#caretaker

Leo cracks an eye open and the fluorescent lights overhead immediately make him want to close it again. A muted wave of panic cuts through his chest at the sight of his left arm in plaster. That’ll mean being half as useful at work for God knows how long. The cast runs up over his elbow and his fingers sticking out the other end are wrapped in gauze of their own. At least he can move them, blood-ringed fingernails twitching. 

At least his right side— 

Aiden. 

God, who called him? There is no situation that warrants dragging that poor kid into a hospital. Ever. 

He’s sitting in a chair by the curtain that separates Leo from the next patient. Back ramrod straight and knees pulled up to his chest, somehow managing to fit even the toes of his shoes on the plastic seat in front of him from how tightly he’s curled in on himself. He looks hollowed out, trying to disappear. 

A doctor in a white coat rushes past the seam in the curtains at the foot of the bed and Aiden tenses like any minute one of them will tear him out of his chair. His eyes are rimmed with red. 

“Hey, buddy.” 

Aiden jumps, gaze snapping to Leo’s only after he checks that no one has materialized on the other side of the curtain to snatch him. Once he determines the coast is clear, he hurries to close the short distance between them and hover at Leo’s side. 

“Are you—Is…uhm—” 

Another doctor or nurse walks by and Aiden stiffens, glancing back to the gap in the curtains. 

“Hey, look at me.” Leo holds out his good hand and Aiden latches onto it with both of his. His eyes fill and he bites his bottom lip to stop it from trembling. 

Leo resists the urge to demand he name whoever told him to come here. And the subsequent urge to send Aiden packing. Back to the house, back to the version of himself that looks at home most places. He hasn’t looked this haunted in months. Months and months. Leo hates to imagine how many fears and triggers he had to face head on to make it this far, to be sitting at Leo’s bedside. 

“I’m okay,” Leo tells him, squeezing his hands tight. “A little banged up but I’ll be fine. Yeah?” 

Aiden nods, eyes tracing Leo’s face. They settle above his left eyebrow, sticking there long enough that Leo slips his hand free to feel for himself. There’s a bandage, a rough line of stitches raised beneath it. He doesn’t need a mirror to imagine what the rest of his face looks like on that side, Aiden’s crumpling expression tells him it’s bad enough. 

The poor kid lifts a shaking, sleeve-hidden hand to cover his mouth, turning his head away to hide the fact that he’s crying now. Toward the seam in the curtain because he still has to glance that way every few seconds. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He reaches for Aiden again and this time pulls him down into a one armed hug, ignoring the pinch of the IVs in his arm. Aiden folds over the railing of the bed like he’s boneless to collapse onto Leo’s chest. He muffles a shuddering, wrecked sob against Leo’s shoulder. 

“What if— you could’ve—” He clutches fistfuls of Leo’s hospital gown, can’t even finish voicing the thought and Leo doesn’t want him to. 

“Shhh. Baby, I’m right here.” 

Aiden only sobs again at that so Leo tugs him closer until Aiden concedes and climbs into the bed next to him. The gangly kid tucks his limbs close, trying to make himself as small as possible, and it tugs at Leo’s chest. He can’t remember the last time they did this. Nowadays, an arm around his shoulders on the couch after a frustrating day or a tight hug after a sleepless night is enough to settle him. Leo presses a chaste kiss against the crown of Aiden’s head, hating that he smells more like the tang of fear than of home but he’s already calming down. He even closes his eyes, now that he’s bodily against Leo, and Leo can’t help but feel a rush of warmth at being granted something so precious. 

In a show of typical dumpster fire hospital administration, it feels like more than an hour passes where they’re undisturbed. How his sister can work in this system is beyond Leo. 

Aiden has his head tucked down so that he can press his ear to Leo’s ribcage, right above his heart like it’s not enough for him that Leo is awake—holding him no less—and he actually needs the basest evidence that Leo’s right here and alive. 

“What’s your assessment?” he asks, hoping Aiden can hear the lightness in his tone. 

Aiden lifts his head to look at him anyway. “Good. Steady. It doesn’t…hurt?” 

“No, I feel drugged to the gills though.” 

