Monsters start at coffee

Drowned out

The door was opened with trembling hands, and Tord's eyes met Tom's figure on the floor, swaying slightly. The hybrid seemed very much in the process of transforming into the thing, but not quite there; it looked as if he was resisting it. A couple of bruises and cuts adorned his skin, the scene making Tord's stomach turn violently as the other noticed his presence. A startled jump and Tom was up, breath hitching and hand clutching his own shoulder as if his life depended on it. "Tord!" His face - usually so stoic, now a grimace full of pain - seemed torn between being happy about seeing the Norwegian or hating him for where he's got them both into. It settled into the last option, unfortunately.

"Did they- Of course they did-" The words scrambled in his mouth, not following his train of thought. His shadow was projected into Tom's big, yet so small, form, melting into his otherworldly black eyes, doing nothing but highlighting his fragile state. 

"Th's isn't a res'rch center, is 'it?" Tom's voice came out broken, because he was, both physically and mentally. Anyone would be. A flash of pain passed through his face, and the hand on his shoulder strengthened its hold, as he did what Tom's always done: pretend he's alright when he isn't. Because he's strong, isn't he?

"You wouldn't come if I told you the truth!"

"It doesn't matt'r! Don't you th'nk you've lied e'nough?" Tom's head hurts and he wishes the argument would end soon. He felt his consciousness wanting to slip away.

Silence. 

Blood poured out of his shoulder, and it was starting to get him lightheaded. Tord didn't seem to notice, as he'd positioned himself so the wound was not visible to the other - he'd get this sorted out later.

"I'm... sorry"

"wh't?" Tom was so surprised - amused, even - that, for a second, he forgot the context of this argument and the pain he was in. "you don't apolog'ze."

"I'm trying to, okay!?"

"Th'n apolog'ze correctly."

"...what?"

Tom didn't even register what he said anymore, phrases coming out of his mouth unconsciously and thoughts wandering about in his mind.

"yeah... do- do a l'ttle dance, what'ver.."

"Tom, we don't have time for this!" 

Tord looked down and finally saw the pool of blood that rested just behind the hybrid, grey eyes then darting to his shoulder and realizing what happened. 

"Is that-"

"Don't touch me!" Tom yelled a bit too loud when Tord got closer to him, hurting his own poor ears. The norwegian, muttering a small "sorry", scrambled back a few steps, stopping only when his back touched the wall behind him.

"Okay, I won't! But-"

Tom's eyes widened in alarm, and in an instant, his clawed hand was clamped over Tord's mouth, swiftly pushing both back into the cell. Their bodies brushed together, the fabric of Tord's hoodie stained with blood from Tom's wound, and Tom's labored breath was hot against the Norwegian's skin. His mouth felt dry, wrong. The calm humming of a guard could be faintly heard in the distance. "They're back," Tom whispered, heart beating at full capacity and mind racing - he could barely maintain his conscience, using all of the energy left to protect them. Or to try, at least. If The Woman saw Tord here, she'd surely do it to him too.

Tord knew the guard was, most definitely, just a tired teen desperate for money who saw working here as the only option for survival, like he'd been. Most of the army's workers were. He probably woke up by Tom's yell, will take a quick look around, find nothing, and go right back to sleep if they close the door. There was nothing to worry about. Or at least he convinced himself so. But Tom's arms were tight around him, and he didn't have half the force to get out of his death grip. Had this been some years ago, Tord could maybe compete with the hybrid's strength. This is the present though, so the only thing he could do was struggle a bit and manage to choke a few words. "The door-"

Still, Tord's words were drowned out by the loud ringing in Tom's ears, the pounding of his heart, the pain in his shoulder, and the guard's tired voice. Everything became too much, and They were coming, the Woman was coming, and he couldn't breathe--

Tom tried so hard, he did. But he felt it coming, he'd felt it coming since Tord's arrival. Tom grips harder. He can feel and hear Tord protesting under the cacophony of sounds and feelings, but he can't stop. If he does, it'll come free and he won't be able to contain it back. Tom's not killing anyone again. Not now or ever.

With his free arm, Tord put his cold hand over Tom's trembling one - a desperate attempt to get his attention back. It was like the world stopped, the spot where they touched a connection back to reality, a safe point to him. "Breathe, please." 

Everything went silent again. 

Breathe in, breathe out.

It's alright.

And then it wasn't alright anymore, because they had made too much sound, or taken too long. The guard's humming was interrupted, and he stood just before them, slowly taking the scene in. They're here. Tom's breath hitched, and his hands instinctively clung to his screaming head, desperately seeking relief from the unbearable pain. It was escaping the mental jail the hybrid had put it in, and he could do nothing - something moved inside his skin, scales shifted, horns grew., the agony impossible. Red and black poisoned his vision, and he was out.

Next thing he knew, the guard was nowhere to be seen and some liquid had been forcefully shoved in his mouth.

Tord's hands shook as he offered the vial to the hybrid's mouth. This time, though, he did it on purpose.

This time it was the cure, not the cause.