#laughsobs

Conner and Jett

Conner woke to the smell of bacon, and his stomach attempting to heave its way from the position it had formerly been in.

He rolled from the tiny bed, sprinting in three quick steps to the bathroom, and then the contents of his stomach decorated the inside of the toilet bowl. He wasn’t able to stop heaving until the smell of burning meat was replaced by the disgusting scent of bile, and when he stood, his legs wobbled unsteadily.

Now understood the tired, haggard look to Adrians’s eyes when he’d recommended Conner leave a bucket by the side of his bed.

“Conner?” Jett’s cautious voice was accompanied by a knock at the bathroom door, and when Conner made a grumbled noise of assent, trying to wash out the inside of his mouth, his friend entered…

Carrying with him the smell of meat.

They’re burning, they’re burning, you’re burning, everyone’s gonna burn and die and can’t you smell that can’t you fucking smell that-

Almost immediately, he’d thrown himself back over the toilet bowl, but by this point there was nothing left in his stomach.

Jett tried to chuckle, give him a joke, but Conner still heard the obvious concern in his voice when he said, “Woah, morning sickness huh?”

Unable to answer, stomach still in the process of throwing a revolt, Conner shakily raised his best friend the middle finger, and felt Jett’s hand on the middle of his back, gently stroking his spine till he could finally manage words.

“Close-,” He ordered stiffly, trying not to breathe, “Close the door.”

Jett almost leaped to do it, and Conner would have laughed had he any idea what was wrong with him, but as it was he was still barely able to keep his stomach from forcing him over the toilet again.

There was the sound of running water, and then Jett presented him with a half-full cup. He grabbed it eagerly, rinsing out the taste of half-digested food, and when he spat back into it, Jett filled it up with clear water again.

This time he took it slower; drunk it instead of spitting it into the cup again, and he could feel himself shaking as he leaned against the cool walls.

Jett came and rested next to him, body warm and oh so thankfully alive, and for some reason Conner felt a lump grow in his throat. “I-,” he tried to say, but couldn’t find the words to continue.

“S’alright. Didn’t really feel like bacon either. I’ll make pancakes in a bit.”

Kelly and Lucas

Lucas couldn’t swim.

Kelly, because she was Kelly, and Lucas’ best friend and closest confident, knew that.

And Lucas knew, that, unlike Kelly, he wasn’t strong enough to face his fears. Kelly was strong and wonderful and amazing, and he was just-

there.

Honestly, the only reason Lucas even came to the pool with Kelly was because if you were swimming after hours you had to have two passes to get in and out, as a safety precaution. And Kelly, being as anti-social as she was, loved swimming but hated having to swim with people.

Given that Kelly was of a higher rank than him, and often had more paperwork to suffer through (though honestly, he did a lot of it for her,) it was a guarantee that she’d be awake if he couldn’t find it in himself to try and sleep, haunted as he was by the faces of the members of squads he’d led that’d never came back.

So Lucas knew that Kelly would be awake, and if Kelly was awake at such a time at night, than she’d gladly take a break to go swimming.

And if Kelly wanted to go swimming at night, than she needed two passes, one of which Lucas was happy to provide.

He hated swimming, and the water, certainly, but he couldn’t sleep unless he knew that there was someone nearby and having Kelly splash around quietly as she swum was all the background noise he needed to get rid of the memories of fire, blood, and pain.

So, when he knocked on her door and she answered without her usual relieved smile, the customary question poised on his lips, he froze. The words stayed there, trapped behind his open teeth.

“Kelly?” He asked instead, stepping into her room when she opened the door further, and once she’d shut it she wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed her eyes shut.

Her voice was a barely audible whisper, even in the quiet that hung in her room, and he only just caught her whispered admittance.

“It wasn’t torture.” She said, like she was trying to argue something that she knew she wouldn’t be able to prove to him. “Sticking someone under liquid like that isn’t water torture.”

And Lucas felt something delicate in his chest chip a little bit more, knowing that if he moved she’d likely trap the words even closer to herself, layering them with lies.