“Fentanyl,” Aiden says seriously, fluently like he practiced it. He pushes himself up and deftly lowers the railing of the bed so he can swing one leg over the side. The seam of his jeans is suddenly fascinating. He picks at it with both hands at his bent knee. Leo rubs his back, waits for whatever he’s gearing up to say. “Your, uhm, ribs are…bruised. Stitches. On your leg. Your head…”

“Did they say anything about the other driver?” 

He shakes his head. “You might uhm, might have, a, an uhm, a concussion.” His fingers curl into fists on his lap. 

“I don’t feel dizzy or anything,” he says, hoping Aiden takes that as a good sign. The kid is still tense under his hand. “Hon, look at me.” 

His eyes are filmed with tears again but his jaw is set like he’s determined not to let them fall this time. 

“How long have you been here?” 

He shrugs but has to break eye contact to keep selling the indifference that only he’s buying. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket and lays it on his thigh to hide the shaking in his hands. “Six hours.” It comes out a whisper. 

Leo swallows an uncomfortable wave of regret. He doesn’t have to ask if Delia’s working. If she wasn’t she would already be here. “Who called you?” 

“Some guy.” He fumbles trying to slide the phone back into his pants pocket and gives up, dropping it into his hoodie instead. “Delia’s uhm, intern. She was…in surgery.” 

“Well—” 

“Your, your—” He swallows in a way that makes Leo want to ask him if his throat is hurting. “—doctor called her first. She didn’t, didn’t want me to come. She…wanted me to wait. At home.”

“You should have.” 

Aiden frowns at him. 

Leo tries to lift his brows and winces when that tugs the mess on the left side of his face. Thankfully, Aiden is back to watching the opening in the curtains. 

“I tried,” Aiden admits in a small voice, like it’s something to be ashamed of and not exactly what Leo would have preferred. “Delia said you were...okay. But. It was…worse. Alone. W-wondering.” 

Fuck. Of course it was. Leo swallows. “I’m proud of you.” 

Aiden rolls his eyes. “Same as…staying?” 

Leo reaches up to tug his earlobe and Aiden scrunches his face up, all the while leaning into Leo’s hand on his jaw. “Yes. It was going to be hard either way so I’m proud of you either way.”  

Aiden feigns a pout that doesn’t reach the warmth in his eyes. He takes Leo’s hand off his face, considers it in both of his. “I—” 

The curtains part and the sight of blue scrubs and a white coat makes Aiden freeze. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Delia says breezily. She levels Leo with a fierce glare. “You.” 

Leo ignores her poor bedside manner and squeezes Aiden’s hand. He’s not breathing. Not even blinking, like his brain hasn’t caught up yet and his body is just hoping to disappear again. 

Delia clues in immediately and shrugs out of her white coat, tossing it over the foot of the bed and coming to stand in front of Aiden. She lays a hand on his arm and he flinches, reanimating to gasp in a sharp breath and squeeze the shit out of Leo’s hand. 

“Aiden?” Delia chases his gaze, looking into one eye and then the other. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” he says, voice wavering unconvincingly. He clears his throat and tries again. “Yes.”

“Good. So I can focus on killing Leo now.”

“I’m gonna need this back for defense.” He pulls at his hand, fingers starting to throb in Aiden’s death grip. 

Aiden lets go immediately, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth. “Ohshit. Sorry.” 

“You’re good.” 

“You on the other hand,” Delia cuts in. “Christ, Leo.” 

“It’s not like it was my fault.”

“You have a responsibility to both of us to be indestructible. Right, Aiden?” 

He nods adamantly. 

Leo grins. The two most important people in his life, gaining up on him. 

Delia huffs a laugh. “Look at that loopy smile. They aren’t messing around with the drugs here, huh? Let me find out when they’ll discharge you.” She ducks her head out of the curtain and asks someone to page Dr. Thompson. He’ll be down when he has time, ma’am. From the sound of it they didn’t even stop. Delia’s expression is soured when she turns around.  

“Oof. Not your kingdom, huh?” Leo teases. Aiden bites his lips together. 

She glares at Leo and roughly pulls her white coat back on, even digging her stethoscope out of the pocket to drape around her neck. It takes a minute of standing in the gap for her to find a new mark. This time she gets a right away, doctor. Apparently, the white coat is symbol enough. Embroidery naming a completely different hospital across town is just an insignificant detail. 

Aiden smirks. 

“That’s more like it,” she says, dropping into the chair. “You should get some rest, Leo.” 

