On Love and Desire | ✔

4 | just not that way

CHAPTER FOUR - just not that way

Desmond was quick to shut their bedroom door and throw their head back against it. They slid down to the wooden floor and attempted to take in the deepest breath they could, but their binder made it awfully clear that it wasn't possible. They could barely even breathe in a normal manner in the first place. At that point they'd worn their binder for far longer than they should have; the entire day, from morning to midnight and beyond, rather than the recommended maximum of eight hours. Everything in their torso screamed for relief. They knew it wasn't healthy, not in the slightest, but to be fair, they also had been distracted by all the shit that was thrown at them the entire day. They'd never messed around with their routine before. They were usually careful with their chest binding since they always feared it would aggravate their asthma, or even worse, trigger an asthma attack or cause rib cage damage. On the bright side though, they didn't get to the point where they'd sleep with it on by accident. Hell knows what would've happened if that was the case.

Now that Desmond was in their room with no one to deal with, they could finally address the issue of their binder, so in a rush, they yanked off the stupid black grad grown, the fancy suit jacket and vest, the bow tie and button-down shirt, the undershirt, and finally, the literal breath-taking binder. They threw it all to the corner on the other side of the room, by their dying lamp and lonesome orange bean bag chair they'd grown out of years ago (and refused to let go of). Well, technically, the bean bag wasn't lonesome. There were three stuffed animals on it, all with their own sentimental stories to tell (yes, one of them did involve Mercy), but that didn't matter at the moment. The exact millisecond the binder stopped compressing Desmond's chest, a sigh of relief escaped from their lips, and when their hands were free from all the shit they'd taken off, they placed a hand on their chest and closed their eyes. Darkness faced them, but it was one they weren't afraid of. It was calm, meant for relaxation. Soft and kind. It gave them the space they needed to take care of themself.

Desmond inhaled through their mouth, held the air they'd taken in for five seconds, then exhaled through their nose until there was nothing to let out. They followed that pattern for a good while, and afterwards, they allowed themself to breathe as usual. They felt their lungs rise and fall. It was almost like how waves in the oceans of the world formed and then returned to where they came from, in their own rhythm. Surfers tripped over them. Desmond meant no harm but the sudden thought of it made a small chuckle sneak out of them. It was a deep, calm one. It was one that Desmond was able to feel emit from their chest through strong vibrations that touched the palm of the hand on their chest. The heat from their skin warmed said palm as well, which made the feeling all the more better. Desmond felt for the left side of their chest and hummed. The vibrations from their smooth, low-pitched voice, and the warmth of their skin, made the thumps of their overactive, skittish heart easy to find. Their hand lingered over that area, massaged it with care in a circular motion. As the hand did so, the beats of their heart settled down over time.

Desmond's chest no longer felt trapped or in pain. Despite that, they promised themself to not compress their chest the next day since they were better off not doing so. A rest day was needed. Maybe even two rest days because of what had happened.

Slowly but surely, they opened their eyes. Their eyelids were reluctant to move, they were comfortable. However, Desmond knew the faster they fought their eyelids' desire to not move, the faster they could throw themself on their very comfy bed and sleep for the night. Or rather, day? Desmond didn't need to find their phone to know for sure that it was way beyond midnight at that point in time; every now and then, they heard the usual morning bird calls. It was still kind of dark outside but birds didn't care about that.

As Desmond took in the view of their dimly-lit bedroom, their absolute best friend, they took off the neon green sunglasses Mercy had given them. They made a mental note to give them back later in the day and placed it on the light maple wood floor, next to themself. Some of the glitter on the rims of the fragile plastic sunglasses trickled down to their legs. They attempted to dust it off of themself at first but they were quick to give up on it. The glitter would all (ideally) go away once Desmond stood up from the floor or moved in some way, after all.