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Raegan tilted her head when he muttered Awful? That’s rude. The words were there, but the tone was all wrong. It wasn’t the half-playful bite she was used to — no spark of mock offense, no cheeky glint in his eyes. Just flat, like it had taken effort to push the syllables out at all. She made a little face at him anyway, because that was her role here, right? “Yeah, rude,” she said with a shrug, the corner of her mouth twitching into a small grin. Normally, she would’ve expected at least a smirk back, maybe a smart remark to volley between them. This time, all she got was that distracted hair-rake of his, fingers making a mess of what had probably already been a lost cause. Buuutttt, it was eating away at her stomach, so after a split moment she shook her head and wrinkled her nose, kind of looking up at him as though she was inspecting him. "Hmm. I was mistaken. As handsome and charming as ever!" She teased, offering a hopefully encouraging smile. Still, she didn’t let the mood dip entirely. The wrap comment at least got her to laugh — soft, but real. "You look like you need it." She threw in a mock-solemn nod to seal the statement, hoping the sound of her voice carried him along with her. But his smile, when it came, looked like it had been stitched together from scraps — too taut at the edges, too tired in the middle. She didn’t push. Not directly. If he wanted to talk, he’d talk. And if he didn’t… well, she could still get him moving. She gestured toward the hallway ahead, stepping forward with a bright little spark in her voice. “Come on, you’ve got the grand tour ahead of you. You’re about to see the inner workings of the mighty Blue Ridge medical empire. I know you’re thrilled.” The hallway lights hummed overhead, a faint echo of footsteps bouncing off the tile as they walked. She glanced sideways at him now and then — just quick flickers, never long enough to make it obvious she was watching. He looked… restless. Not twitchy, not fidgety exactly, but like every muscle in his body was wound tight and couldn’t quite let go. That thought made her chest tighten, so she focused instead on the first stop. “This,” she said, sweeping her arm toward a windowed room on their left, “is where the magic happens. And by magic, I mean the thing that makes everyone’s life slightly worse.” Inside, a massive printer-scanner-fax-monstrosity sat humming. “That’s Bertha. She’s temperamental, she eats paper, and she smells faintly of toner and despair. But she’s ours.” The faint grin stayed on her face as she moved on, letting the sight sit there for him, hoping maybe the little slice of absurdity would land somewhere good in his head. They rounded a corner, passing the nurse’s station. Raegan gave a little wave to one of her coworkers, who raised an eyebrow but smiled back. “And here’s the command center. You have to be at least eighty percent caffeinated to work here or the whole place collapses. It’s in the bylaws.” She took another sip from her own coffee, eyes flicking briefly to his face again. Still distant. Still locked away somewhere she couldn’t quite reach. So she kept talking, kept pointing things out. If he wouldn’t let her pull him in with questions, she’d try with momentum. She stopped in front of a wall lined with framed photos. “This is my favorite part,” she said, her tone softening but gaining a warmth that was real, unforced. The pictures were of staff events — holiday parties, goofy Halloween costumes, a few candid shots of people mid-laugh. She tapped one with her finger, a photo of her in a ridiculous reindeer headband, holding a tray of cookies. “I made those cookies. They were terrible. Like… sand-with-sugar terrible. But everyone pretended they were amazing. I'll make some for you one day," she chuckled, rolling her eyes at the thought of force feeding him the worst cookies in the entire universe. Past the photos was a smaller, cozier lounge area, and her voice picked up with genuine enthusiasm. “Okay, and this—this is the crown jewel. Staff room coffee machine. It makes coffee so strong it could probably dissolve concrete. But it’s fast, and when you’ve been on your feet for nine hours, that’s all that matters.” She reached out to pat the top of the machine like it was a pet. “Forget the doctors, surgens and nurses. You have no idea how many lives this thing has saved.” They lingered there for a moment. She busied herself with rinsing out her cup, all the while feeling that pull in her gut — the awareness of him standing beside her, heavy in his silence. She didn’t ask. She didn’t tell him she could see it written in the set of his shoulders or the way he kept scanning the corners of the room like he was waiting for something to happen. Instead, she refilled her coffee and handed him a cup without asking if he wanted it. The tour carried them further in, her words flowing easier now that she was on familiar ground. “Over here’s the supply room. It’s chaos. We have a system, it just looks like a linen closet that exploded.” She swung the door open to reveal shelves stacked with neatly labeled bins, her voice lifting with a touch of pride. “Okay, I organized this. It was a disaster before. I deserve a medal.” Through it all, that