Ghost Whispers |-/ Joshler

mit·i·gate

/ˈmidəˌɡāt/
verb
to lessen in force or intensity, as wrath, grief, or pain; to make one's state of mind milder or more gentle.

My edit :)

Mortem doesn't do much while Tyler and Josh are away. He pops in for a few quick stolen looks at Josh but other than that, he's at the house, lying around and fighting his internal conflict.

To say he was going through an identity crisis was an understatement.

He's lying on Tyler's bed, bemoaning his birth. Born of hellfire and grief, Mortem was a demon of suicide who wished he could be something more. Something better.

"You feeling down, Mort?"

Mortem sat up, finding Abraxas standing over the bed.

"Please don't. I don't like that name." Mortem tucked his legs under his body, grabbing onto the end of his feet for security.

"Why not? Everyone likes nicknames."

"Well I don't."

"That aside," Abraxas sighed and sat on the bed next to him. "What's bothering you?"

Mortem didn't want to tell. The demon was his own enemy, even if they had a short-lived alliance. He didn't want to tell in fear of Abraxas using the shame against him.

But if there's one thing Mortem had found out about himself, it was that he had to be truthful, and not just with himself, but with others.

"I feel like I should be an angel. Be beautiful." He admitted.

"A what?" Abraxas snorted. "That's crazy. The angels are pretentious drones of God. We serve Satan, we bring him the souls. We already are beautiful."

"No, we're not. We're-we're disgusting, greedy creatures following some jester of God. Being holy is what's right, and I'm tired of being wrong!" Mortem blurted.

He felt his tics settle back in, and his head was twitching again, along with his eyes blinking unevenly.

"Mort, I-" Abraxas stopped when he saw the other demon flinch at the name.

"Mortem...You shouldn't feel dirty. We do what we do so we can survive. If we don't follow Father, then we'll be killed. You don't want that, do you?"

Mortem shook his head like a little kid, all loose and pouty.

"So let's keep on doing it, okay? This can all be over soon."

Mortem had to reluctantly agree.

"Okay. We'll get Tyler."

"Whoo, come on, Tyler!" Josh hollered from an empty seat in the stands. He clapped his hands and stood up when Tyler intercepted the ball.

Hearing Josh's voice above all the others in the crowded gymnasium had Tyler grinning as he dribbled down the court.

Blocked by a sweaty teenage boy, he maneuvered around him until he saw an open spot on the left wing.

He passed it off and looped around so as to get open again.

Quincy scored, bringing them up to 23. The opposing team had 18, but it was only the third quarter. They would try their hardest and do whatever it takes, even if it meant having a few of their players fouling out.

And that meant that the small, almost frail point guard--Tyler--was put at the most risk.

They ran back to their basket for defense, and Tyler was just about to guard the other team's point, when he saw Josh out of the corner of his eye.

He was watching him with a moony expression, giggling. Tyler was surprised. None of his friends ever acted like that around him. Josh was different.

The offense's point came charging towards Tyler, catching him off guard. He tried to block any movement past the half court line, but he was too late.

He made a quick move and his ankle twisted. He went down on the floor, with shooting pains up his entire right leg.

"Tyler!" Josh ran across the court.

The buzzer sounded and Tyler was helped up by his team, along with a few others from the opposing.

He limped over to the sidelines and was plopped down in a cushioned chair. He winced every time his ankle moved even an inch.

"Back up, guys. He probably just rolled his ankle." Coach Mathis took a knee, grunting at the impact of his bulbous knee on the linoleum.

He took Tyler's foot in his hand, flipping it around and inspecting it. Josh could see how much pain Tyler was in and freaked out.

"Stop, you're hurting him!" He cried, pacing back and forth, trying to somehow stop the coach.

"Oh my god, oh y god, Tyler, are you okay?"

Tyler raised an eyebrow at Josh. He laughed a little too.

"I'm fine," he said. His actions betrayed his words when coach grasped his ankle tightly.

Josh squeaked. He couldn't stand this, and it was very amusing to Tyler.

Coach Mathis did something wrong, and wrenched the already pulled muscle. Tyler grabbed onto the chair next to him in support, tears falling.

"Whoops," Coach muttered. He really didn't mean to do that.

By now, Josh was yelling at the man, cursing him out for hurting Tyler more than he already was. Ooh, if he could just slap him right now, that'd be great.

Everyone was surprised when they heard Tyler laughing through small whimpers. Josh stopped, turning a curious head.

With a faltering little smile, Tyler looked right back at Josh. If he could only talk to him right now, he'd tell him not to worry, even though it was kinda adorable when he got over-protective.

The players and coaches around him were confused as to why he was laughing, but they were at least glad that he wasn't crying out in pain anymore.

"Why are you laughing?" Josh asked.

"Nothing, nothing," he shook his head and laughed, "You're just funny."

Jay and Chris exchanged a look. Who was he talking to?

Tyler sat out for the game with Josh behind him, hands on the back of the chair. He constantly asked Tyler if he was feeling okay. The answer was the same every time: "I'm okay, Josh. Don't worry."

When they got home, Kelly put Tyler on mandatory bed rest. They had another game tomorrow night, and he had to be healed by then.

It was another night of lying in bed like a married couple, with a few moans of pain being drawn from Tyler's mouth when he shifted his leg.

Josh felt horrible for not being able to help him. It was like he was supposed to bandage a knife wound but everything he needed to do that was just out of his reach, scattered across the floor.

He couldn't keep it in anymore. His lip trembled as the tears escaped his eyes and dropped off of his nose.

Not being able to touch Tyler in this trying time was the straw that broke the camel's back. He could do nothing to stop the onslaught of sorrow which had his body awash in pain.

"I can't do this," he muttered just above a whisper. He got up from the bed and crossed the room.

"Josh? Josh, where are you going?"

He tried to get out of bed too, but his ankle folded under the sudden weight and he fell down on his hands and knees. Josh has already left through a portal to the second plane.

He didn't know what he'd do there, but it was better than being in the same room as the boy he loved, who was injured without being able to help.

The second plane would just serve as a place to let out his emotions. He just didn't know that Mortem lurked there in the shadows.