cw: disassociating, maybe absence seizures. very brief, very light, soft but interrupted smut. Hurt/comfort. TBI. soap x reader. (Another Whumpee!Soap piece what can I say. He is my muse.)
Johnny and his post-tbi disassociation, the distances and absences you've become familiar with.
How his smile fades at the dinner table, eyes drifting away to some distant place. His hands just... pausing over the dirt while you're both in the garden.
At first it broke your heart. The doctors had said 'be patient' but no one had explained what that meant.
No one had explained it would mean conversations stopping for minutes on end. No one had explained it would mean taking sharp objects from his hands just in case he forgot they were there. No one had said how much it would hurt to see your Johnny come back from wherever he goes and tears spring in his eyes. Scared, or lost, or angry. Or wherever it took him that moment.
You learn, slowly, that the best thing to do is wait. Sometimes you keep talking, gently. Sometimes you sit in silence with him. Sometimes you keep your hand steadily brushing through his hair—he'd started letting only you care for it since coming home from the hospital, slow nights spent cleaning around the bandages turned into your little routine. Sometimes just a hand over his, something to hold onto when he surfaces again.
Mostly though, it's become just... a part of your days. His and yours. They frustrate him still, but mostly it's better. It's okay.
That is until he's panting over you, lips pressed to your neck as he moves slowly. Hips thrusting between your legs, trying to bury himself and stay there forever where it's warm and safe.
And he pulls back to smile down at you. And you see it long before it happens. The gloss washing over. Bright blue eyes greying over.
And Johnny just.. stills.
"Johnny..." You manage, hand coming up to cup his face.
He's still for a long moment. Longer than usual by your count.
Your eyes sting before you can stop them. Hand brushing back Johnny's hair. The other stroking absently over his arm.
"John..." You try again, throat squeezing down around his name.
And finally he inhales. Blinking back to you. His eyes find yours. And that familiar realization passes through them. His forehead drops to your shoulder. He doesn't move for a moment.
"I'm sorry, Love. I'm so sorry—"
You feel him shift, like he's going to move to get up. You wrap your arms around him, holding him close.
"Shh don't apologize. Are you alright?"
He manages a nod.
"Want to keep going?"
He's still for a moment. His breath is warm, shakey against your chest.
Finally, he shakes his head.
"Alright," you whisper. "That's alright."
He moves slowly out from between your legs. Only moving as far as to lie next to you, head still buried in your neck.
You lie there for a little while, just breathing together. His weight against your side something solid to hold onto.
Your hand moves through his hair, slow and steady. The other rests against his arm.
His tears come gradually. He doesn't make a sound, just the wet against your skin, and the occasional unsteady breath.
At some point his grip on you shifts. Tightens, his fingers finding yours and holding.
You feel the moment his breathing evens out. A slow exhale. The tension leaving his shoulders by degrees.
You press your lips to his hair.
"Bath or shower?"
He breathes. Then, quietly: "Bath."
You ease yourself up and pad to the bathroom, running it warm. Not hot, he'd told you once, early on, that too much heat made it worse.
When you come back for him he's sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. Staring at the floor. You can see the wet at the corners of his eyes he's still trying to hold back.
You stand in front of him and open your arms. He folds into you without a word, face pressing into your stomach. His shoulders shake.
You hold him and let him cry into you. Your own tears dripping from your cheeks to his head.
It takes a moment. Moving slowly from the bed to the filled tub. But eventually, you're both in the water. His back to your chest, your chin resting on his shoulder. His hands have found yours beneath the surface and he's holding on with both of his.
"Still here," you murmur.
His grip tightens.
You press your lips to his cheek. The corner of his jaw. The soft skin just below his ear. And then longer on the back of his neck.
"Love you," he says, voice rough and quiet.
"I know." You hook your chin on his shoulder again. "Love you too, Johnny."
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Prompt:The express trio reacting and dealing with a reader that disassociates heavily
TW:Disassociation,numbness,helplessness, existential dread,mental health issues,angst
Caelus:
Caelus is loud,he’s emotional,he cries,screams,yells,reacts.That’s how he deals with things,an explosive burst of emotion.So looking at you,sat so still,so unresponsive as if you aren’t even there.It unsettles him to a very personal degree,because you see all the bravado the dramatic act the speeches is for him to hide ugly feelings of emptiness.The silence after a fight,the silence after he was brought to this world and the silence of the boundless empty universe that surrounds him.And your complete disconnection from your environment your own self confronts him with his own facade.
