Extinction
Whumptober Day 27: I misread Alt Prompt #7 Examination, so I guess this is now a Skies-specific prompt of Extinction. Though if you wanted to get poetic about it, I guess ‘Scars’ would also work.
Characters: Sky, Four, everyone’s kind of there especially in the first part
Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, grief, dehumanisation, it makes sense in context
Read on Ao3!
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“No, see, wolves are to wolfos what unicorns are to horses,” Hyrule is explaining to a perplexed Wild. “And rabbits to a pols voice. Y’know, the non-monstery version.”
“Out of curiosity, what the fuck do you think a unicorn is?” Legend asks, visibly fascinated by the whole conversation.
Hyrule thinks for a moment. “I’m pretty sure it’s like a horse with fairy wings? That doesn’t want to kill you.”
“Okay, I think we need to introduce you to more horses than Twilight’s monster.”
“Oi!” Twilight protests, looking up from his leatherwork.
“Last week she stomped and then ate a deku baba,” Legend says flatly.
“So?”
“Oh my god,” Legend mutters. Then, as Time walks up, his patrol apparently finished, “Hey, old man! What’s a unicorn to you?”
“Horse with a horn,” he replies easily.
Wild wrinkles his nose, clearly struggling to imagine it. “What’s the horn for?”
“For stabbing people, obviously.”
“What?! No!” Indignant, Four looks up from his book. “They cleanse water and purify poisons! There are no legends associating them with the battlefield, except for one country that uses them as the heraldry device for medics!”
Time shrugs, clearly unbothered.
“No wings, then?” asks Hyrule, slightly crestfallen.
“Nah, that’s a pegasus,” says Warriors.
“Like the boots?” Legend squints at the wings on his own.
“I think so? It’s a horse with, like, bird wings. One of the noble families back home uses them in their heraldry. There’s a lot of mythical creatures on heraldry, actually.”
“Rabbits ain’t mythical,” says Twilight.
“I’ve never seen one before.”
“Wait, back up – what’s a rabbit?” says Wind.
“A non-monstery pols voice.”
Wind isn’t pleased with Hyrule’s answer. “And what the hell is a pols voice?”
“It’s like…” Hyrule is stumped by the question. “It’s like… a, a blob with whiskers and long ears, except then it opens its mouth and it’s ALL mouth, and all teeth, and –”
“Oh, those! Huh, I never knew what they were called. I only came across ‘em once. And a rabbit is…”
“Smaller and less evil,” says Legend dryly, which which for some reason makes Twilight sputter with choked laughter.
“Oh, yeah - Sky,” Hyrule turns around to address him, “Sky, you’re the earliest -”
“I have never seen a unicorn,” Sky interrupts. “And I’m not sure what a rabbit is, but there’s a lot of flora and fauna on the Surface we’re still struggling to figure out, and I haven’t seen much of it that’s familiar while travelling with you. Things must change a lot through the eras.” He feels his face fall as his heart does. “Like loftwings, I guess.”
“What are loftwings, anyway? You’ve mentioned them before.”
Sky’s brow furrows. “Have I not explained loftwings yet?”
“You got partway through and then we were attacked by those chuchus and got distracted,” Wild offers.
Sky pulls a face. Right, and then cleanup had taken forever, because chuchus. Of all monster species, why were those ones so universal? They were barely even functional! “Okay. Loftwings are… huge birds, I guess is the easiest way to describe them. Each Hylian gets a loftwing partner when we’re young, and we grow up together. It’s - everyone has one. It’s been really weird to me that none of your eras have them. Since we’re on an isolated series of islands - or, well, we were - loftwings are essential to carry us from place to place.”
“They carry you? How big are they?”
“Pretty big.” Sky squints for a moment. “Crimson’s wingspan would stretch between that log and where Twilight’s sitting, easy.”
“Giant birds?” Wind screws up his face. “Like the Helmaroc King? Don’t like that.”
