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theramblingvoid · 2 years

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Low level/continuous pain tips for writing

Want to avoid the action movie effect and make your character's injuries have realistic lasting impacts? Have a sick character you're using as hurt/comfort fodder? Everyone has tips for how to write Dramatic Intense Agony, but the smaller human details of lasting or low-level discomfort are rarely written in. Here are a few pain mannerisms I like to use as reference:

General

Continuously gritted teeth (may cause headaches or additional jaw pain over time)

Irritability, increased sensitivity to lights, sounds, etc

Repetitive movements (fidgeting, unable to sit still, slight rocking or other habitual movement to self-soothe)

Soft groaning or whimpering, when pain increases or when others aren't around

Heavier breathing, panting, may be deeper or shallower than normal

Moving less quickly, resistant to unnecessary movement

Itching in the case of healing wounds

Subconsciously hunching around the pain (eg. slumped shoulders or bad posture for gut pain)

Using a hand to steady themself when walking past walls, counters, etc (also applies to illness)

Narration-wise: may not notice the pain was there until it's gone because they got so used to it, or may not realize how bad it was until it gets better

May stop mentioning it outright to other people unless they specifically ask or the pain increases

Limb pain

Subtly leaning on surfaces whenever possible to take weight off foot/leg pain

Rubbing sore spots while thinking or resting

Wincing and switching to using other limb frequently (new/forgettable pain) or developed habit of using non dominant limb for tasks (constant/long term pain)

Propping leg up when sitting to reduce inflammation

Holding arm closer to body/moving it less

Moving differently to avoid bending joints (eg. bending at the waist instead of the knees to pick something up)

Nausea/fever/non-pain discomfort

Many of the same things as above (groaning, leaning, differences in movement)

May avoid sudden movements or turning head for nausea

Urge to press up against cold surfaces for fever

Glazed eyes, fixed stare, may take longer to process words or get their attention

Shivering, shaking, loss of fine motor control

If you have any more details that you personally use to bring characters to life in these situations, I'd love to hear them! I'm always looking for ways to make my guys suffer more write people with more realism :)

#voidrambles #writing #whump #does this count as that? whatever those folks will probably enjoy it at any rate #this is honestly mostly for my own reference but i hope it can maybe help some other people too :)#I'm so pulled in by books that write pain in a human and detailed way and not just when it's dramatic or intense #would love to see more of that and incorporate it into my own writing #oh i should have added. distraction seeking to that list #like writing a really long post about.#...yes i may be chronically ill and having a flare today and yes i may be farming myself for writing tips for Future Me hdgfhfhsjs #but hey gotta do your research somewhere babeyyy it all goes in the creativity soup #tw injury #tw illness

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worms-in-my-brain · 8 months

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Grabbing you by the ears. Disabled people do not have to explain ourselves to other people. If I can’t do it, that’s all the information you need! You’re not entitled to my life or medical information!

#neurodivergent #autism #ableism #disability #disabled #actually disabled #actually mentally ill #chronic pain #chronic injury #chronic illness

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daaedoodles · 3 months

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disabled regina george is a concept

#disabled regina george #regina george #mean girls 2024 #renee rapp #what if regina george has spinal cord injury from being hit by a bus #she has chronic back and leg pain #and POTS

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aealzx · 4 months

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Mikey knew that he would never regret saving Leo. All of the damage that had been done to his arms, all the self-inflicted burns ripping through his skin, all the twitches and spasms wrecking his hobbies and daily life were worth it when it came to keeping his brother with them. He knew that someday he would proudly wear the scars that scraped his once smooth skin. He was strong. He could handle something like this.

He knew he could handle this.

But right then, with his network of pain stabbing blades in his arms, burning anger raging even at the air touching the raw skin, he didn’t want to hear it. Not even from his normally confident self.

He just wanted a moment to accept that it sucked. Accept that it hurts. Acknowledge that he hated feeling like there were hot iron cards slotted into his arms. He wanted to rage. And cry. And let himself be selfishly angry as the tiniest breeze prickling his bare nerves.

