Malfunction
A little treat! I wrote this for an assignment in my creative writing class and it got kinda whumpy :3
They've got names but they're not established characters or anything! So there's no missed context haha we're just in media res.
Content warnings: cyborg whump, medical whump mention, bad caretaking, heart disease mention
Word count: 685
~~~
The entire point of a synthetic heart was to eliminate these sorts of risks.Â
Chk-chk-chk-shhhh. Gears stuttered around the hydraulic line that kept it beating, and a spark drilled through his t-shirt.Â
âJamie?âÂ
âIâm fine,â he huffed. âThe usual catch.â
âLike hell! Youâre smoking!â
He peeked down. Dirty tendrils curled out of his chest cavity, filtering out through the newly established chimney. The curdling stench of melted rubber trailed with it.
âAnd why should that matter, Cal? My heartâs already wading in tar.â But Jamie grabbed them by the wrist and stormed into the bathroom.
Chk-chk-shhhhhh. Bag and jacket slammed down onto cracked tiles. His shirt caught on mechanical components.
âYour lungs are still flesh,â Cal said. The bastard leaned their happy ass against the door, content to watch him flail: a feral beast mauling what may have once been associated with a sheep.
âLungs canât have arrhythmia.â His voice fluxed and pitched into a squeaky approximation of his doctorâs from within his fabric prison.Â
âWhittenâs a moron.â
âThe only moron whoâs agreed to fix me,â Jamie grunted, the shredded remains of his shirt finally fluttering to the ground. âWould it have killed you to help?â
âIt would kill you if he hears this and decides to weigh in on his patientâs dysfunctional state. We donât need you relying on his shoddy craftsmanship to rip away any more of your humanity.â
âShut the fuck up, Cal.âÂ
To their credit, they did, content to rest in the dim glow of old halogen bulbs. Jamie would have appreciated the sterile hum of fluorescents back in the hospital corridor, but his companion wasnât entirely devoid of logical thought. Arriving broken to an appointment wouldnât do him any favors with the doctor.
He turned to the mirror where the faux heart smiled back, nestled comfortably between two steel panels where his pectorals had once wasted the precious space. Wan skin stretched in an endless expanse around it.Â
Chk-chk-chk-chk-chk-
Jamieâs fist nearly dented the left panel.Â
-shhhh.
âWhat did I say? Faulty machinery.â
Jamieâs fist nearly dented Calâs left cheek. The wood grain bowed around purpled knuckles.Â
âMake yourself useful and open my back panel.â
âCareful.â They snatched the screwdriver before he got creative. âWhitten will saw that one off next.â
âGood. Maybe I wonât miss next time.â
The screws whined as Cal shimmied them out, already stripped from the last ten times. Oil and grease slithered out when they reached inside for the same loose gear.
âBefore I tighten you upâŚâ
âSave it, Calvin,â Jamie spat.Â
âNo. No, listen to me, dammit!â They squeezed the hydraulic line and simulated beating came to a shuddering halt. âThat tick-tick-tick in the upper chamber feels familiar, doesnât it? You didnât care to notice, but I studied your heart readings before you let that maniac replace it, and this thing is mimicking your atrial fibrillation. Whitten didnât fix anything!â Jamieâs fist found its mark.Â
âGet your filthy hands out of my chest! This fucking thing keeps me alive, and you think you can use it as leverage to preach your naturalist bullshit?! How about I squeeze the breath from your throat, huh? How high and mighty will you be then?â An open palm pushed Cal back up against the door.
âThis isnât about an agenda, itâs about him!â
âHuman hearts canât be tightened and adjusted.â Each finger clamped down one by one, compressing supple skin. âOne little mistake and itâs all over.â
âIs that a threat?â Cal wheezed.
âStand down, or it will be.â
Chk-chk-chk-chk-shhh. Smoke billowed up between them.Â
âLet me be clear,â Jamie continued. âIâd let Whitten pick apart every bone in my body before I let you lay another finger on me.â Cal was flung to the ground, clutching their crushed trachea and retching softly against moldy grout and piss-stained stones. The salt and rot crawled up their tongue.
âDonât come crawling back when he ruins you too, Jamie.â
He slung his bag over a bare shoulder and dropped the jacket into Calâs arms. A moment of hesitation, then a wad of saliva splattered across their forehead.
âKeep your sympathy.â