It’s Hyrule’s turn to make a face. “What’s a helmaroc king?”
Wind shrugs. “Massive bird monster. Oh, hey, maybe that’s what happened to Loftwings?”
“Hm?” Sky blinks back from where he’d been imagining Crimson sitting between Twilight and Warriors, sneakily tugging the captain’s scarf whenever he looked away. Goddess, he misses him. “Sorry, what was that?”
“You said it was weird that they don’t exist in any of our eras, right? Maybe it’s because they turned into monsters over time, like wolves and rabbits!”
Sky doesn’t know what noise he makes at that, doesn’t know what his face is doing. He feels cold, and sick, and horrified, because no no no that can’t be what happened please tell him that’s not what happened -
But why did the loftwings disappear? Left behind only in heraldry and insignia, not even their names left to history? How could they have been forgotten so completely?
“No,” he chokes out, “no, that can’t be. Loftwings aren’t monsters.”
“But sometimes animals can become monsters when they’re exposed to lots of dark magic over many years, like with wolfos. It would make sense why we’ve never heard of them, right, if they all became, like, kargarocs or something.”
The voices of the others die away to an indistinct hum. Sky thinks he should be concerned about that, except he’s already occupied with the sudden chill against his skin, the way his heart feels simultaneously too large and too small for the space it occupies, straining and racing, the way his lungs burn when he tries to breathe and ache when he doesn’t.
His head hurts.
His heart hurts.
Slowly, the buzzing fades.
“If we find a unicorn, do you think we can smuggle it back to my Hyrule?” Hyrule is asking.
“The hell do you want one of them for?”
“If they can really purify water, then –”
They’ve moved on from the conversational bomb that had rocked Sky to his foundations. Accepted the explanation without comment or question. To them, it’s just another strange fact about the world, like the way monsters in Wild’s Hyrule will all spring back to life when the moon turns red, or that there’s magic trapped in music. Over time, animals can turn into monsters.
And Sky just – doesn’t know how, doesn’t have the vocabulary to explain to them that loftwings aren’t animals – they’re people.
(He’s never had to explain it before. On Skyloft, everyone knows this, from the smallest child to the most forgetful elder: loftwings are your partner, the other half of your soul. They’re people.
When they can’t even understand that much, how does he even begin to explain how horrifying it is to think of them becoming nothing more than monsters, over the millenia?)
–––
Maybe this time, Sky thinks. Maybe this time the portal will take them home.
To his home, at least. He’s never been away so long before. And his jaunts to the Surface had in no way prepared him for the loneliness of being eras and countries away from his friends and his family and his loftwing. And maybe - maybe with it all close to hand, the feelings at his fingertips - he’ll be able to explain it better to the others. Explain it so they’ll understand.
The saturated colours and faint burr of magic through the earth raise his hopes briefly, but - no. This isn’t Skyloft. Isn’t even the Surface beneath it. It’s - it’s easier to define it by what it isn’t. The Surface has lain untouched by Hylian hands for centuries, ancient and wild. This place - it feels tamer. Steadier. Young, almost, but not in the sense of age - in the sense of, of rawness in its magic. It feels new.
And for all that - he knows the days of Skyloft and her Knights are long behind this place.
“Mine,” announces Four, unknowingly confirming Sky’s thoughts. “We’re not far from Lake Hylia, from the looks of it. Anyone wanna watch Wild go fishing again?”
“Hell yeah!” Wind cheers immediately, over Twilight’s groan of frustration.
“Cub, really -”
Wild brightens. “We should compete! See who can catch the most fish for dinner!”
“Now that’s jus’ not fair, Wild, yer explosions will scare off any fish they don’t kill -”
Always happy to stir the pot, Legend says, “Sounds like a skill issue,” and grins at Twilight’s dark look.
Sitting at the base of a tree - or slumping, more accurately - Sky watches their antics with a quiet gaze and no interest in joining in himself.