“Right back at you. How long of a shift did you just come off?” 

“Seventeen hours. I got off early though, as soon as I could scrub out.” She stretches her legs in front of her and crosses her ankles. “I’ll be fine with some coffee. Seriously, close your eyes.” 

Aiden gives him an encouraging, if concerned, nod. 

“Fine, just for a minute…”

Unsurprisingly, given how much the ceiling had been spinning, Leo falls asleep right away.

He doesn’t know if Delia’s summons worked with any speed or at all. When he wakes again, there’s a stranger at his bedside and Aiden and Delia are in full crisis mode. 

Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nick-pascal @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings @vivisectophile

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain

@whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @light-me-on-pyre @whumps-and-bumps

@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump

@handsinmotion @arobear @dj-subwoofer @deluxewhump @wildliferehabstudent

He remembered how he used to beg to go to the record store with her. He had just wanted to be close to her, to do what she found fun for once. Looking back on it, she definitely didn't want to bring him. The record store was her safe place, where she could go to be alone. Of course, she would never actually say that. She'd just smile tiredly and agree to take him.

So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from hell? Blue skies from pain?

Why was she always so kind? She should've told him to shove off like older siblings are supposed to. She shouldn't have been forced to take care of children when she was still a child herself.

He tried not to be angry with his parents anymore. They themselves were victims of unimaginable cruelty and needed psychiatric help. But, it was still their choice to do that to her. To force these unreasonable expectations on her.

She had to be the second mother, but she also had to get straight As, she had to go to work, but then give her paycheck to them. And his parents wondered why she got into fights at school, why she was always late to work, why her grades were terrible. They were so stupid, forcing those expectations on her with the constant threat of physical punishment would break anyone.

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?

He remembered the night she finally shattered. When she finally advocated for what she wanted. It shouldn't have been a surprise, Milena had always loved painting, and it's not like her grades were going to get her into a good university. A shudder ran through him thinking about what came next. The yelling, her tears, how their father had held her down while their mother whipped her, her being shoved into the hall closet. But worst of all, was the horrific scream that came from Milena when they burnt all her art. Her portfolio that she had been building for two years, her scrapbooks, the homemade cards she was still working on, the paint by numbers she did when she was bored, all gone.

Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

They let her out of the closet the next day, but she had changed. Her gaze was vacant, dead, and she walked around as if in a daze. Hollow words came out of her mouth, as if they were pre-programmed responses. Their parents thought she was just sulking and of course gave their signature 'it's for your own good' speech. But even they became concerned after a few days.

Hot ashes for trees? Hot air for a cool breeze?

It's crazy to think how much your life can change in a day. How people can just vanish from your life in an instant.... Tears welled in his eyes. Why didn't he protect her? Everytime she got hurt he would close his eyes, only opening them when the damage was done. Fucking Alfred had tried harder to protect her than he had. What use was comfort and sympathy without action? No amount of soothing words could've eased the despair in her heart. His breath hitched as a sob escaped him.

Cold comfort for change? Did you exchange

A walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

But now she was gone forever, lost to time and the world. All that remains of her now are the memories. His regret was meaningless, there was no way to set things right. The dead can't forgive you.

He smiled bitterly, today would've been her 27th birthday. She'd been gone for nearly a decade now. Ten years of tears, anger, and repentance. Ten years of a festering wound that would never heal. Ten years of a change that came too late.....

How I wish, how I wish you were here

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year

He wiped the tears from his eyes and got up, going to the balcony. He looked up at the moon and the bright stars that blanketed the sky. Milena had always said that Vincent Van Gogh was her favorite artist. She loved that he could find and express the wonder of the world in spite of his pain. That's what had inspired her to keep going, to keep believing in something better. She believed that in spite of her pain, there was still wonder and beauty in this world to be found, there was still goodness. He wondered if she found it out there, before she left this world forever.

Silver tears fell from his eyes, "Happy Birthday, Lena," he whispered to the stars. "I love you."

Runnin' over the same old ground, what have we found?

The same old fears, wish you were here

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AN: Taking a little break from WIAN? to write something I've had bouncing in my head for a while. I swear this song came on my Playlist and I immediately had a vision of this fic. This song is actually what got me interested in developing Mimi's family more.

Also yes, I did write a (diagetic) songfic in 2026. Sue me.