Statehouse Oneshots

Am I breathing underwater

Tw: graphic descriptions of intrusive thoughts, mentions of blood

Disclaimer: Asking for help does not make you weak! >:(

Requested by Jadeursa

He stumbled into the kitchen, hands slamming down harshly on the counter, making his way towards the sink. He allowed himself no time to recover, it was just a short trip for water, he doesn't need help he can function perfectly well on his own. Even in his current condition.

He tried to keep his breathing steady, forced his body to cooperate, ignoring his aching lungs that already burned. It was one trip. He can get through it without giving in to the smoke that's burning his lungs, taking over his brain so there's barely any room to think, wrapping around him and squeezing until he's suffocating.

He chokes, steeling himself as best he can as he's sent into another coughing fit.

Now New Mexico didn't really have much of a problem with fire, not as bad as some of the others are, but God the smoke.

That's the stuff that fucked him over the most. Every breath felt like swallowing sandpaper, every cough felt like his lungs were being torn open. Not to mention the heat the burned just under his skin, felt like a sunburn but with no way to treat it.

It was annoying as fuck and all he needed right now was a glass of water. Just one glass.

When the smoke clears enough for his body to let up, he spots a new pile of blood infront of him. Taunting him. Look at how weak you are, can't even go on a short walk without almost dying. Imagine by the end of this you cough up all your organs. Wouldn't that be fun.

He shook his head,cleaning up the spatter and reaching up to the cupboards for a glass, trying to stiffle his coughs.

Something cold was in his hands before he could grab one, and it took him a second to realize it was a glass of water.

"Hey," The voice of his brother sounded beside him, lacking it's usual upbeat lilt. "You ok there?"

"I'm fine Ari." He shouldn't be worrying about him. He's got his isn problems with this heatwave. "Just smoke."

Smoke that scrubbed his insides raw, feeling like he's trying to breath underwater, the unending thoughts of holes being torn into his lungs, his throat being shredded that's probably what's happening-

It's not. He knows it's not.

"I can deal with it."

That and a million other things that had ever bothered him. He was used to doing it on his own, even though people offered to help. Guess you're just selfish.

"Enough with that! You're getting help and-"

It looked like Arizona was suppressing a coughing fit of his own.

"-and you don't get to complain!"

"I can too!"

"Too late I already called in backup you stubborn fuck."

More people flood in the kitchen, he's handed more things, steadied, and lead away back to his room. He's given fans and a smoothie, and finally left be, old alien sightings playing on his TV.

Maybe for once he'll let himself be weak.