He’d known it wasn’t likely. The number of times they’ve gone to a familiar Hyrule are far outnumbered by the times no one can identify, and even then, there’s eight other time periods they could land in. He can’t help the disappointment, is all.
Is this what homesickness feels like?
It kinda sucks. No wonder Wind was so miserable.
He’s drawn from contemplating the pooling unhappiness under his ribcage by Four inching closer, hands tucked behind his back. He looks - nervous. Not like he’s going to try to drag him into the water fight now happening on the lake’s shore, at least. Just uncertain. The smile Sky musters for him is probably not a very good one. “Something up, Four?”
“I, um.” Four rocks on his heels, looking almost uncertain. “I… wanted to show you. Something.”
Sky doesn’t actually want to be left alone with his thoughts, so he nods agreeably and hauls himself to his feet. “Lead the way, then.”
Four takes him far enough into the forest that the shouts and laughter and echoes of Wild’s small explosions fade entirely, before choosing a wide clearing to pause in. “I, um.” Four spins, clasping his hands behind his back again. “I noticed that you - well. When the others were talking about loftwings the other day. You got really upset when they were talking about them becoming monsters, or going extinct.”
Ice shoots through Sky’s heart, freezes over his throat for one critical moment. “Yeah,” he finally rasps. “I don’t - it’s - they don’t -”
Four shakes his head. “It’s okay. You don’t need to explain it. I just wanted to show you -” He fumbles with his pouch, pulls out a child-sized ocarina that’s not quite too small for his hands.
The tune he plays sounds almost like a birdcall.
It’s pleasant, if mournful. Sweet-toned and piping like wind instruments tend to be. Sky wonders why Four had moved them so far away just to play him a short song, and then -
Wingbeats. Loud and unmistakeable.
He startles and looks up as a shadow passes overhead - a shadow too large to be any of the birds of Four’s era - and all he can see is a half-silhouette framed in the sun, but his heart leaps at the familiarity.
And when they land -
A loftwing.
Small, but distinctive: the beak broad and long and golden, the curl of their crest and their tail. Pure white, save the bars of colour across the feathertips - Sky’s never seen one like them and he’s never been so relieved.
“Her name is Zeffa,” Four says, from where he’s half-wrapped around the loftwing’s neck in a hug.
“You never told me you had a loftwing,” Sky breathes, stepping forward to greet them - to greet her, as she reaches out in curious welcome.
Four shrugs, feathers ruffling against his back. “I never knew what they were called. She was always just Zeffa, to me. She came to me when I was eight, in the middle of my first adventure. She saved my life,” he adds, snuggling his face into the side of hers as she ducks down and croons at him.
Sky takes the opportunity to look her over more closely. Definitely smaller than average, but with Four as her rider they’re perfectly proportioned. Her feathers are all clean white, no countershading or freckles or markings except the traditional wing bars, the gold fringed by something he’s never seen before. He’d thought it was a simple deep blue at first but it keeps changing colour as Zeffa shifts and the light hits it in different ways. Green one way, red another; a rainbow trapped in keratin fibre.
Sky can feel the grin creeping across his face; wouldn’t dream of trying to stop. “She suits you.”
Four grins back. He looks so comfortable, standing in the shade of Zeffa’s beak and leaning up against her. “She does, doesn’t she?”
Her mind is different to Crimson’s, all shades of cool water instead of open sky and cloud, but it’s still crystal clear. Greetings, Chosen Hero.
“Been a while since I heard that one.” Been a while since he’d last spoken with a loftwing, for that matter; he hopes he’s not rusty. Hopes she can sense his delight and fondness and gratitude, for the care she shows to Four.
She clacks her beak at him, pleased.
“Do all the loftwings call you that?” Four asks, riveted, and Sky’s heart swells at the knowledge that Four can hear her too.
“Usually just the ones who don’t know me personally, or the ones who are making fun of me.” He steps closer, with her approval.