When Raph found him Mikey had already stripped the bandages from his twitching arms, hoping that would help them stop stinging. It hadn’t made a difference, and now he was stuck standing, staring in seething anguish at his spasming limbs like they had personally offended everything he held dear. Those eyes had shifted to Raph when he was noticed, and the shuddering breaths sucked through clenched teeth, broken by stray hiccups, just caused Raph’s own eyes to soften in sympathy.

Shifting into the room, Raph just raised his own arms and held them open in offering. “C’mere. I got you,” he beckoned quietly. A gentle coax as well as an allowance that Mikey didn’t have to keep himself strong. He could have his moment to break, and Raph would be there to keep a hold of the pieces until he felt well enough to put himself back together.

The hissed breaths soon became shuddering huffs as Mikey’s jaw unclenched along with his iron grip around his figurative self. His response to Raph came as a squeaked whimper that became a drawn out wail as the barrier against the tears broke as well. Mikey barely raised his hands in return, and Raph had enough of an acceptance to motivate him to move forward. He was careful to not touch Mikey’s arms as he wrapped his little brother in his own, pulling him close and letting him sob into his shoulder once more. It was heartbreaking to see Mikey reduced to this state. But Raph knew that sometimes their strongest brother also needed a moment to be weak once and awhile.

_______________

This is a result of me having the thought "Hey, why are you only ever beating up Donnie? e<e" and going "Alright, bet e<e" in response.

#my art #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #long post #sunset duo #mikey #raph #post movie #headcanon #injury #open wound #chronic pain #kinda?

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ba1laur · 4 months

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#dont tag this as “me” or any “fictional myblorbo character” -core thanks #its a personal piece on chronic pain so id rather it remain that way lol #cw animal harm #cw injury #cw blood #eyestrain #bright colors #scheduled post #art tag #i couldnt decide so u get all of them

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genderqueerdykes · 8 days

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i just had the worst fucking cluster headache of my life, i could not function OR rest for about 3 hours, i was just sitting in various spots of my apartment like this >_< while trying to find the darkest spot i could, alternating between trying to sleep and trying to just sit there.

trying to sleep made it worse, somehow? i eventually was able to in the end but for several hours trying to sleep made the pain throb and stab. i took some seroquel and that was able to help me sleep but i could not open my eyes for the life of me, nor could i keep them shut for too long. my right eye / back of my head just hurt like hell for no reason for 3 hours and at several points i just kinda whined and cried a little because there was not really much i could do drinking water didnt help. i ate food, that didnt help

that sucks ass. if you deal with these too, im sorry. people trivialize headaches all the time, but this one resisted an extra gabapentin, which helps with migraines and headaches, and i was still unable to do anything but deal with what was happening. there are a lot of different types and manifestations of headaches. if someone tells you they're experiencing a bad headache, please let them do what they need in order to get through whatever they're experiencing

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unstablemotions · 4 months

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Help Save My Cousin's Life 💜

My 25 y/o cousin Line, known as @nebulow online, needs for surgery for Craniocervical Instability (CCI). This is her last resort as she's been deteriorating fast. She's also diagnosed with Congenital Muscular Dystrophy (CMD), which will kill her if her CCI isn't treated.

Here's her Fundraiser

Any amount helps!! If you can't donate, just reblogging/liking this is a help 💜

#gofundme #fundraising #crowdfunding #financial aid #spoonie #brain injury #cpunk #cci #cmd #actuallydisabled #actually disabled #craniocervical instability #congenital muscular dystrophy #brain trauma #chronic illness #chronic pain #chronically ill #medical fundraiser

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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Eddie goes live on Tiktok and he is laying in bed. He doesn’t have a shirt on so a lot of his newer fans are seeing his scars for the first time. They’re also hearing the stiffness in his voice when he says, “No one tells you when you’re young, cool, and being eaten alive that one day you’re going to need to see a masseuse once a week if you don’t want your body to feel like it’s turning to stone.”

You can see Steve moving in and out of frame on his crutches while Eddie monologues, “And then your masseuse is going to go into labor the day of your appointment and you’re not going to be able to get in with anybody. And you’re in so much fucking pain.”

