Tennessee Whiskey

Chapter 3: Arc 1 - Couch Potato

The rain outside only seems to grow heavier as the skies grow darker; or is that just Alfred's imagination feeding off of his own fear? The only thing that is clear to him now is to keep going; to get Yao to safety.

In his arms, a now conscious, but extremely unresponsive Yao stares off into nothingness, as if mentally checked out. With every frantic step, the mud is sent flying and he loses her balance more than a few times. This state of being, this foreign crisis, it's maddening.
His surroundings seem to be repeating; passing the same cars until he's able to reach his own. Everything is blurry from tears that keep welling up in his eyes. That, and the intense downpour seems to be fighting to keep Alfred from reaching his destination. How long has he been running? Was he just running in circles and loosing his mind at this point? Able to contain the adrenaline, he finally reaches his car and gently lays Yao in the benched backseats, taking refuge in the drivers seat to clear his thoughts enough to process all of this for a moment.

His breathing is ragged and uneven. His chest is hitching. He's too afraid to glance back at his comrade and see an absent expression. Alfred places his hands on his head out of stress for several several, taking in everything. He complies with the fact that he needs to head to hospice, gentle on the road to prevent further damage to the man.

Yao releases a feeble moan, a single tear trailing down the side of his eye. He's still in unspeakable pain, but is unable to express it well enough. Not only that, but he's angered with himself.

'I should've been able to take him on...he just keeps getting more powerful every time I see him.' Yao contemplates internally, fixating his gaze over to Alfred. Luckily he was on his side, so he wouldn't have to adjust his posture to see him, as if he could anyways.

He wishes more than anything he could get up out of his seat to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but not only was he incapable of doing so - he didn't know if things would be 'okay'. He knew for a fact he was paralyzed. His ears are ringing and his eyes are blurred, he doesn't know what's going to happen to him, he's never been this injured before.

He breathes a silent sigh through his nose and shuts his eyes once more, wanting to take a break from the situation in the only way he could.

"Yeah, dude, he's been asleep for like, two weeks...yeah I guess, but - wait! Holy shit, dude, I think he's getting up! Okay-c'ya-then-peace!"

A small noise awakes draws Yao from unconsciousness. A murmur.

"Yao?" The American chokes, looking down at the bed-ridden other. "Can you hear me?"

There's silence. Yao blinks sluggishly a few times and that's it.

Alfred grunts impatiently, getting eager at the first audible sound he'd heard since he found him.

"Okay, uh, if you can hear me...then blink once." He tries, almost holding his breath in anticipation. He brings his hand up to the side of the others face, gently.

Another pause, and Yao blinks again, weakly.

Alfred wants to be hopeful about such a small gesture, but instead finds himself frustrated. "Urgh! How do I know you didn't just blink for no reason? This is so weird... Alright, uh, blink if you're a massive nerd!" He keens, finding the situation already exhausting. He's practically plucking at his pants just to find a way to calm himself down. He waits impatiently for a reaction.