The top of her head barely clears his own. Taking that into account, Sky thinks her beak is a little smaller, too. She smells of feathers and ozone and rain. She smells like home.
“So loftwings do still exist.”
She regards him with something like sorrow, and his heart drops.
I am the last.
I was born towards the end of your reign; the last true loftwing born to Skyloft. And I knew even then that I would be waiting a long time for my beloved. I was born knowing it.
You grieved that, even then. I was too young to tell you, but I will say now, in hopes you will remember: I do not regret the waiting. They were worth waiting for. She tugs Four’s headband playfully, making him shout in protest when it slips over his eyes.
“How long did you have to wait?” Sky whispers, heart aching. Even if she says - he knows it’s a long, long time between Four’s era and his own.
She shrugs, wings settling back against her sides. Who can say? What is time, and how does it pass? Is it truly waiting, to simply live?
And oh, her personality is shining through - mischief hidden under patience, the glee of being deliberately and annoyingly cryptic. No wonder Four didn’t know what she was. Every attempt to ask was probably met with a riddle until he gave up. Sky finds himself smiling again. Even though it hurts. “You still had to be alone, and for that, I’m sorry.”
There is no fault to claim. All things change. From the kikwi to the zora - as the world changes, all must change with it, or be left behind. She runs her beak through his hair, an attempt at comfort.
Sky buries his face in the side of her neck.
I am the last. But do not grieve us.
Four tugs on his sleeve, breaking the focus of his connection. “C’mon, I wanna - I’ve still got something to show you, Zeffa’s not all of it.”
Sky glances back towards the lake. “Is it far?” They’ve been gone long enough as it is, really, and he doesn’t want the others wasting their time searching for them in a panic.
Four shrugs. “It’s fine. I told Time where we’d be going. C’mon, hop on, it’s not far by air but I wouldn’t wanna walk.” He follows his own advice, clambering up Zeffa’s side with ease and sitting across her shoulders, legs in front of her wings. He doesn’t even seem to notice the lack of saddle.
Why would he? Sky thinks with another pang. Loftwing saddlers haven’t been needed for centuries. Does Four even know they existed? “Are you sure she can carry us both? I’m pretty heavy.”
Four looks offended on Zeffa’s behalf. “She’s not that small! And she’s taken multiple people before!”
I will be fine, your majesty. Zeffa clacks at him, amused.
Sky deliberately does not pay attention to that last part. “If you’re sure I won’t hurt her…”
“You won’t,” says Four, and he’s so confident with him that Sky believes him.
There’s nowhere to jump from so like Four he mounts up on the ground, Four in front and Sky behind. It makes him nervous, riding without a saddle - not because he thinks he’ll fall off, but because what if he hurts her? Crushes her feathers the wrong way, clamps down too tight without leather to buffer the force? And is Four sure she can take off from here, getting airborne is hard enough without carrying so much extra weight -
She turns her head to laugh at him with one large, dark eye.
Her wings spread wide. They’re beautiful in the sunlight, red and green flashing at the edges of her primaries. There’s even some purple in the shadows closest to her body, all four of Four’s tunic colours shining through her wings. Goddess, she fits him so beautifully.
Two steps and a powerful wingbeat and then the air is rushing up around them, catching them like they were already falling, and they’re in the air. It can only have been magic but Sky doesn’t know where it came from; can’t bring himself to care, when the forest is getting smaller and blurrier under their feet and the wind is streaming ice-cold against his face and neck and ears.
Goddess, he’s missed this.
The sky looks so much more beautiful from up here; the clouds like they could be solid enough to walk on (though he knows that’s not true). Laid out beneath them is the kingdom, in lines and squares and patches of colour, abstract and strange. Could he draw a map of this, Sky wonders? Could he figure out where things used to be, if he can find the right landmarks?
Four grins at him over his shoulder, delighted by Sky’s happiness.
True to Four’s word, they’re not in the air long before Zeffa is banking, beginning a descent that for the first time in years makes a pang of disappointment rise in Sky’s gut. Goddess, he wants to go home.