“I can call Max if you want.”

“Last time Max gave me a massage, she almost killed me.”

Steve appears in frame again with a heating pad and a bunch of different lotions, “What do you want to smell like.”

“Anything, just touch me, please.”

It looks physically painful for Eddie to move enough for Steve to get the heating pad under him. Steve gets situated over him in order to give him a massage but it’s kinda awkward because he can’t put weight on his broken ankle.

Eddie looks at them in the camera and kinda has to laugh because, “We’re a mess.”

“We always have been,” Steve smiles, leaning down just enough to kiss the top of his head. He starts his massage, “Now, tell me a story.”

#The Munson-Harrington House: We’ve got chronic pain and a bat made of nails #I just think that given Eddie’s injuries. he’s going to have some lasting effects.#I’ve given this man asthma too #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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thebad-lydrawn-sanses · 4 months

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Ah. Dust your voice is different now huh? To us it just looks like it's in italics where it wasn't before...what does it sound like? More echoey? Quieter? Do you have to use more magic to talk?

Dust: i took the ability to subconsciously speak, eat, and hear for granted. it takes effort now. everything sounds muffled. eating is a slow and embarrassing task that i need help with now. i've been told that my voice sound softer, almost echo-ey. Killer says it sounds like I'm in pain 24/7. they're not wrong. i didn't have a sense of smell in the first place, so no loss there. i can still see perfectly fine for some reason i refuse to question, so, yay there too Cr: Dust's shirt: i lured him to death with a can of baked beans

#dust sans #old injury #disability #disabled character #death #murder #<- those two tags are for his shirt #chronic pain #food mention #hard of hearing #<- tags mostly so people can filter them out as needed #Dust opening a door because he's looking for Horror rip #queue

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cree-future-rabbi · 1 month

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I loathe the day that my hands stop me from playing guitar.

I had a custom guitar made for me, I spent so much time and money upgrading it, only to not be able to play it anymore because of the neck shape.

It was such a beautifully built guitar. Solid and had decent bones. I put in my dream pickups that I spent six months to find the pair.

I had to sell it because my hand and wrist weren't able to play for more than two minutes without two days of hand pain.

At least the person who bought it will love it, seeing him smile when I dropped it off, he was so happy.

My loss is your gain good sir.

He was super nice also and told me some guitars that would fit my hand nicely.

10/10 best customer 👌

He funded a guitar that fits in my hand and is a bad ass guitar, though, so it all worked out. Sounds nice in recordings without having to do any upgrades.

#chronic illness #fibromyalgia #chronic pain #hand pain #wrist pain #wrist injury #hand injury #hand is fucked #chronically ill #fibro problems #invisible illness #autoimmune disease #disability #physically disabled #i hope i can play guitar until the day I die #my loss is your gain brother #guitar player

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in-love-with-writing-whump · 28 days

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Dialogue Prompt

"Caretaker... it hurts... it still hurts, even after *everything—*"

"I know, Whumpee. I know. But you're safe now, I promise."

#whump prompt #whumpee #tw: trauma #caretaker #tw: angst #tw: injury #tw: crying #caretaker x whumpee #tw: chronic pain #dialouge prompt

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serickswrites · 5 months

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Things We Lost

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced head injury, fire, nightmares, chronic pain, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort

Caretaker woke with a start. Whumpee thrashed in the bed next to them, moaning softly as they moved. Caretaker put a gentle hand on Whumpee's shoulder and leaned back. Whumpee had hit them a few times accidentally when they tried to wake Whumpee from a nightmare. Whumpee's limbs flailed.

"Shhhh, love," Caretaker murmured quietly, "it's just a dream. Shhhh, wake up, love. I've got you."

Whumpee's sleep shirt slipped down over their shoulder as they moved, revealing their deep, ragged scars from the fire Whumper had set trying to keep them. Caretaker would never forget finding Whumpee. Would never forget trying to find a way through the flames to Whumpee. Whumpee had watched them with eyes unfocused, their face a mask of blood. Whumper had hurt them, terribly, banging their head on concrete before setting fire to the warehouse. Caretaker was in the midst of trying to find another way to Whumpee, when Whumpee leapt through the flames, their ragged clothing catching fire.

