GhostCheese

+

I haven't written 2bhank in so long, this was fun

-

It's too loud in here.

There isn't a placeable sound in the room, but Hank can hear the sound of his own pulse with his head pressed against the pillow, and it's unbearable. He tries rolling onto his back, and is quickly reminded of the burn beneath his shoulder blades. No reason to even bother with the other side.

Without any much consideration for the other person in the bed, he kicks the sheets off and peels himself off the mattress.

It doesn't help.

The loudness follows him out of the room and down the hall, silent to the world but thundering in his skull like war drums marching just beyond the horizon. Loud in a way that never leaves.

It's here to stay.

It speaks of danger. Of threats lurking on the other side of these concrete walls. Monsters in the dark.

He is the monster. Has to be. If he isn't, something else will be. They have to be crushed.

"Hank."

The world cuts through the silence like a blade. Startles its target enough for his gaze to leave the window.

Doc is to his right.

Back to the window.

Nothing outside.

Warmth at his bicep. Doc's head against his shoulder.

Nothing outside.

"It's late," Doc says, and it is. But still, Doc is here, watching the horizon. Watching for things that think they're monsters. With him.

Something inside him releases, tension breaking and leaving him with nothing but the cold. Cold concrete under bare feet. Cold air nipping at his bare torso where bandages don't protect him.

The danger is passed.

Doc must notice it too, because his hand slips into Hank's, inviting but never pulling, and Hank follows like it's second nature.

It is.

Back into the warmth of the room.

Back into the silence.

Doc lays down first and Hank slots himself into open, waiting arms.

They don't talk. They never talk when they're close like this. Words could damage something so fragile.

But it's warm. And it's quiet. And most of all, it's safe.