Four lets him jump off when they get close, but doesn’t follow. Sky has a moment of panic before remembering Four definitely has a gliding item, he’s not trapped up there, and then Zeffa’s actually landing with the Hero of the Four Sword still perched on her back. There’s another blast of definitely wind magic as she touches down, cushioning what might otherwise have been a heavy landing. That explains it. Does that happen every time? Is it something Zeffa learned, since there are no sky islands to jump off of here? He’ll have to ask her, later.
“Where are we?” Sky says as Four swings off the loftwing’s back. The ruins they landed in are ancient and unfamiliar, but he thinks - he can almost understand the text carved into stone, if he tilts his head and squints. He doesn’t know this place - it just - echoes, somehow.
“The Fortress of Winds,” Four says. He hasn’t moved from the centre platform, still pressed up against Zeffa as he watches Sky move around. “This is where I first met Zeffa.”
“Uh huh?” Sky’s listening, he swears, but there’s something about the letters on this stone tablet, almost but not-quite the same as his own. If he squints just a little - no, maybe this way -?
Four comes over to tug on his sleeve again. “C’mere, I think you’re moving too much.”
They both sit in the shade thrown by Zeffa, as she spreads her wings to sunbathe.
“Are we waiting for something?”
“Shhhh,” is all Four says in response.
Sky gives up and settles in. With Zeffa’s wing breaking the worst of the wind, and her dusty feather-smell surrounding him, Sky’s the most relaxed he’s been in weeks.
Then he starts to hear something.
High-pitched chitters and whistles, the beating of small wings. Four had said there were no monsters left in the fortress, but that sure sounded like keese to Sky. Slowly, so as not to attract attention, he turns his head to peer around the edge of Zeffa’s wing.
His heart leaps into his throat and stays there.
Birds. Brightly coloured, greens and blues and oranges, perching on the rockwork and hopping around the lichen-covered floor.
Their beaks are short and sharply curved. They’ve lost the long, flexible tails that streamed out behind them in flight, replaced by a fan of feathers that seems impractically small. The feather banding is missing, the white and gold of the goddess and the contrasting partner flashings.
And of course, they’re tiny. Small enough to sit on an outstretched arm; the smallest could sit on his hand.
But the crests are still there, three wispy, curling feathers on the back of the skull that flex and stretch as they chatter amongst themselves. There’s still a flash of intelligence in their small, dark eyes. The nearest hops closer and chirps in greeting, and he feels a press of joy! and welcome! and sneaky, mischievous play? Play! Play with us!
Sky doesn’t realise he’s crying until the tears spill over in hot rivers. Four shoots him a worried look.
“They’re still here,” he chokes out, and smiles.
After everything, the loftwings are still here.
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Transfem Aventurine
relationships: -
summary: I think the title is self explanatory lol
cw: spoilers for 2.2 quest at the end. using she/her for Aventurine. Angst. Self hate, but tbh that's standard with Aventurine. Also a bit of Argenti at the end bc I love him and must squeeze him into every scenario possible.
a/n: Since it's pride month, here's me transing one of my favorite characters! I guess this could be sorta considered an Aventurine character study...? idk. Got way longer than I expected tho oop
wc: ~1k
Kakavasha who admired her sister more than anything else in her entire life. She was the pillar she leaned on whenever things got rough, she meant everything and more to her.
Her sister was just the most beautiful girl she ever knew, so of course she wanted to be exactly like her!
She'd grow her hair out as much as possible but every time it reached past her shoulders she was told to cut it.
"But I wanna be as beautiful as you, big sis!" but that usually led to an argument, and little Kakavasha hated fighting with her sister.
It annoyed her a lot but she listened to her big sis nonetheless.