And Whumpee's screams of pain were a sound that Caretaker would never forget. The sound of pure agony ripping itself from Whumpee's lips. The sound lived forever in Caretaker's brain.

Whumpee had lost a lot in their time with Whumpee. But they were healing. Slowly. The doctors had assured Caretaker Whumpee would make a full recovery, albeit they would likely suffer from some chronic pain. But they would live. And function.

"Love, I'm here, wake up," Caretaker shook Whumpee's shoulder.

Whumpee's eyes snapped open, a shriek escaping their lips. Their eyes were unfocused as they wildly glanced around the room. "NOOO. PLEASE!"

"Whumpee, love, you're here. You're here with me." Caretaker rubbed a soft circle on Whumpee's shoulder. "I'm here. You're safe."

Whumpee blinked slowly. Their eyes began to focus. "Caretaker?" They whispered.

"Here, love. I've got you." They opened their arms for Whumpee.

Whumpee leaned into Caretaker's embrace. "Thank God. That was....a really bad one."

Caretaker squeezed Whumpee tight. "I know. But I've got you. You're safe."

Whumpee snuggled tighter into Caretaker's arms. "I know you do. You're the one thing I didn't lose."

"And I didn't lose you," Caretaker replied softly, kissing the top of Whumpee's head. They didn't. But they very nearly had.

"Will you hold me until I fall asleep again?" Whumpee's voice was soft and uncertain.

"Of course. I'll hold you as long as you'll let me."

Whumpee let out a sigh of relief, burrowing deep into Caretaker's embrace. "Safe....here," they murmured as they closed their eyes.

"You'll always be safe here, Whumpee. I have you, love. And I'll never let you go."

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cupcakes-n-rainbows · 11 months

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Using mobility aids is not "setting myself up to fail in my own fantasy." I am not giving in or giving up.

When I say I don't ever see myself without my wheelchair, I'm not giving up. I'm looking up at the future with sparkles in my eyes, watching it all unfold on the movie screen in my mind. And in that future? I'm disabled. I use a wheelchair. I have paralysis. I need help. And in that future? It's beautiful and it's amazing and it's fun, and it isn't hampered or dampened or lessened in worth by four wheels instead of two feet. It's just my future. Yes, it's different than that of an able-bodied person, but everyone's future is different, wheels or not. The help I need and my form of mobility doesn't make my life or my future any less wonderful.

Please, hear me and know me and understand me. Please, listen and truly take it to heart when I tell you that this is my future and this is my life. Not the hope you had for me when I was seven or how I danced when I was ten. That naive child left years ago, locked somewhere within the depths of my mind. She won't be back. I'm not her anymore. I'm not the same as I was, and I never will be.

My story isn't a tragedy. I'm not "too young". I'm not "too smart". I'm not throwing away my "bright future". This is my bright future. This is me, through and through and up and down, forwards and backwards and right and wrong.

Please. Let me live on my wheels rather than die on my feet. It's all I ask.

#chronic illness #chronic pain #disability #wheelchair user #disabled #actually disabled #mobility aids #ehlers danlos #ehlers danlos syndrome #wheelchair #spinal cord injury #rain speaks #young people can have chronic pain. young people can need mobility aids. young people can be paralyzed.#end the stigma. i'm not “too young”.

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whump-tr0pes · 13 days

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Honor Bound 6 - 28

Honor Bound 6 - 28 (Chronic Pain) @badthingshappenbingo

Red X for posted, white X for requested! Send in your requests! If you don’t see a prompt here that you already requested, please send it again!

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

Contents: tattooing, chronic pain, old injury, blood, past consensual sex, negotiating boundaries

By the time Brandon had finished half of Zachariah’s tattoo, Sam was beginning to sweat through their shirt. Zachariah had long since sweat through his. Sweat was beading on his brow, running into his eyes, and Brandon had given him a rag to mop his face so he would be more comfortable.