little thread of worry tugged at her. She didn’t know what storm he was standing in, but she could feel it radiating off him in quiet waves. And the more she talked, the more she wanted to pull him into something lighter — not because it would fix anything, but because maybe, just for a moment, it could be a crack in whatever wall he’d built up around himself in the last... fifteen hours? Finally, she nudged open her office door and waved him in. “And here we are. Try not to be too impressed.” It was modest — desk, shelves lined with binders and a few potted plants that were somehow still alive. On the wall, a corkboard crammed with postcards, photos, and little doodles from patients. She dropped into her chair and gestured for him to take the one across from her. “You sit there, you eat that wrap, finish that coffee, then I'll set you free if you ask nicely," she chirped. She smiled at him, not forcing it, but letting it be warm and steady. If she couldn’t get him to relax, she could at least anchor him here, in this room, with her. Maybe later, when the tour (that she was actually incredibly excited about) was over, he’d relax a bit. But for now, she’d keep talking, keep showing him the pieces of her world that made her proud of... well, herself she supposed. She wanted to share that with him, no matter how self-involved it may sound. |
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It was getting worse. Every second he stood here his mind fell deeper and deeper, and he knew if it fell for much longer it'd never get back out again. The pit was too deep, too vast, too dark. Thoughts rushed through his head more quickly by the second, faster and faster until he felt dizzy. They seemed to be racing circles around him, taunting him. He could almost see Konig, laughing at the failure he'd become. Sierra, flinching away when he got that wild look in his eye. Otto, saying this wasn't truly his son. Axl was about ready to request to be put in an insane asylum. His mind was cracking open, his very skull trying to shatter. What was holding it together. What could he grasp onto so he didn't go under. . His eyes slowly shifted to her as she cheerfully spoke, saying he was as 'handsome and charming as ever'. Obviously his lack of sarcastic reaction to her former comment had triggered her to decide that she needed to try and say something uplifting. "Glad you figured it out." He mused quietly. His answer to this, if anything, should alert her that something was terribly wrong. If he didn't jump in with both feet at any chance to jokingly accept praise like a Cheshire cat knowing it is the best, then something was truly amiss. He knew this, obviously, but he couldn't bring himself to fix it. To speak and help. His mind told him to say something funny yet at the same time it refused to conjure a single word. . He didn't even respond to this next thing, only humming quietly to show that he did indeed hear. He was trying so hard, but he felt like he was stuck in quicksand. The more he struggled, the faster he sunk. His brain berated him for being so rude yet at the same time it woefully wailed over and over about how he needed to spend what little time he had left. Hopefully doing something other than wallowing in this. . "Quite thrilled indeed." Axl perked up just slightly, his thoughts registering how enthusiastic and happy she sounded. If she was excited about this, then he should be. No, he was. He dragged his head out of the sludge, walking along beside her yet not too closely, in view so she didn't have to crane her head around to see him. He just wanted to make her happy- he should at least do that. If he died tomorrow, at least he knew he had done something good for her. Because of this, he poured every ounce of energy he had into paying rapt attention. . "You named your printer." His tone picked up on some of the dryness it usually had, his eyebrows lifting just slightly. His head tilted as he watched Raegan, then glanced at the printer, then returned his gaze to her. He followed her further still, carefully putting each of these little facts in the folder in his mind for her. That was one of the only ones left untouched by the panic. Maybe the panic was too scared of what he'd do to it if it tarnished her words. His gaze turned to the center, a small smile cracking his face. "Makes full sense." He agreed lowly, his gaze dipping down to the floor for a moment as he dragged together more energy and continued, focusing every thought on her. If he could. He couldn't, but he tried. . His eyes met the photos, searching, landing on her in the reindeer headband, grinning manically while holding a tray of what he could tell were cursed cookies. This alone brightened his day, a small snort of amusement escaping. "I'll look forward to the day I get to try your cookies that may kill me." He said cheerfully, then his whole demeanor shifted and dulled. Well, he may not get to look forward to that day for long. Her cookies wouldn't have a chance to kill him before the disease did. He would rather be killed by cookies. . He gathered up the pieces of his shattered sanity and forced himself forward again, turning now to the coffee machine. This seemed like the best thing in the hospital, so far. "The stronger the