-----
Aventurine who was given anything and everything when she joined the IPC. Riches and robes and authority, you name it, but none of that mattered, not when these were just new shackles she was forced to don
When she first returned to her new room she was taken back by just everything
Not only was her new wardrobe filled to the brim with fancy clothes but so many expensive products and many other items she could only dream of having before.
She didn't want to feel happy, not when these things costed her her freedom, but it was price she had already paid so was there any harm in enjoying it a little?
Aventurine who gets increasingly more frustrated when scourging through her wardrobe. suit, suit, suit, more suits.
It was only when she went though the nightwear section that she stumbles upon a single nightgown.
A humble shade of light blue covered it entirely. A very simple gown that had a few frills around the chest, arms and plenty around the bottom. There was even a cute little bow right below the neckline.
The material was smooth to the touch, almost definitely silk.
Aventurine couldn't believe her luck. Not a single dress to be seen and yet there was just one, one that she loved more than anything. One that was almost waiting for her to pick it up and put it on.
So put it on she did.
The soft fabric felt incredible on her, and for the first time she finds herself feeling beautiful in her own skin.
Of course, with a new dress, it was mandatory for her to do a little spin and watch the hems of the gown flare out like a blooming flower.
"At least...I can have this." She thought to herself, a small smile already on her lips.
That when she spots the various makeup products in front of the mirror. What's the harm in a bit more fun, right?
Excitedly she sits down in front of the mirror, hand already reaching for the lipstick in front of her. Aventurine remembers seeing quite a few rich women wear these, mainly in bright maroon colors so she picks a similar shade. To think she'd get the chance to try it too, she couldn't be more thrilled. I wish big sis was here. She thought to herself. I'm sure we'd have a lot of fun playing with these.
Carefully opening the cap she rotates the base to reveal the deep red wax. But when she looks to the mirror to guide her on putting it on she freezes.
Big sis? No...it was her own reflection. This having been the first time Aventurine had seen herself in years it was shocking just how similar she looked to her sister. Long tousled blonde hair sticking up in odd places, never having been taken care of during the entirety of her period of captivity. And those vivid bright eyes, how could she forget? The sight had been burnt into the back of her head after all, the very day her sister had been taken away from her she didn't look much different.
Immediately dropping the lipstick she snatches the scissors from the dressing table and holds it to her neck. Her hair had grown far past her shoulders, her sister would surely scold her, no? Relaxing her grip a little, Aventurine takes one last look in the mirror before closer her eyes and starting to snip away at her locks in frustration.
The scissors were haphazardly thrown on the floor which was now covered in tuffs of dirty blonde hair. Aventurine laid naked on the bed, the gown long been abandoned in the trash can. Choppy hair flares out around her head as she stared at the ceiling with a dead look in her eyes. The moment of joy was short lived and left her feeling even more disgusted by her own figure.
I guess...I can't have this either.
Aventurine now dresses the way she's expected to. While it pained her to throw away this side of herself, it pained her even more seeing her sister in herself everyday. The constant painful reminder of what she had lost would surely drive her to insanity.
Aventurine who now has one more reason to sacrifice herself in Penacony in the name of carrying out her duties for the IPC.
Aventurine who's Just. So. Tired.
-----
"Are you alright?" A concerned voice calls out. Aventurine lifts up her head to see an iron clad hand reach out to her. Looking further she notices the rose themes knight armor and the vibrant red hair. Who is this guy...?
"To think I'd find a beautiful young lady such as yourself in this forsaken place. Please, allow me to lend you my aid." The strange knight says.
"Beautiful young lady, huh...." She scoff to herself. She was far from that in her eyes.
"Indeed! Your beauty shines even in these dire circumstances, like a radiant star in the darkest of nights." Aventurine is a little taken back at this, the knight seems to have assumed she was talking about the 'beautiful' part but she doesn't bring it up. Graciously she accepts his help.
-----
Argenti mentions a beautiful young lady from the IPC akin to a peacock to the trailblazer and Firefly but it just confuses them. Sure, Aventurine fit the description of a peacock and he's also from the IPC, but a lady? They're both deeply concerned at the prospect of there being another stoneheart in Penacony.
