this thing of darkness (i acknowledge mine)

the nightmare's just begun

me: this is a venom!flash fic

also me: *doesn't write venom showing up until almost halfway through the fic*

~*~

"I'm really sorry about our trip, guys," Flash said for the umpteenth time as they waited for their luggage to circle out. Were his friends tired of hearing his apologies? Probably, but that didn't mean he was ready to stop giving them.

Flash had been in the hospital for two days straight. At least, that was what the doctor had told him, seeing as Flash had been busy floating in and out of consciousness. And sure, once he'd woken up, he'd been fine and dandy! So fine and dandy, in fact, that the hospital had no qualms about sending him home right on schedule.

Of course, just because they'd released Flash didn't mean they'd had a damn clue as to whatever illness had unexpectedly afflicted him.

Elevated body temperature, bouts of nausea, rapid breathing—symptoms too imprecise to allow for a specific diagnosis, according to one of his nurses, yet generating just enough concern where Flash had been kept in the hospital strapped to beeping machinery that drove him up the fucking wall.

When he was conscious enough to hear those screaming, howling, agonizing beeps, anyway. He'd thought his ears were going to bleed.

"And we keep telling you that you don't need to apologize," Betty said, pulling her luggage off the baggage carousel. "Even if we'd only spent a fifth of our trip doing spring break things, there would still be no need for apologies."

They'd all taken turns waiting at his side, or so the doctor had informed Flash. And it wasn't that Flash didn't believe the doctor. In fact, he almost wished the doctor had been lying, because his friends shouldn't have been sitting in a goddamn hospital during their last vacation as seniors, they should've been out dancing or shopping or spending another day at the beach, anything but sitting and waiting for the best of the worst.

And you ruined that for them, didn't you?

Flash massaged his right temple.

"We care a lot more about your health and well-being, dude, than we do about some vacation," Ned said. He grabbed his and MJ's suitcases off the carousel, hanging MJ her bag before making sure his was zipped up all the way. "Besides, there's no reason for you to feel guilty. We'd pretty much gotten all our mileage out of the trip by Thursday."

Flash bit his tongue to hold back a sigh. He knew Ned meant well, he really did, but...

Ned had been the one at his side when Flash had woken up, actually. Flash couldn't recall a single word that came out of his own mouth, but he remembered clear as day the way Ned's eyes had lit up like a kid's on Christmas as he'd jumped to his feet only to lean down and give Flash a massive hug. Words had tumbled from his lips like a waterfall, how worried they'd been, consecutive sleepless nights, waiting for news—

But you do not deem yourself worthy of such intense concern.

Flash cleared his throat. "Still. I can't imagine any of you enjoyed being cooped up in a hospital."

Betty rolled her eyes. "Flash, you were the one attached to a heart monitor. I think we can unequivocally say you had the worst time of all of us."

Oh, she's got you there.

MJ placed her suitcase down to give Flash's hand a quick squeeze, her touch electric. "Forget the trip. We're just glad you're okay."

Was he, though?

Yes! In fact, with me, you are more than okay.

Flash hadn't mentioned the voice, this deep voice that reverberated like metal blades scraping at the inside of his skull. No, he hadn't mentioned the voice to anyone, and he wouldn't, not yet, not until he knew more, not until he'd either—either seen a psychiatrist or at least researched the symptoms himself. Schizophrenia didn't seem impossible?