better, I guess. As long as it doesn't melt its way through your stomach." He commented with the slightest of a smirk, nodding a little at her words. He didn't speak as she poured herself another cup of coffee, probably to help her deal with his shittiness. Did it even matter what people thought anymore? Wouldn't it be ironic if he got killed before the disease got to him. Or funny. Maybe ironic wasn't the right word. He wasn't sure anymore. . "Good system." He murmured in an off hand manner, not distracted but not there. His gaze was slipping, despite how much he tried to keep it on her and what she was showing him. He was rock climbing without arms. "It does look very good. Amazing organizing skills." A faint smile crossed his lips, one that was just happy yet tired. He was happy that she was prideful of this, happy that she was happy, but it was hard. Emotions were hard. . When they reached the office, he slowly scanned the area, forcefully dragging his eyes across each thing as he took it all on. It all looked like... her. Cozy, not too messy, but disorganized enough to look homey. The postcards, photos, and drawings were his favorite part of the room. So many important things. Right there. He obeyed her command without a word, sitting slowly in the chair like the movement physically hurt. It didn't. He just mentally hurt so much it felt physical at this point. . He had zoned out again, completely missing her last words, his whole being radiating sorrow, pain, regret, all the bad emotions. He didn't know if he could hold it in any longer, and she would only keep getting more worried. Keep trying to cheer him up and failing. He had ran out of energy. He couldn't force a smile anymore. He was trying. It wasn't working. He felt like a dry tank. Someone was trying to start the engine with no fuel and it was slowly ruining it, crank by crank. Every one of her smiles felt like someone pouring water in, which was an attempt to fix the problem but only made it so much worse. Every time she smiled he wanted to say something funny, to return it, to at least look happy, but he couldn't, and he hated it. He hated knowing he was showing every emotion on his face and he hated knowing how she must feel. He hoped she didn't think it was something she did. He hated the fact that he had to be one of the stupid people with this disease and he hated that it came so early. . Axl knew this was too much. His mind was overloading, his brain dying, gasping, blood rushing, stabbing agony, everything, all at once. He was dying. He was dying. He was never going to see her again. He was dying. He was dying. He - "I'm dying, Raegan." He whispered out of the blue, eyes filling with straight up fear, panic, and pain as he looked at her. "I can't- I tried to shut up- I know this'll just make your life worse and hurt you- I know I'm putting too much weight on your shoulders- I'm so, so sorry-" his voice cracked. "But I can't keep it in any longer. I- I haven't been keeping it in at all. The doctor said I have a rare disease with no cure. No cure." He didn't know why he repeated the words, but he did. His hands trembled as he closed his eyes for a moment. "I'm going to die. I'm not ready to die. I realize that now. They said I have a year at most. A year seemed so long before but now it feels like I might blink and it'll be over. I'm afraid to blink. I'm spiraling. Can I stop? No. No no no." He lifted a hand and cradled his head, letting out a quiet whimper of pure panic. "I feel like I'm going insane. I sound insane. I know I do. I can hear myself speak. It doesn't even feel like myself anymore- like I'm having an out of body experience. I never wanted to be told I was dying. I'd prefer it just happen. What is happening to me?" |
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Raegan had been mid-sentence, halfway through pointing out the ridiculous photograph on her corkboard — the one where she'd convinced the janitor to adopt a stray kitten, stood with him holding the scraggly ginger cat with a bit grin, looking like she'd narrowly escaped arrest — when his words hit her like a sucker punch to the chest. I’m dying, Raegan. She stopped. The smile she’d been wearing fell so fast she almost felt dizzy from the drop. The room didn’t get quieter — she could still hear the low hum of the printer and the soft hiss of the coffee machine — but every other sound became meaningless noise, far away and irrelevant. She’d heard those words before. She’d sat across from patients who said them, held their hands, explained the odds. But she’d always been on the other side of that moment — the one delivering the bad news, not standing here with her heart caught in her throat. And never, never had they come from him. Not from someone she’d just gotten back in her life, not from someone she hadn’t even had enough time with yet. It was cruel. It was wrong. It was the kind of twist that made the universe feel personal in its cruelty. Her mouth went dry. She blinked hard once, forcing her hands to set her coffee down before it spilled, and n a split moment moved around the desk next to him, closer. He looked… lost. Not the kind of lost where you’ve taken a wrong turn and just need a street sign, but the kind where you’re standing in the