War of Change
Set 1 year ago. Donald bought a house and has issues settling in. @daisygoeslive is there to help.
TW: PTSD, Panic Attacks
Donald had scrambled out of bed, grabbed the knife he kept under his pillow and slid into the first door he saw. He’d managed to grab his phone along the way off the bedside table as he took stock of his surroundings. His breathing was coming out in uneven pants, as he scanned the room from what he now realized was a closet. He kept the door almost closed managing to look through the crack and clutching the knife in hand. Looking around, it was obviously a bedroom, though he didn’t recognize it. Where was he? How had he ended up here?
Thoughts racing he could feel himself getting even more frantic in breathing. It felt like he was suffocating, glancing down between the knife and phone he weighed his options. With one hand he barely managed to set up a video call still struggling with his breathing. It felt like an eternity staring at the loading screen and a small dark square in the corner. The lack of light in the closet made him look half shadowed only being lit by the phone itself.
“There better be a good reason you’re calling at 3 in the am,” a groggy and annoyed voice mumbled, “Seriously, some of us actually take our education seriously.”
He wanted to make a snide remark at her but no words came out. His fist tightened on the knife as he struggled to get anything out. A few gasps slit out as his phone hand shook, unable to speak clearly, and he was still not getting enough oxygen it felt like.
“Donald?” Daisy questioned voice switching to one of concern, “Hey, what’s going?”
He wanted to answer her, no he needed to answer but words weren’t coming out. Why couldn’t he talk? For a minute he felt like he was sinking, like he was drowning, which wasn’t a pleasant memory. Was he going to die? In some random fucking closet of all places? Wouldn’t that be the joke of the century he thought bitterly.
“Donnie! Hey look at me...please,” his eyes jerked open, when had he closed them? Staring at the screen he could now clearly see her, and himself looking pale and ghastly in the corner thanks to the phone lighting. Her mouth was set in a firm line but her eyes were full of concern and maybe a little bit of fear.
Daisy never talked to him in a soft voice, not unless it was bad. But she was now when she went through checks with him. He saw the twitch in her lips when he mentioned having a knife. It was a temporary safety blanket, he hated to admit how he missed having a gun when he first came back from the Navy. Those he had in a safe, only taken out for the gun range, reserve training, or hunting. Even a year later and he still didn’t feel completely at ease without some time of weapon close by.
“I don’t...I don’t know where I am,” he grumbled once she helped him get his breathing back on track, “I’m not at Tito’s or Minka’s...or yours obviously, and this ain’t Scrooge’s big ass house...I don’t..I.” Trailing off he took a shuddering breath trying to keep himself from spiraling again.
“Do you remember what we finished doing today?” she asked still in that same soft voice she only used with him.
He shook his head before realizing she couldn’t see him, “No..”
“We got the last of your boxes from your apartment, you’re in the new house now. That’s your room, now. There’s a lamp on your bedside table, the bottom of it is a boat.”
He took a peak from the closet and sure enough there was the lamp exactly as she described. With her encouragement he slowly crawled out, one hand clutching the phone and the other on his knife. Moving to stand he glanced around the room with Daisy pointing out things to remind him of how they had decorated his room. It was something that helped to ground him, knowing exactly what his space looked like. That and he trusted her, if she told him this was his room, then he believed it.
Making his way to the bed he sat down setting the knife on the bedside table. It was slowly coming back to him now that he was more calm. He wanted a bigger place to be able to have his cousins over than his cramped apartment. Scrooge had offered to buy him a house, but Donald had turned him down. Over the last year he had rebonded with his family but he still wanted to have control over his life. Which was why he took out a loan with the Navy and bought a house, a 3 bed 2.5 bath. It was a simple two story, but it was all his and he’d have plenty of room to let his 3 younger cousins run amok in it. He was planning on remodeling the basement to turn it into a hangout for them and also a place where the three could crash and sleep.
“How are you feeling,” Daisy asked, bringing him back to the present.
“Like I got hit by a truck,” he replied opting for honesty.
“You should sleep, you don’t have class until 10 so you can get a bit more now.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“Lay down, I got a paper on the impact of the printing press on American schooling, I can read you.”
Laying down he propped his phone up so he could see her watching as she grabbed her laptop and set her own phone up. As she read he could feel his eyes growing heavy and yawned, it wasn’t the first time she’d read or stayed up to help him. In the past he would have fought her, but now, now he appreciated it for what it was.
“I love you,” he mumbled as he could feel himself struggling to stay awake.
“I love you too, sleep,” she ordered firmly. And he did.