-----
Aventurine lying in her bed after being rescued, wondering what she should do next. She certainly wanted to live, that's for sure. But maybe there's someone she could talk to about this.
Ultimately though, she decides not to. The IPC cannot be trusted, and she was just oh so tired of everything, all she wanted to do was to escape now and perhaps start on a clean slate. The current chapter of her life was one she was more than eager to close, but it seemed the universe (or rather, the IPC and a certain Galaxy Ranger) had different plans.
a/n: I think, Argenti is the kinda guy who can tell you're trans even before you realize it lol.
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This fic came straight from my feelings. I wasn't feeling very good, everything was overwhelming and i wanted to cry.
But it all inspired me well enough to write this fic, where Gale has a panic attack (so this is tw). Somehow making Gale feel at least a bit of what i felt, was very comforting to me.
Btw. This is UNEDITED (just letting you know and sorry)
Breathe, darling
He can't breathe. He's trying to catch his breath. Unsuccessful. He sees Bucky right in front of him, but he's blurry. He could recognise him only because... Well, who wouldn't recognise Bucky? With his broad shoulders and charming face. Dark brown curls, soft voice, whispering a low "are you okay?". He can see and hear those things, yet he can't bring himself to actually acknowledge them. His heart was pounding like it should jump out of his chest at any moment. His hands and legs were shaking. His fingers tapping on the mattress of the bed, unsteady and loudly. It was harder to breathe with every inhale he took. He was starting to choke. That's the first time he hears John's voice clearly.
"What is it? What's wrong, Buck?"
He couldn't get any words out. None of his senses were working. It was almost like he couldn't control his body at all. His eyes started to get watery and he felt tears were about to fall. He can't let that happen. Men don't cry. That's what his father always used to tell him. Men always have to be strong, crying is a weakness. It never occurred to him that Gale was merely a little kid, who just fell and had a bruise on his knee.
One wouldn't guess that trying not to cry would be this difficult. In his mind suddenly all he could think about was "do not cry, do not cry, do not cry", which made him want to cry even more.
While this was occupying his mind, he kind of forgot that he still needs to breathe.
"Buck, darling, you need to breathe, okay? You need to breathe for me, could you do that?"
And Gale could never say no, not when John calls him darling. Or any other pet name actually. It's almost a curse, John's words are sometimes too much for Gale. Too much love to bear. John took Gale's hand and placed it on his chest. Then placed his other hand on Gale's chest.
"Okay, why don't we try syncing our breathing, baby? Come on, up and down, just like me."
And so Gale tried. He focused on his hand on Bucky's chest and tried to match his breathing. Tried to catch his breath and get back to reality. Away from his mind. Away from his awful head. The worst thing is, even if John helps him to escape now... It's only temporary, he'll be trapped immediately again. Isn't it the saddest thing? Being trapped in your mind forever? How could people accept that and be okay with that?
Right now he wishes he could crawl into John's body, that his soul could intertwine with John's and that they'd become one. United forever. He quite likes the idea of John's protectiveness.
If he and John just could be together. But that's only if, and if belongs to fantasies and dreams. They both can't afford that, they barely have the time to afford whatever they're doing now.
"That's my boy, your breathing has calmed. Now let's keep it steady, yeah? Try to not get upset again, my darling."
John was about to pull his hand away, but Gale reached for his wrist and put it back on his torso again. He needed to feel John's touch, he reckons it might be one of the only things keeping him sane at the moment.
John understands. John gets Gale. It's the best feeling Gale thinks he'd ever feel. The way he and John know each other so deeply, their communication without words, they show their needs with a glance or an expression. Maybe after all their soul might as well be intertwined and if they're not they at least live next to each other.