middle of a collapsing building and can’t find a door. She reached for his shoulders, her fingers light, not trapping him but making sure he knew she was there — real and solid in the chaos. “Axl…” Her voice wasn’t steady. She made it sound like it was, but it wasn’t. She could feel the tiny tremor in it, the weight pressing against her ribs. “What’s wrong?” It wasn’t rhetorical. She needed him to tell her everything. The words, the diagnosis, the symptoms, the nights he’d been holding this alone. She studied his face, his breathing, the tremor in his hands. “Please. Tell me.” And he did. Every word felt like it carved a new line into her, and she wanted — God, she wanted — to say something to fix it, to catch him before he fell any further. But she didn’t interrupt. She let him spill everything, because right now stopping him would be like damming a river mid-flood — it would just break somewhere else. When he said “no cure,” she swallowed the instinct to argue, to promise things she didn’t know she could deliver. She’d learned long ago that false hope could hurt worse than the truth. But that didn’t mean she believed him entirely. Not yet. Not when she hadn’t seen the scans, read the charts, combed every damn journal for something — anything — that could be done. When he stopped, the silence between them was thick and sharp. She stayed where she was, her hands still on his shoulders. “You’re allowed to feel like this,” she said softly, her voice just barely shaking now. “You’re allowed to be scared. To feel like you’re… unraveling. That doesn’t make you weak, Axl. It makes you human.” She felt the sting in her eyes, the first warning signs that she was going to lose the battle with her own tears. She lowered herself so their eyes were level, close enough that he’d have to see her, not the swirl of panic in his own mind. “Right now, you are not a diagnosis. You’re not a countdown. You’re here.” Her voice hitched, and she took a careful breath, holding herself together because she could not — would not — shatter in front of him. “With me.” She matched his breathing, slow and steady, showing him without words that she was still here, still anchored. “I will walk into every appointment with you,” she said, and now her eyes were wet. She didn’t blink them away — she let him see them. “I’ll talk to every specialist. I’ll read every study. I don’t care if I have to camp in the hospital lobby, I am not letting you go without a fight.” Her throat tightened hard and she forced herself to keep speaking. “You just came back into my life, Axl. And I’m not… I’m not ready to lose you again.” One tear escaped before she could stop it, sliding warm down her cheek. She gave his shoulder the faintest squeeze. “If it gets too heavy, you tell me. I’ll carry it. And if you spiral, you call me. I don’t care what time it is.” Her voice broke for the first time, just slightly, but she pushed through. “We’re going to take whatever time you’ve got and make it yours. And you’re not going to spend it drowning in ‘what ifs.’ You’re going to spend it... here. With me. We'll do anything you want. Nothing is too much. If you want to... I dunno, camp out in the appalachian mountains for three weeks, I'll be there with you. You're not alone." |
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Axl glanced up to watch her reaction, needing to know how big of a mistake he just made. This seemed like it would just hurt her more, but he knew not telling her would be worse. Plus he was terrible at pretending and hiding things. He watched as her smile disappeared like a sack of bricks dropping into the ocean. He hated to be the one to take away that smile. He watched as disbelief, maybe panic, spread across her expression. He watched as her breath caught in her throat, probably failing to get around the glob of information he just shoved to her. Everything felt so wrong, so off, so distant. This was someone worse than receiving the news. Now that he had had his chance to spiral, he was now focused on her. Because she was more important than anyone in his life, including him. . He knew it should be easier now, knew he would have someone by his side helping him through everything, trying to find a cure, trying to save him. Yet it felt worse at the same time. He would try to carry the whole burden, but he literally just dropped some of it onto her. He never wanted her to have to hold more, and yet here he was... giving her more to hold. He flinched just slightly as she touched his shoulders, surprised at first because he hadn't seen her even move, but quickly it became a slight bit of relief. Maybe he wasn't completely lost. Maybe there was an island somewhere in the storm that he could rest on for a couple moments. . He could tell that the more he fell, the more he continued, the more it hurt her, which meant it hurt him. Yet he couldn't seem to stop, the pain sharp again his mind as it forced him to spill everything. Well, almost everything. He could yell that when he said there was no cure, she didn't believe a single word he was saying, but he was only reiterating what the doctor had said. He didn't know if they could find a cure or not. However, he knew that finding a cure in less than a year, not knowing when in that year they