#warwick reader

Red obscures (Y/n)’s vision, all objects but a mere shadowy silhouette in a maroon background. The sounds are distorted, muffled as if the creature was submerged inside a liquid even as the putrid air scorches his lungs and burns inside him along with his blood. Faint memories fade in and out of his consciousness like a detuned radio switching between frequencies, the humming of the static and the violent flashes of noise dulled out by the words that cut through it.

Powder’s eyes adjust the settings, keeping the radio tuned at the right frequency and letting the memories be coherent and loud for longer. The red fades, white seeps through, and suddenly he sees the little girl before him, shining like the sun. He opens his mouth, strange even to himself, and lets the sound out of his throat. “Powder.”

A rough, calloused hand presses against his shoulder in a gentle gesture of affection as he watches the children run around chasing each other. Tousled blue hair comes in his direction, Powder’s eyes closed as the girl giggles and holds out another one of her recent contraptions in her tiny hands. Her eyes were open, and the sweet look on them brought a pleasant sensation of joy. The hand squeezes his shoulder. Vander. Vander. The bar. The mines. Vander.

Claws scratch against dirt and filthy pavements, and the creature desperately propels itself forward as the memories fade away. His feet ache, the static gradually returns, and his vision fogs. There's nothing left once he reaches the mines. Nothingness gnaws at his mind, and the smell of soot and ash throws him back into the liquid; the mines brighten up with his movements, but he is blind to the light. (Y/n) stays quiet, no longer searching, just waiting. What he's waiting for, he doesn't know.

Something does come eventually, metallic footsteps and mumbling voices that send a sharp ringing to his head and urge him to attack whatever has come to threaten him. His gut screams at him to move, and he can't hold out any longer; as the sounds grow louder, he gives in to instinct.

Blood rushes to his head, a mechanical click of weapons echoes in the mines, and he feels a surge of vicious adrenaline pumping along with the mixture of chemicals inside him. Dark silhouettes appear, bracing themselves for confrontation and raising their guards; one stands out, a hulking figure—compared to the others—that stands in front with its fists raised.

(Y/n) lunges at it, sharp teeth ready to maul the shadow and tear it into pieces. He knocks them to the ground, claw grazing their left cheek as he slams his hand on the side of their head. The black blur stays still, eyes boring into the creature's mismatched ones.

Greyish blue overwhelms the crimson and the darkness, and as the man’s mouth opens, his voice pierces its way directly into his ears. “(Y/n)... What happened to you?”

It’s unlike Powder’s gentle tuning; his is a harsh decentering force that rips him away from his current reality and thrusts him into the past and the present at the same time. He shudders, mind spinning endlessly with recognition and horror freezing him at where he stands and paralysing his every limb to complete inertia. If he once was submerged in liquid, this liquid has now been turned solid and started to form cracks at its surface.

Five seconds in stillness pass before the creature staggers away, its body swaying side to side as it loses its balance. The pressure in his brain grows stronger as the static melts away and leaves clarity in its wake; the memories surge in a blaring stream, and this time, they stay. (Y/n) blinks twice—vision finally clearing up—and looks at the man in front of him.

“Vander.”

The lights flickered with each step he took and white spots danced in his vision. (Y/n)’s head throbbed, his heart ached, and suddenly it wasn’t just dirt entering his lungs but burning ash as Vander gawked at him—eyes wide, desperate. He stands amid fire; wreckage falls all around him, threatening to crush him and end his life at any moment. His body is much too heavy to move, and a strange fluorescent liquid leaks out of his eyes and ears.

After a long beat of silence, he felt something wet staining his hand, which he now realised had been firmly pressed against the centre of his stomach. He falls. His head hits the floor first, sending a muffled thud from his ear to his eye. The fire crackles around him, cradling him to sleep as the screams vanish bit by bit and the image of Vander dissolves like dust in the wind.

A contrite silence lingers in the mines; his senses return at the same time his memories settle in. No more switching between frequencies, but stuck in the appropriate frequency at which he can remember what was heard and still hear what is being said. Everything breaks completely, and he falls to his knees.

“(Y/n).” Vander calls, worriedly rushing to hold his lover's disfigured face in his hands. There's a rush of tenderness and longing coursing through his veins; he is overwhelmed both by the joy of reunion and by the grief of what was lost.

Darkness shrouds them like a warm cloak, hiding the two men from sight. (Y/n) crawls closer to the other man, his broad figure curling on itself to be as small as possible and claws meekly laying stagnant at the sides of the men he loves. The two hold each other, hearing the sound of their hearts beating. They are alive, and for once in a long time, they are home.