“Just let me know if you need to stop, man, and we can stop,” Brandon had said a few times. Every time Zachariah would bite his lip and shake his head and say he was fine, really, and Brandon would keep going, at least until the next time he would ask. He was asking it every few minutes, now.

Still, Sam hoped no one would notice how much pain they were in. Sitting on this stool with nothing to support their arm, the old wound had long since begun to ache. Old, throbbing pain radiated up and down their arm. The palm of their right hand prickled where normally there was only unsettling numbness. They cradled their arm against their chest.

It had been so, so long since they’d had a bad pain day.

Still, thankfully, everyone seemed to be focusing on Zachariah. It was nice to find the luxury even to be in pain without drawing the worried and guilty glances of their family. Living under the watchful eyes of Isaac, Gavin, and Gray was – well, it was what Sam wanted, but it came at the price of knowing their pain hurt the ones they lived with and loved so dearly. It was nice to be able to exist, even in pain, and not have to so carefully mask it, even for a few hours. Masking it took more energy, which made the pain worse, which just made it harder to mask—

A hand fell on their shoulder. They flinched and sucked in a gasp. Fire jolted through their wound to their hand and they cried out.

Brandon pulled the tattoo machine away from Zachariah’s shoulder and all eyes turned to Sam. They shuddered and ducked their head at the awful, familiar guilt and worry in everyone’s eyes, the way everyone seemed to reach for them at once…

“I’m fine,” they bit out – an instinct. Their hand spasmed against their chest.

“Whoa,” Brandon mumbled as he set the tattoo machine to the side. “You all good?”

“I’m fine,” Sam said, more forcefully this time. “It’s just—”

“You’re really pale,” Isaac said weakly. It was his hand on their shoulder that had startled them.

Sam squeezed their own wrist tightly as they dragged in a shaky inhale, pushed out a hissing exhale. “Yeah,” they croaked.

“Do we need to take a second?” Brandon said. Sam raised their eyes to him. He looked as relaxed as if they were talking about their lunch plans, as if Sam wasn’t moments away from throwing up all over his floor.

“No,” Sam breathed, squeezing their eyes shut and forcing another deep breath. “No, you can keep going. This is just… this is just something that happens.”

Zachariah shifted in his chair. “Um… I think… I might need a minute.” His voice was shaking, sweat beading on his upper lip. He looked like he had just run ten miles.

“Sure,” Brandon said, nonchalant as could be. He set the tattoo machine and stained cloth down.

The fire was fading, but the crushing ache was not. Sam leaned their head against Isaac’s chest as he stood beside them. “G-getting better,” they murmured. “It’s just… I think it’s just sitting here. Making my arm hurt.”

“Fair enough,” Isaac said gently. He wound his arms around them and held them close. It felt nice to be held, even though Sam could feel his heart hammering against their cheek through his shirt. “Maybe I can take you home? Gavin can stay here with Zachariah?”

“Uh…” Zachariah sounded better than he had a minute ago, but not by much.

Sam lifted their head and glanced at Zachariah.

He stared at Brandon apologetically. “Could I actually… be done for today? I’m sorry, but… it’s more than I thought I could—”

Brandon lifted a gloved hand, stained with ink and blood. Zachariah fell silent. “No problem at all, dude. Like I said, we didn’t have to finish this today. Let me cover this, and you can just come in tomorrow and I’ll finish you up. Deal?”

“Deal,” Zachariah huffed, sagging with relief. Sam sagged with him. Isaac’s arm wound around their shoulders, and they nearly slumped off their stool and into his embrace. Gavin appeared at their other side. Their mouth twitched, and embarrassment prickled in their stomach, before they raised their eyes to look at him; he looked pale, too, and tired.

He probably needs rest more than any of us right now.

Still, Sam could tell by the hard set of his mouth that nothing could have pulled him away from watching the Stormbeck crest disappear from Zachariah’s shoulder.

“—'ll probably bleed a bit,” Brandon was telling Zachariah as Sam blinked against the pain fogging their thoughts. “And leak some ink. If there’s more blood than, like, just a little bit, come see me. But don’t worry about a little blood and ink. I mean. You’ve had a tattoo before.”