would perish- well, that seemed pretty damn impossible to him. . When everything was finally gone, when he finally went from full of a torrent of thoughts and emotions to empty and broken again, he let out a shuddering breath, closing his eyes for a moment to listen to her words, head down. He just needed... a moment, apparently. He didn't want to feel like this, but he was definitely unraveling. And, to be fair, he was scared. Scared that he wouldn't get to live his life anymore, scared that his days with her were limited. . He glanced up when he felt her crouching down, his eyes more quiet and dark and soft. He hadn't given up, no, but he felt much more drained than before. Her words felt like they should've been uplifting, but all he could think about was that he might not be here for long. He was a walking countdown. Everytime he developed a headache he'd be worried he was dying. Hell, he had a headache right now. The last two words did bring him back to reality a little. He wasn't just floating in the 'here'. He was in a specific place, with her, talking to her, and supposed to be enjoying what time he had left with her. He should be able to do that, shouldn't he? . His whole heart felt like it was being violently crushed when he saw her eyes shimmer just slightly, unshed tears harboring there. He wanted to whisper that he was sorry, to wipe them away, to do something. He didn't want to hurt her. To make her cry. Apparently, this talk had calmed him down enough that the logical part of his mind was peeking through, and his eyebrows drew together just slightly. "I don't want you to stop your life for me. You have work. A family. I just thought you deserved to know." He mused quietly. . He was stopped dead in his tracks by the tear that rolled down her cheek, pain shooting through his chest. He could see the burden and he wanted to take it back. To reverse the damage he had done. To make it so she wasn't trying to make all the time for him. To know she wouldn't stay up late at night reading through old textbooks trying to find a cure no one says was there. . He watched her for a long couple moments, absorbing every word quietly. "... Raegan, you cannot throw away everything for this." He sighed quietly, took in a breath, and continued. "I would appreciate any and all time you give me, but you cannot give me all your time. You still have a life to live. On that note, I would not drag you into the mountains for three weeks, but we might try a movie night or two more." He smiled wearily, tired but there. Real. Not a fake forced grimance anymore. "You don't know how much this means to me. Thank you." He finally added, filling his mind with her words so that nothing else could get in. It was a comfy barrier in between him and the void. . It was just then that loud noises started coming from the receptionist area. One rose louder than the others, sounding distinctly angry. Axl paused for half a second before standing and poking his head out into the hall- and he was almost decapitated as a person strode past, then screeched to a halt and wheeled. It was Konig. "Wha...." Axl stared at him in literal disbelief for a couple good seconds before the other walked forward and shoved him into the room. Konig's narrow gaze landed on Raegan for a moment, a quiet scoff erupting before he looked back at Axl. "You motherfucking son of a bitch. How dare you sign those papers if you were going to DIE. I'm going to have to find someone else to give the company to!" Konig snapped, his fury filling the space like a palpable substance. Axl blinked. Well that really did bring him back to earth. Naturally his father knew and the first thing they worried about was the company. So this was a normal day. "How did you find out." He asked lowly, his voice quiet in the midst of the anger radiating from his father. Konig glared at him. "Your doctor knew who you were and called me. Of course I had to hear it from them. Leave it to my own son to go to some... some woman and not tell me." Axl's eyes narrowed a twitch. "Don't talk to her like this. This is between you and me. What is your purpose for storming in a Blue Ridge hospital, making everyone wildly upset, and ruining my day more than any news could?" He asked stiffly. "My purpose? Damn it, I want my company back. Out of your dying little grip." Konig snapped. "You tricked me, you little shit." Axl rubbed his temple. "I learned after I signed the paperwork, Konig." He said slowly. "And can we please take this outside? I am not a fan of everyone in the entire hospital hearing you screaming like a decapitated banshee." The other man scowled, his almost black eyes narrowed to slits. "Why would I listen to you, boy. I raised you. Now you're going to come to the office and give me my company back, do you understand?" Axl tilted his head just slightly. "Actually, how about this. I keep the company and completely destroy it, then tarnish its name on the news?" He offered, smiling slightly. "Does that sound like an agreement?" You could visibly see all of the blood drain from Konig's face, his fists literally cracking with how hard he was clenching them. His knuckles turned white, his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. "You wouldn't." "I would. I've been planning