache. It felt like the world was spinning. All that was running through my mind was, "What is wrong with me." The paramedics came and they helped me down the stairs. I could see my unfinished homework laying on the table and my computer still on. It was like a moment frozen in time. I was carried onto the driveway where they put me on a stretcher and then loaded me on the ambulance. When you're going through something like this, everything feels so foreign. Walking down the stairs of my own home felt so different. Looking outside of my house seeing my whole neighborhood felt foreign to me. Everything was moving so fast. Within a few minutes I had been fine and now I could barely walk and I was getting in an ambulance. I was thinking about friends and family and what was next for me. Everything that had been on my mind earlier had been replaced with this reckoning fear of what was occurring. The next thing I knew the ambulance was driving towards the hospital. I have always been intrigued by what it feels like to ride in an ambulance because the last time I was in an ambulance was when I was really young. It's not exactly fun when you are in pain and you are having a horrible headache. I watched as familiar streets zoomed past me.  The paramedics monitored my heart rate and blood pressure. My mom was right there in the ambulance watching it all unfold while my dad was following us in his car. 2:00 am 2/7/19 I reached the hospital at 2:00 am. I was taken into the ER where they took my blood and they ran some tests. They asked my parents a bunch of questions on what had happened.  They asked me how I was feeling. I had no idea what was happening to me.  All I could tell them was that I was too tired to do anything. It was the best response I could give them.  They decided to insert an IV and put me on fluids. Everything was happening so fast. Not long after that, I got a fever and I had to take more pills. I went to sleep. Over the years I have faced many fears. From watching horror movies to being pranked from my friends. All of these have given me a jolt, but do you know what scares me the most. Probably what scares a lot of people the most. It's the fear of not knowing what is wrong with you. That is the worst feeling. When you are down on the ground and you have no idea what's wrong with you. It was that fear that was taking me over at the moment. I woke up sometime later I thought I was feeling better, but apparently, my body didn't think the same way. A lady came into the room where I was being kept. She was the head of the observation unit and she wanted to admit me into their care. An observation unit is where the doctors keep you in the hospital for 24 hours (the longest they can hold you without you being officially admitted) and they basically, you guessed it, observe you. Me thinking that this would be a quick and easy thing was a big mistake. The reason they said they need to observe me was that my blood pressure was very low. My heart rate was also dangerously spiking. It hit 130 BPM at points. They had no explanation for this. All they could say was that it was probably because I was severely dehydrated. Several things clicked in my mind when they said that. I had heard, in books, about all of these things happening when you are severely dehydrated. Extreme fatigue, heart rate spikes, BP drops. They said that this stomach virus had turned my body into a war zone within a few hours. It had already caused me to get several fevers. I stayed in the ER for a really long time. In the time I spent there I met a really nice child-life specialist. Child life specialists are incredible people whose main mission is to make you happy and play games with you. She brought a pack of Uno cards, a book, and some coloring pages. We played a game of Uno while we chatted about our favorite movies. I enjoyed that. 4:00 pm 2/7/19 A few hours later they put me on a wheelchair and they moved me to the observation unit. There they continued to monitor me and check my vitals. I stayed there for multiple hours. There were multiple times when my blood pressure dropped and when my heart rate spiked. As more and more fluids were being pumped my condition was slowly improving. I was beginning to be able to walk, and I thought I would be out pretty soon. It was quite a boring wait. I didn't do much. They had a TV and I watched some Friends on it. Talking about friends, I also got in touch with some of my school friends to tell them about what I was going through. Everything was going pretty good until I started to get fevers again. 7:30 pm 2/7/19 While I was able to walk and stuff, my BP and heart rate were not normal yet. Whenever I woke up my heart rate would abnormally spike and my BP would be really low. They were unsure why and looking at my history of cancer, they didn't want to let something like that just fly by their radar. The same lady who had visited me in the ER came to my room again to talk to my parents. She said that I would need to be admitted into the hospital and that I would need to spend the night. There were many other doctors who stopped by to talk to me and my family. There also ran a few EKGs to find out what was up with my heart. 11:00 pm 2/7/19 I WAS MOVING. I was sleeping and I woke with a startle. They were moving my bed up to the seventh floor. They rolled me down a bunch of hallways and corridors. Not going to lie, I kinda enjoyed that ride. I got to my room and they checked my weight and ran a few more tests and they just went over some details about what would happen while I was admitted. The room was huge. There was a section for two beds and there was a large bathroom. There were also two nice TVs so that meant more Friends. 5:00 am 2/8/19 I was again woken up. There was a nurse checking on my vitals to see how I was doing. 7:00 am 2/8/19 Did you know that you can't sleep in a hospital? I was again awoken by a nurse monitoring my vitals. I decided to stay up from that point. I was feeling much better because I had been hooked to the IV for the entire night so I had received quite a lot of fluids. My dad brought me some breakfast from the hospital's cafe and I had a chance to take a shower. Here's a fun fact. - Taking a shower with an IV is not very easy. 10:00 am 2/8/19 I saw many different faces that day. All of the doctors were there to help me. At one point they had the entire team come to check on me. They do that with each admitted patient. There was a group of around 15 students, interns, and doctors who discussed what was next for me. They talked about how I was doing better and how they may discharge me later that day. I also heard a helicopter landing on the hospital's helipad. That was cool. 1:30 pm 2/8/19 It was a miracle! I had been given my discharge papers. They had given me the clear to leave the hospital. My heart rate and BP was much better and I wasn't severely dehydrated anymore. As I was walking out of the hospital into the parking garage I could see patient passes stuck onto the walls of the garage. There were hundreds of them. Each one was different. A different person. A different patient. A different room. In a sense, it was a celebration of each person's discharge. A celebration that signified the strength of each and every person in that hospital. Conclusion This entire experience had been so crazy. Starting on Wednesday and ending on Friday, my entire system had been flipped on its head. It was a scary experience. There is still some time until I fully recover and return to a hundred percent, but I am glad that I am feeling much better. I want to thank all the doctors/nurses who helped me, and every single person who made me feel better and who made my recovery possible. These people work so hard and spend long hours helping others and I believe they deserve a lot of credit for that. I also want to thank my family and my friends who were there for me when I was at my lowest and who wished me well. I guess a major takeaway from this is to drink a lot of water. Read the full article