TO BE ALONE: a series of måneskin oneshots

hands (e.t.)

You had been at home all day, anxiously awaiting Ethan's return from rehearsal.

You kept yourself busy by catching up on some schoolwork for your master's degree. You were in the middle of drafting an essay when you heard the door slam shut.

"Ethan?" You called, saving your work and powering down your laptop. "You're home early."

You ran to him in the doorway, hugging him tightly as he set all of his bags down.

"Hi, pretty girl." He spoke, though you could feel tension in his muscles. "How was your day?"

"It was okay. Boring without you." You began, dropping out of the hug. "Got some work done for my classes, and...Baby, your hands." You gasp delicately, grabbing your boyfriend's hands in yours. His wrist, that always seems to be perpetually hurt, is quite swollen and there are bruises and blisters on his palms.

"Jus' a lot of rehearsin' today." Ethan mumbled. "Nothing big."

You looked up to him, fighting back tears. You scanned his entire face, looking for any signs of him lying. "If it's nothing big, then why are your hands all beat up?"

You knew he had a niche for taking any and all anger out on his drums, and consequently on his hands, wrists, and lower back.

"Tesoro, it's nothing." Ethan pleaded, trying to get you to just accept that fact. He pulled his hands from yours and kissed your head quickly, like he wanted to get away.

Ethan pushed past you, dropping the subject entirely.

You frowned in worry, watching him disappear to the bathroom. You heard the shower water begin to run.

You remembered that when his tendinitis first flared up, mainly from practicing too often and too hard, he'd ask for your help for everything. Many a night were you two sharing a shower and helping him wash his hair.

You were snapped out of your thoughts by your phone ringing. Damiano was calling.

"Hello?" You answered the call, trying yet failing to hide your worry.

"(Y/N)?" Damiano asked, sounding equally worried -- he wasn't hiding anything. "Did Ethan get home safe?"

You looked over your shoulder towards the bathroom. "Yeah, why?"

You could hear Damiano take a sharp inhale.

You immediately began feeling nauseous. "Damiano, if something happened at rehearsal you need to tell me." You demanded.

"Shit, it's just, (Y/N), there was a bit of a fight today. I was being an ass about everything and Ethan stormed out of here." Damiano explained, obviously terribly regretful of his choices. "I wanted to make sure he got home okay. He was so angry, when he left. God, (Y/N), I swore he was going to go crash the car to spite me."

At this, your heart broke. "Damia, what happened?"

Damiano put his head in his hands. "I just have had a bad day, and I just kept taking it out on Ethan. I didn't mean to. I just...shit." He muttered.

You bit your cheek. "It'll be okay. I'll talk to him, okay?"

Damiano nodded. "Thank you, (Y/N), I just wanted to let you know in case he was all rilled up still."

You nodded. "He just seems tense." You explained. "But he's taking a shower now. That'll probably relax him. I'll keep you updated. You stay safe now."

"You too, (Y/N), thank you." Damiano closed, hanging up the call.

You hung the call up and entered your bedroom. With not as much of a second thought, you grabbed pajamas and entered the bathroom.

"Ethan, baby, can I come in?" You asked, cracking the door open so he could hear you.

"I don't care." Ethan muttered.

You entered the bathroom and saw Ethan stepping into the shower. You removed your clothes from the day and added them to a pile to take to the laundry room. You stepped into the shower right behind your boyfriend.

Nobody spoke for the first few seconds you stood together. Ethan turned the water nearly as hot as it could go.

Ethan reached for the bottle of shampoo, but upon trying to grip the bottle to lift it, his wrist tensed with pain and the bottle fell to the ground.

"Cazzo!" Ethan exclaimed.

You grabbed the bottle and set it on the small shelf inside the shower. You wrapped your arms around Ethan's torso, feeling all of his tension melt out of his body.

You left the hug and grabbed the shampoo bottle. You poured some into your hands and rubbed your palms together so the shampoo began to bubble up.

"C'mere." You whispered. Ethan took the cue, remembering this routine from his first run in with tendinitis.

You began delicately massaging the shampoo into Ethan's hair. "Baby, what happened today?" You asked, your eyes focusing on your hands in Ethan's hair.

Ethan's head dropped. "I'm just a shit drummer." He whispered, resting his forehead on your shoulder for a moment.

Ethan sniffled and lifted his head, tilting back to wash the shampoo from his hair. He started to lift his hands, but you stopped him.

"Ah ah ah. Just relax, baby. Don't hurt yourself any more." You explained, lowering his wrists and washing the shampoo out with your own hands.

Your heart cracked as Ethan closed his eyes, biting back tears. You washed his hair quickly and you both got out of of shower.

"Ethan, baby..." You coaxed, once out of the shower. You had gotten dressed, but Ethan had frozen in his spot.

He had pulled his pajama pants on, but remained shirtless. He gripped the sides of the sink as he sobbed.

"Sweetheart, you aren't a bad drummer at all. What makes you say that?" You whispered.

Ethan shook his head, standing up. "It's always, 'Ethan, you're playing too fast,' or 'Ethan, play louder, play quieter,' or 'hold on, Ethan, be quiet, we're trying to think'."

You frowned. "Oh, honey." You held Ethan in your arms. "Baby, nobody means it. You are so appreciated in the band, just sometimes tensions get high."

"So I was just practicing so much, and then we just kept fighting, and I just left, and fuck my hands hurt." Ethan just broke down.

"Hey, hey, look at me." You spoke. "Go lay down in bed, okay? I'm going to go get you some ice and painkillers."

Ethan nodded, heading to the bedroom. You went to the kitchen and grabbed the items you promised.

"Baby, sit up for a sec, okay?" You coaxed, handing Ethan the medicine. Ethan swallowed the painkillers quickly and laid down. You gingerly pressed the ice to his wrists.

He snuggled up beside you.

"Damiano called me right after you got home." You explained. "He was real worried about you. He was worried you were going to get into a car accident from driving so angry."

"He did?" Ethan asked, his voice still wet with emotion.

"Yeah. He felt really bad about it all."

Ethan cuddled impossibly closer to you, settling down in his breaths against your body. "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"That sounds like a good idea, baby. Get some rest now."

~~~~~

WORD COUNT
1187

A/N: this is so rushed ah I'm so sorry!