“Yeah,” Zachariah said weakly. He flinched as Brandon wrapped clear plastic over the half-finished tattoo.

“Yeah, so, tomorrow morning I have another job, but tomorrow afternoon I’m free. Come by then and I’ll finish you up. Everybody good to make it home?” Brandon looked around at everyone, his eyes staying on Zachariah longest. Sam nodded and leaned against Isaac.

“W-we’ll make it,” Gavin murmured through pale, thin lips. His arm slid around Sam’s waist, although he looked like if Sam leaned even slightly against him, he would collapse.

The sweat on Zachariah’s skin was already starting to dry. He raised his damp t shirt and mopped his brow, then looked at Sam. He offered them a tentative smile.

“Halfway there,” he said softly, and held out his hand to them. His palm was warm as they slid their hand into his.

Brandon tore the plastic wrap and tucked in the ends, smoothing down the last stray bits. “Okay, you’re all good,” he said, and rolled his little table of tattoo supplies against the wall. The tattoo machine clinked as he began to disassemble it.

Sam released Zachariah’s hand and pushed themself unsteadily to their feet. Zachariah rose beside them. Isaac and Gavin stayed on Sam’s either side, Isaac being especially careful not to jostle Sam’s arm. Sam breathed slowly through the pain, which had dulled now to a steady throb. The pain hadn’t been this bad in… in weeks. Still, it crawled into their muscles, digging into their very bone, and ate at them. When they passed through the door to Brandon’s shack and felt the cool breeze on their face, they heaved a sigh of relief.

“Home, then?” Isaac said gently. His eyes belied his worry, but… there wasn’t as much guilt there as Sam expected.

They leaned into him, but froze as they felt Gavin stumble at their other side. They chewed their lip and caught themself casting a worried glance of their own at Gavin. “Um…”

“Why don’t…” Zachariah stared at his feet as he spoke. Sam hoped that one day he wouldn’t look so frightened, all the time. “I mean, um… Sam, if it works for you… you could come over to my place, and, um… I’ll…”

I’ll take care of you.

Sam swallowed past the lump in their throat that formed at Zachariah’s unsaid words. They forced a smile.

“…I’ll make us dinner if you want. And we could just hang out… have a quiet night.”

Sam blinked.

“Sam?” Isaac said. “Does that sound okay?”

“Um.” Sam met Zachariah’s eyes, stomach fluttering with embarrassment. He had never been the one to coddle them, not when they had to wear the sling, not when they needed to sleep half the day because they were still healing, never. Still, if Zachariah were to take care of Sam… they couldn’t imagine him ever making them feel guilty for it. They nodded numbly. “Yeah,” they said. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

A shy smile played at Zachariah’s lips. “Great,” he breathed.

Sam squeezed Gavin with their intact arm and laid their head against Isaac’s shoulder. “See you back at the house later, then?”

“Only if you want to,” Isaac said, and kissed the crown of Sam’s head. “If it works better for you to stay the night at Zachariah’s, no worries there.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said, and stepped away. Isaac and Gavin waved at the two of them as they headed toward their house. Before they could disappear from sight, Gavin collapsed against Isaac’s side. Isaac’s arm wound around Gavin’s waist and they kept walking like that, Gavin leaning all his weight against Isaac, until they turned a corner and disappeared from Sam’s sight. Sam swallowed hard and looked up at Zachariah. This time, neither of them bothered to conceal the worry on their faces.

∴

Zachariah’s cooking was amazing. Now that Sam thought about it, they didn’t think they had ever had a dish that Zachariah had made himself. Cooking was so often a communal thing with the family, and so often something simple that could be thrown together quickly to serve six people, then seven, growing until they were a ten-person family; rice, some kind of vegetable, and some kind of meat with a delicious sauce was the usual fare. Besides, that made leftovers easy, too. For someone to cook something just for themselves was so rare that it almost never happened.