Caelus wants to help,he really does!He asks Welt for advice,asks Himeko on how to handle such situations,keeps pestering Dan Hang for all and any information in the archives about disassociation,makes March do mock scenarios with him so he can practice how to respond with each session he grows more and more confident right until he faces you again.
He freezes,he can’t meet your eyes,they’re so empty where are you?Caelus thinks to himself,it’s almost like you’re an outline on the background of the express.He’s stuck and out of all the crew the one who finally gets through to him is Black Swan.She offers Caelus to let him look through your memorise to find what caused you to shut off like this and destroy it.
And though hesitant at first,mulling over the morality of it all he took the offer.It felt like his usual adventures into another planet,a hero’s tale.Crushed,when they both entered your mind and found…nothing.No memories which directly caused or can be linked to,how?HOW?He thinks to himself as a wave of desperation washes over him,than Black Swan speaks.
“The mind shuts itself off whenever it faces a danger that it cannot flee or fight against,but the body remembers and when it’s triggered the mind protects itself.Fascinating yet quite tragic for our friend,truth is their conscious mind has already forgotten,everything else is still on high alert.”
There’s nothing he can do.No grand journey no task or heroic act.And for the first time he lets himself feel the helplessness he buried deep within him.Doesn’t do anything else besides sitting with it and finally he begins to understand.A little at least and now he is more patient,more calm as he sits beside you for support.
Because at the end of the day Caelus wants to help you.
March 7th
March tries to be kind and patient,whenever you disassociate she takes you to her room sits you on her bed and just begins talking to you.Hoping to reach you,March isn’t familiar with or does she really know what to do in this cases but she still tries her best to help you.
But she ends up not really being able to provide any substantial help.She stares at your expressionless face as you lay down on her bed unmoving except for your breathing.More than disturbed she’s sorry,sorry that your mind decided that to protect itself it’s better to shut everything out to endure.
More than pity she understands,it’s almost like seeing herself lying down on her bed.After all she herself is fractured in memories and identities and the discomfort of seeing yourself from outside yourself.
She doesn’t attempt to rid you of the disassociation or try to cure you,instead March provides a safe space.After all she actually doesn’t think it’s that bad of a thing,it’s an impractical reaction but one which provides safety in a way to minimise pain the best so why not just let you stay.In her room till it slowly dissipates and you return into yourself.
She’s a safe space to be,not to grow.Her own mental blocks don’t allow her to truly be the help that you need because than she’d have to admit her own problems and have to reconcile a murky past of her own which she so desperately wants to move on from and be left to exist a new as she is now without it looming over her.
Because uncovering to past is like looking at yourself from the outside and it’s so painful.March thinks to herself while gently raking her fingers through your hair.
Dan Heng
Out of the three Dan Heng is the most knowledgeable and calmest.He’s a pragmatist and tackles your situation efficiently and practically.Whenever you disassociate he deduces the trigger and removes you from it,sits you down somewhere comfortable and prompts you to do something,anything,a useless repetitive task like writing the same number on paper over and over.
And the whole time he’s repeatedly touching your arm with firm pressure and talking to you,asking clearly and firmly repeated questions till you answer.And when you do he makes you both walk together the same route up and down the halls of the express till you’re back.
Dan Heng also looks more deeply into dissociative identity disorder,depersonalisation and derealization.If your episodes of dissociation are severe he looks into medication for anxiety and depression as there is no true cure for you.On a physical level he’s very helpful.
But on an emotional one the usual reclusive member of the express is extremely feeling.He understands to a degree as when he was forcefully reborn and hatched early the disconnection between his mind and new body was immense only made worse by the memories and influence of Dan Feng furthering that cognitive dissonance.Which causes him great nightmares and night terrors to this day.
He understands and feels for you but doesn’t show his pity,after all you’re still alive as is he.And tho he knows living with such an affliction is a annoyance at best and a burden at worst you’re not dead and simply because you experience this doesn’t mean you’re doomed and there is still much to be found in the moments when you’re in yourself rather to be defined by when you’re not.
It’s very uncharacteristicly sappy of him to care in such a way at first glance,but in truth he’s always cared and loved deeply even when that haunted him…
Author’s note:This is definitely not a vent piece inspired by my own experiences,no why would you ask that 🫠
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i think both shane and ilya dissasociated through sex at different times in their lives and they both understood this to be Just How Sex Goes Sometimes (in shane's case, That's How Sex Goes With Women: you go Empty and float a little and then you try to come and make the other person come through the fuzz and then that's Sex!) and it's not until he mentions it to galina in therapy that this knowledge gets trickled down through the hollanov household