And so John sits up next to him, standing up from his kneeling position in front of him and pulling him in for a hug. A very careful one though, he must have been scared to not squeeze Buck too much, especially after his trouble with breathing. Nonetheless, he wraps his arms around Gale's waist, rests his chin on his shoulder and leans his mouth into his ear. If Gale would have been in his right mind he'd have freaked out heavily, but he's sort of not in his skin, still high on his panic attack.
"What happened, baby?"
John whispered. And Gale couldn't care less for the world and the expectations put upon them. Right now it was only John and him. John who was holding him close and whispering to his ear, while slightly caressing his lips on his neck. He didn't kiss him though, his lips were just hovering over the area. Almost like exploring.
"It was- i... uhmm"
He still couldn't say a coherent sentence. Bucky can sense it and turns him, so they're facing each other. And with the softest, most gentle voice he said:
"I know maybe you don't wanna talk about this and I'll respect it, if you don't. But don't you think it'd be better for you to say it out loud? And you know, maybe just tell me. After all, it's me, Buck. It's only me. You can tell me anything."
It's Bucky, it's only Bucky. So he tells him.
"I'm uhmm- I'm not very sure. I just wasn't feeling well, it's just a lot. All of it, i mean. Suddenly the air was suffocating me like when you're too high in the sky and you don't have a mask on."
"Oh, I'm so sorry-"
"It's okay. You handed me the mask, at the very last moment. You saved me."
"I believe that's exactly what I'm here for."
"Are you?"
"Yeah, cause i couldn't live with myself if something were to happen to you. And because you don't deserve to feel like you don't matter anymore. Or that you're not loved. Because you are, Buck. I love you and care about you. And if you need me to help you put the mask on again, just ask me, I'll find it for you. And if your hands would be too weak, I'll put it on and I'll make sure you'll breathe again. I'm with you, always and forever. It's you and me, Buck."
And after that, there was nothing more to be said. Buck couldn't even think of words to match these. Or some that'd make a good response. But when Bucky's looking at him expectantly, probably waiting for him to say something, he manages a quiet:
"You and me, Bucky."
Which seems to satisfy John as he smiles and lies on the bed. They're alone here. It's late at night, but everyone's at the bar. They were there too until Buck wasn't feeling well and excused himself from the room. He ended here, in the barracks, choking and trying to find breathable air as Bucky came to rescue him. The other guys will probably come back soon. They should go both to their beds. But John is currently lying in Gale's bed. And what's he to do about that?
So he lay down, put his head into the crook of John's neck and nuzzled his nose to John's pulse.
"The others will be back soon."
Gale mumbled. But none of them move an inch. After a long while, John said:
"Yeah. Are you feeling better though?"
And Gale wasn't sure what to answer. Sure, right now he was feeling really fucking good. He was lying next to John with their bodies touching whole. But his anxiety has increased lately. As well as his panic attacks.
"Yeah, I'm feeling better. I'm good. Thank you, John."
He doesn't say any of that. John already thinks he's fragile. In a very specific way though. Bucky knows Gale is very strong and he is the most composed and all that stuff. But he also knows what's stuffed under all of that. And that's this. Because every emotion he pushes down goes down there and one day that place will explode and Buck has no idea what will happen to him then. He just hopes John will be with him.
A noise. They hear chattering coming closer to the barracks. John's body jumps up and he lets himself have a second to calm down. He then looks at Gale, with those beautiful blue eyes and whispers to his ear:
"I'm here whenever. Don't forget about me, love."
He licks the shell of his ear and Gale shivers as John's wet tongue meets his skin. It was a gesture, Gale didn't understand what it meant exactly, but John was telling him something.
When he hears a click and the doors open, John is dutifully sitting on his bed reading his book. Gale didn't quite understand how he got there, but it didn't matter. He probably dazed away, too occupied with the linger of John's tongue on his ear.
He fell asleep as he was replaying the sound of John's "don't forget about me, love" in his head over and over again. And he thinks, how could he ever forget? How on earth could you forget about John Egan?
You simply can't.
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