Still, Sam could scarcely believe that they had gone all this time – more than three months – without tasting Zachariah’s cooking. Even without the fancy spices that he was used to having in the city, he had made some kind of rice-and-tomatoes-and-chicken dish that had Sam going back for seconds, even still a little nauseated from the pain. Now they were stretched out on the couch, regretting the second helping but happy to be cuddling in Zachariah’s lap, a sack of microwaved dry rice propped under their sore arm. They heaved a sigh and rested their head against Zachariah’s broad chest.

“Good?” Zachariah murmured, and Sam detected the slightest hint of self-satisfaction in his voice. It made them smile.

“You know it was,” they groaned, burying their face in his shirt to hide their smile. “You… you tricked me into eating so much. You… coerced me, Zachariah Medina.” Pain twinged through their old wound. They sucked in a breath through their teeth and held their hand tightly to their chest.

Zachariah’s mouth made a firm line. “Still pretty bad, huh?” He shifted the bag of rice, pulling it higher into Sam’s armpit.

“No, it’s, ah…” Sam pushed out a slow, shaky breath. “Not as…” Their stomach lurched, and they clenched their teeth together to keep from being sick all over their own lap. Another slow breath in, another slow breath out. They glanced up and found Zachariah’s warm brown eyes staring into theirs.

His lips trembled – no, they weren’t trembling, they were just moving soundlessly like he was trying to choose which words to say. Sam closed their eyes. They couldn’t focus on both him and the pain at once. They couldn’t deal with—

“We… don’t have to hang out, if you don’t want to,” Zachariah said. Sam’s shoulders relaxed as they realized there wasn’t any disappointment in his voice at all. They opened their eyes again, their gaze unfocused. They wet their lips.

“I still want to… be around you,” they croaked. “I just… sorry, it’s just… hard to deal with… this. Right now.” Their left hand curled into a fist.

“I get that,” Zachariah said. “I do. So… how do you want to be around me? It’s up to you.”

Sam drew a deep breath in through their nose and blew it out through their lips. They glanced around the small living room. There wasn’t much to the space; there was a small table with a few chairs, some shelves set up that had been stocked with a few weeks’ worth of food, the kitchen leading off to the right. In the other direction led the hallway to the bathroom and bedroom. Sam’s eyes lingered on the hallway.

“Um…” Even without their meaning to, their mind strayed to the ways the both of them had spent their time together for the past month. While Gavin had been missing, Zachariah had been as much a prisoner in the farmhouse as if he had been chained there. He couldn’t go on walks with the others like he used to, or swim in the lake, or go into town. There had been so little to do but lie in bed together, clothed at first, then not, then…

Sam swallowed hard and returned their gaze to Zachariah’s. “I’d just really like to lie down,” they said woodenly.

And I don’t want to fuck you tonight. Please, please don’t ask me to fuck you tonight.

Zachariah nodded once. “Sounds good,” he said, and opened his arms.

Sam felt tired in their bones as they pushed away from his chest and stiffly got to their feet. The warm bag of rice slid onto the couch cushions, but Zachariah waved their hand away from it.

“Let me,” he said with a gentle smile.

Sam shuffled to the bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light before they crawled on top of Zachariah’s blanket. They lowered themself onto the left side and curled into a limp ball. The bed dipped as Zachariah joined them.

“I don’t want to have sex tonight,” Sam mumbled.

There was a slight huff as Zachariah tucked the warm compress under Sam’s arm and settled behind them, curling around their body and pulling them close. “I figured,” he said softly. “I don’t feel like it, either.” There was a smile in his voice.

“Yeah?” Sam shivered as he nuzzled into the back of their neck, pressing a small kiss into their curls – and then he settled, his breath fanning out over their hair.

“Yeah.” Zachariah’s thumb rubbed back and forth, back and forth on their left wrist. They were grateful for the touch, for his warmth, and for the fact that this was the extent of it. Isaac would be worried, and guilty, and sad, his hands reaching out to Sam, perhaps clutching at them so that he could remind himself that they were alive, and that he wasn’t about to lose them, but Zachariah… Zachariah just was.

“Hmmm,” Sam hummed. The heat was helping. As their muscles relaxed, the pain ebbed, just the slightest bit. Still, their palm kept tingling. They wondered if this pain would last, or if it would be gone when they woke.

Continued here

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