Devil in Detroit | Detroit: Become Human

𝐕𝐈𝐈. BREAKING NEWS

CHAPTER SEVEN

DETROIT, MICHIGAN

( November 7th, 2038 )

LIGHT SPILLED INTO THE ROOM, causing Asra to groan and turn his head to face the wall. His stomach rumbled in protest as he turned his nose away from the smell of breakfast. Hank sighed, leaning against the door frame, his body blocking some of the light that flooded Asra's room. "You can't lay in bed all day, kid. It's almost 10:00 a.m., let's go." Asra groaned in protest. Hank chuckled. "You know, usually I'd let you sleep in, but I'm not letting you mess up your sleep schedule. Come on," he insisted, crossing his arms.

Realizing that Hank wasn't going to leave him alone until he got up, Asra sighed, turning over onto his back and pushing himself up. He glared at Hank for a moment before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, sighing heavily. "Okay, okay, I'm up. What's for breakfast?" he asked, just managing to get the words out before he yawned into his arm.

"Bacon, eggs, hashbrowns, toast, uh, the french kind. I made extra bacon," Hank offered. He looked just as exhausted as Asra felt, and it took Asra a moment to remember that Hank had gotten home near three in the morning. The only reason Asra knew that was because he couldn't fall asleep without knowing Hank was home safe. Hearing Hank stumble into the kitchen gave Asra enough assurance to finally sleep. They were both running on less than seven hours of sleep, and for two people that were often asleep before midnight and at work after twelve hours of sleep, it wasn't a good look.

"Let me get dressed, I'll be out in a few minutes," Asra sighed. Hank nodded, flicking on the light in Asra's room to make sure Asra didn't fall back asleep, before he left, closing the door behind him as he went. Asra continued to sit in bed for a few minutes, letting himself adjust to the crushing reality of being awake and allowing his body to catch up with the events that had happened last night.

His chest hurt. Taking in deep breaths left him feeling more winded than he should have been. His eyes were still puffy from crying, and his face hurt from having it shoved into the pillow all night. Most of all, he felt like he could barely move, his limbs exhausted from his panic attack the night before. Just once, Asra wished that Hank didn't give so much of a damn about him, being concerned about Asra fucking up his sleep schedule. Didn't he deserve to rest after the hell he had been put through last night?

He stood, stretching his arms above his head and wrinkling his nose at the feeling of things popping into place under his skin. Asra stumbled out of his room and into the hallway, taking a moment to use the bathroom and splash water onto his face to wake himself up, though he was sure Hank had made them coffee. The cold water shocked his nerves awake, but he still spent a few moments watching the droplets fall off his skin and into the sink below, being careful not to get the floor or the edge of the sink wet. He was sure Hank wouldn't give a damn, but it would be annoying to have to clean up.

It took him about five minutes longer to feel ready to leave the bathroom, and when he got to the kitchen, Hank already had two plates of food laid out. He had gone all out on breakfast that morning, perfectly cooked eggs and hashbrowns, bacon ranging from chewy to crispy, cinnamon-covered French toast. Hank had even made extra bacon, as he'd promised Asra in his room, knowing that Asra could and would scarf down a whole plate of his own if he could.