#platonic bloodnoise

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Prove It

Summary: Noise could just learn to fight again using the side of his body that has visibility.  But that's too easy.

…

For the first couple weeks, Noise gets their ass handed to them a lot.  Their side is often bruised, or their back, or in worst-case scenarios, their face.

So he practices more.  That’s the only option, obviously.  He will not allow himself to have a handicap.  Not one he can’t overcome, at least.  He will not give the Bard King the satisfaction.

So he practices, and practices, and practices.  He improves his skills, and balance, he learns how to hold his head so he can see as much as possible, and when he can’t, he learns how to judge where things will be based on what he hears.

It takes several months, but eventually, Noise is better at fighting on their blind side than they are on their good side.  And something in their chest finally relaxes at the thought.  It’s like saying, “See?  I can do it.  You didn’t hurt me that badly, and if you did, I beat it.”

In fact, there are times it seems to be an advantage, because people tend to underestimate him when they see him holding a sword on the same side he has an eyepatch.  He can kick their ass and surprise them while doing it, which is better than just kicking their asses in the first place.  It should be obvious to everyone that he’s perfectly capable, he’s just proved it.

For some reason, though, they can’t get rid of the annoying voice in the back of their head that keeps demanding they do more.  That they have further to go.  It sounds suspiciously like the voices that hiss in their ear as they pass them in the hallway “you didn't earn that chair.”

There’s another voice, too, one that instead of demanding more, demands he rest.  That one sounds suspiciously like Youngblood, probably because Youngblood was the one that would always tell him to rest.

He’d have ridiculous amounts of work as first chair too, but he’d still make time to show up in Noise’s doorway, scoop them up from their desk, and carry them over to their bed.

“You’re going to burn yourself out,” he’d say, giving them a look.  “Or hurt yourself.  And then you can tell me who’s gonna take care of your ass while you recover, cause it’s not gonna be me.”

It was always him.

But Noise can’t afford to slow down now.  He can’t take one more person saying that he didn’t earn that chair.  If no one can see how hard and how long he’s worked for this (without even getting it at first, for that matter), then he has to force them to see it.  He just has to prove to everyone else what he already knows, that he’s more capable of this than Youngblood ever was.  It doesn’t matter how exhausted he is.  Lack of sleep comes with the job description.  It’s not like he’s finding it easy to sleep lately anyway.  Tonight he’s been trying and failing for the past hour.

Noise rolls over in bed and wraps their tail around their burned arm.

See, Youngblood?  You didn’t hurt me that badly.  I’m fine.  Even the Bard King deciding to partially blind me can’t stop me from landing back on my feet.  I’m fine, I’m thriving.  You’re going to regret leaving once you see how amazing I’m doing without you.

Noise turns and buries his head in his pillow.

You are going to regret leaving, right?