oneshots ; gawsten

"don't touch me."

this is over 4k. this is also one of the most painful things i've ever written. i have a problem.

sequel to "nothing is wrong with you."

"don't touch me."

It was a bad idea.

It was a bad idea from the beginning, from the moment Geoff dropped into his lap and kissed his face so soft, pressed his lips against the side of his head while gripping his chin tightly, from when he felt the breath against his face and the lips moving against the shell of his ear, come on love, please? if it doesn't go well we'll come home, promise. I just think it'd be nice for you to get out of the house, hm?

Awsten, you know I love you with all my heart, but you've forced me to stay in this damn house day and night for the past six months and if I don't get a night out to see my friends I'll fucking lose it.

It was supposed to get easier.

The accident is six months in the past and he's been learning fast. Your center of balance is much lower now. Everything previously in your reach isn't, anymore. You're using muscles you've never used in this way before. They're going to hurt. You'll be in pain.

They're going to hurt.

You'll be in pain.

It's a different kind of pain.

It's an ache, one that resides deep in his bones, one that he feels, every second of every day. He's lifting his arms and pushing his chair from one room to the other, feeling the pain just barely begin to settle and nestle against the hard structure of his bones, before starting up again.

It comes in layers.

There's always one that clings to his muscles, follows him around wherever he goes, a reminder of hey, you're gonna be like this for the rest of the life. Didja forget? You're gonna be like this for the rest of your life. Justa stupid sacka flesh in a chair that everyone feels bad for. Geoff doesn't love you. He's just here because no one else wants to do it and he's too nice to say no. You're gonna be like this for the rest of your life.

You're gonna be like this for the rest of your life.

Some days he forgets about it, lets himself get pulled into the world he's living in, stops being witness to his reality and participates in it for once. Some days the burden doesn't feel so big, the weight doesn't feel so heavy; some days it doesn't feel like he's carrying the sky on his shoulders.

It's pressing against him, forcing him to the ground, taking advantage of his useless legs and turning his body to mush. It doesn't feel human. He doesn't feel human. Everything is different in a way he never dreamed of conceptualizing.

Everything is different and everything is hard and it feels like he's being torn apart. He wants to scream. It's all red that's all he sees redredred- and he wants to rip he wants to scratch he wants to tear he wants to kill fuck you useless pieces of shit fucking work for fuck's sakes you're fucking useless you have one job why the fuck can't you do it-

It's red some days. His chest feels too full, like everything is about to burst. He's on that edge, teetering precariously over the bottom. He lives like that, with the constant spike in his heart rate and increase in his breathing, constantly feeling like he's going to fall- it's all fuzzy and blurry and spinning everything is spinning why won't it stop spinning everything is spinning-

The wave crashes some days. He falls and feels it all the way down, feels his body smack against the ground and the intense pain that starts in his thighs, travels through the rest of his legs and stays, intensifies, until everything is burning. The world is on fire and all he has are marshmallows.