to for years, my darling father. Now, do you have something worth saying or will you leave this place and never return?" He asked, the only sign of the effect this had on him being how he leaned against the wall slightly instead of standing right in front of Konig. The other man opened and closed his mouth, stopped, shifted forward, then his eyes lit up with pure evil malice. "Well if you're going to do that... I guess I can't give you the cure now, can I?" He mused, fixing the tie on his suit as he smiled. It wasn't anything like Axl's... no, it was sharp, dangerous, venomous. He froze in his boots, eyes widening slightly as he stared at them. "You're lying." He finally managed to squeeze out, his throat trying to stop all his breath from escaping. Konig's smile... if you could call it that... grew wider. "Actually, I'm not. You see, this particular disease is a specific werewolf disease that has only been found running in the Jager family. My parents died of it, both my siblings died of it, and I'm pretty sure my great aunt died of it. There is a cure, however. I had the disease as well, when I was around your age. Look at me. I'm still walking, aren't I?" "Sadly." Axl mumbled under his breath, his gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. He didn't believe Konig. Not really. But he had seen family records. Konig had had two siblings. They both had died at around ages he was at. His grandparents had died, a little older. In their 40s. All so young, though. It didn't make sense. Unless what Konig was saying was... true. His gaze snapped up. "If you give me the cure, I'll promise not to ruin Jager Industries." The one thing he could offer his father that the man cared enough about. Konig's smile grew wider. "It seems we have a deal. Write this down." He then slowly named four normal ish things and two things that were werewolf specific, before pausing. "Oh, and Axl? I never said it'd work for you. The last ingredient is blood and tears from someone you love more than a friend. For reference, my cure only worked when I used your mother's. Good day, and be in tomorrow to sign the papers." His smile grew wicked as he glanced at Raegan and left. "Oh shit." Was all Axl could say as he deflated like a balloon, leaning more heavily against the wall as soon as Konig was gone. "Ohhh fucking good lord." A bubble of a laugh rose in his chest as he rested his head against the wall. "I should've known, honestly. Hope is worse than despair. With despair there might be hope, but if you hand out hope and then say there is no hope... kind of kills the mood." |
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Raegan’s throat felt tight, like every muscle there had locked up all at once. His words sat in her chest like a stone, heavy and cold, but some part of her refused to fully process them — because to really understand meant accepting an ending she wasn’t ready for. Her hands stayed on his shoulders, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his shirt as if holding on could somehow anchor him here. She’d given bad news a thousand times — told families their loved one wouldn’t wake up, told parents there was nothing more to be done — but she’d never been the one on the other side of it. And she had never had to hear something like this from him. Not when he’d only just come back into her life, when she was still relearning the way he spoke, still filing away the crooked edge of his smile in the parts of her brain she didn’t want to lose. For a moment, she wanted to forget every bit of professionalism she’d ever built, to wrap her arms around him and hold on until both their hearts steadied. But she didn’t. She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stand steady, even as her chest ached with a pressure that wouldn’t ease. Her eyes burned, and she fought to keep her voice even. “Axl…” she said quietly, shaking her head, almost in disbelief. “You don’t get to tell me something like that and then follow it up with ‘don’t stop your life.’” Her tone was soft, but there was weight beneath it — not anger at him, but defiance at the idea that she should accept his fate without even trying to fight it. Her gaze searched his face, memorizing it, because a terrifying part of her mind whispered that she might not have much time to keep it fresh in her memory. She hated the way his voice had gone quieter, the way he wouldn’t quite meet her eyes — like he was already starting to put distance between them. “Do you honestly think I can just… go back to work after this? Act like nothing’s happened? I just got you back, Axl.” Her voice caught briefly, and she forced a slow, deliberate breath. “…and now you’re telling me I might lose you again?” A tear escaped despite her best effort, sliding warm against her cheek. She brushed it away quickly. She wasn’t going to pretend this didn’t hurt. She wasn’t going to hide the fact that hearing this from him was cutting her deeper than anything she’d heard in a long time. “I know you think this is some kind of burden I shouldn’t carry,” she said, her voice tight, “but you’re already part of my life. That’s not something I can switch off, Axl. And if there’s even the smallest chance… I’m going to take it. I don’t care how impossible it looks.” She let her hand shift slightly, not a lingering touch, just a brief, grounding pressure on his shoulder. “You can’t tell me not to try. And if all we get are stupid movie nights and quiet afternoons, then I’ll be there for every single one. Because you’re my friend, and you matter. More than you think you do.” Her lips curved in a small, uneven smile at his last words, though her eyes were still glassy. “You don’t need to thank me for this,” she murmured. “This is just… what you do for the people who matter to you.” Another tear threatened, but she straightened her spine slightly, pushing the ache back as best she could. “So… yeah. Movie night. And maybe, when you feel up to it, you’ll let me show you the best parts of this place. But right now… right now you’re here. And that’s enough for-” She was rather suddenly cut off. Raegan didn’t move. Not when the angry voice cut through the hall, not when a stranger nearly clipped Axl’s head off, not when the weight of the man’s presence filled the room like a cold wind through a cracked window. Her feet rooted to the spot beside Axl, as if some unspoken part of her knew she couldn’t — wouldn’t — leave his side for whatever this was. Konig’s arrival was… jarring. She’d barely processed his first words before the barrage started, accusations and curses hurled with enough venom to make her skin prickle. She felt herself go still, her hands curling slightly at her sides, watching the exchange as if through glass. She was used to loud voices in tense rooms — used to sitting between people whose worlds were falling apart — but this was different. This was his father. This was someone who, in the same breath, could call him his son and spit on him like he was nothing. Every instinct in her screamed to intervene, to step between them, to tell this man exactly where he could shove his “company” — but she didn’t. Axl’s voice was steady enough, his words sharp enough, and she knew better than to add fuel to an already raging fire. Still, she kept her gaze flicking between them, tracking every shift in Axl’s posture, every muscle twitch in his jaw. She needed to read him. She needed to know if this was pushing him further toward breaking. Her pulse kicked up when the conversation twisted. “The cure.” The words hit her like a snap of cold. She blinked, her chest tightening. For a second she forgot to breathe. She didn’t even understand the full scope of what Konig was saying — some family disease, some impossible mix of ingredients — but the idea of there being a cure dangled in the air like a match over dry kindling. She could feel the tension in Axl spike beside her, the air shift as his disbelief warred with… something else. Raegan stood perfectly still, her shoulders locked, her face a mask of professional neutrality that cost her everything to hold. She was afraid if she let even one expression slip, it would all come tumbling out — the outrage at the way Konig wielded hope like a weapon, the desperate want to believe this wasn’t just another cruel trick, the raw ache in her chest watching Axl try to bargain with a man who clearly delighted in tormenting him. And then Konig said it. The “last ingredient.” Her stomach dropped so sharply she thought she might actually sway on her feet. Blood from someone you love more than a friend. His gaze slid to her like a blade. She didn’t flinch, but inside her head there was a rush of, confusion, dread — an unspoken awareness of the weight Konig had just shoved into the space between them. She kept her breathing slow, her eyes trained on the floor for just a heartbeat before looking back at Axl, searching his face for what he was feeling. When Konig finally left, the air felt thinner. Lighter in the worst way — like a storm had ripped through and left everything scattered. Raegan’s fingers itched to reach for Axl, but she didn’t. Not yet. She stayed there, quiet, watching him sag against the wall, listening to the brittle humor in his laugh, her own chest still tight. She wanted to ask him a hundred questions. She wanted to scream. She wanted to do something. But for now, she stayed frozen at his side, her mind running in loops: What if it’s true? What if it’s not? And how the hell am I supposed to stand here and watch him weigh hope against despair? How was he supposed to find that? He had a year. He’d been given hope just for it to be ripped from him. Axl, seemed to try and make a joke, which was nothing but a good thing as far as she was concerned. “Looks like we need to sign you up for some dating apps,” she hummed in a slightly amused manner, although it just seemed dampened by... everything, she supposed. |
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Axl was more than ready to go back in time, take it back, and just go curl up in a little ball on his couch and wish he had a pet, but he couldn't do that. There was no time machine that he could pay for to help him with that, no possible way to get back no matter how much time and money he was willing to spend. His gaze lifted slowly to hers as she started speaking, his whole being quiet and withdrawn. "I don't want you to sacrifice and ruin the next year of your life for me." He sighed Wip |
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Hot and Humid
