Regiphobia

The Scars

Goda had anxiety.

Now, that phrase in this context had two meanings. The first being that he'd been diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder when he was in therapy for around half a year. The second being that he was waiting in his room, staring at the door, tapping his foot and trying not to bite his nails, he knew how bad of a habit it was. Both yesterday and the day before, Juan hadn't spoken to him at all. No notes, no words, he hadn't even seen the other in the hallway. 

The paranoia was eating away at his stomach and he couldn't deal with it anymore. He stood, placing his crutches under his arms and leaving the room. He started roaming through the halls, just hoping he'd run into Juan. Maybe he was just busy, but wouldn't he at least leave a note or something? Anything? 

It wasn't that Juan hated him, right? He would've said something, or maybe he just hated him that much. Maybe he was injured, but then he'd be in the hospital wing and Goda hadn't seen him there when he stopped by to chat while he was bored. Maybe he'd left...? Maybe Goda was alone again. Maybe his decision had been made for him. Maybe he was screwed.

Goda knew he was overthinking. Maybe he should just go back.

Or maybe Juan was rounding the corner right then. Goda wasn't prepared for that, and it snapped him right out of his anxious state. As a minor consequence, he tripped over literally nothing. 

"G- Your Highness, are you alright?" Juan rushed over. He helped the other up, handing him his crutches.

"N- I'm f-fine, sorry-" Goda mumbled, getting situated. Now was his chance, he supposed. He pulled his note out of his sleeve, slipping it into Juan's hand as he got a hold on his crutches, "Thank you, Officer." 

He quickly headed down the hall, worry spiraling in his head as he made his way to the meeting spot. 

Juan looked after Goda, then down at his closed hand, a piece of paper inside of it. He kept walking to find somewhere to read it.

He ended up in a supply closet, opening up the tiny slip of paper. The handwriting was rushed and panicked. No capitals, no punctuation, nothing but those few, small words.

storage room 4

please

Juan's eyes filled with sadness. Had he done the right thing? Goda had sounded so small. Had he been wrong to listen to José? Of course not, it was his brother, but...

He crumpled the paper up, put the paper in his pocket, and walked out, now holding a tissue as if that's what he'd gone in there for.

He started upstairs, trying not to go too fast, despite how much he wanted to get there. As soon as the camera was angled away, he slipped into the storage room. It was silent. He started looking around for Goda, walking to the corners, then up and down the aisles of shelves until he heard Goda's quiet breaths.

He walked around the back of a shelf, taking a seat beside Goda. "Hey."

"Juan!" Goda lit up as soon as he saw him, hugging his arm and burying his face in the sleeve of the other's uniform, "I missed you."

"...Sorry I didn't stop by," Juan said softly, running a hand through the other's strawberry hair.

"It's OK, I'm sorry, I j-just missed you, I love you," Goda mumbled, relaxing against him as Juan put an arm over his shoulders.

"You don't have to apologize, Goda," Juan said, "I should've at least let you know I wasn't coming."

"No, it's OK, I just overreac-ct-ted," Goda said, "Just- Just p-please hold me, I love you."

Juan nodded, pulling Goda into a gentle hug. Yeah, maybe listening to Jose hadn't been the best idea. Maybe it had. He didn't know or care, all that mattered was that Goda was here and smiling and seemed happy.

Juan pulled back a bit, smiling up at the other. Goda returned the gaze, chocolate eyes full of love. He didn't have his suit jacket on, it was discarded off to the side. A couple of the buttons on his shirt were undone.

That's when Juan saw it. His smile fell as he lightly pushed the other's shirt collar out of the way. Goda's hand flew to the other's wrist, but it was too late. Juan's eyes were wide, and his heart plummeted to the floor.

Scratched into the other's collar, in very straight, neat, boxy letters, was two words.

YOU'RE SHIT

Juan looked up at Goda, who pulled away quickly from him, but the damage was done. "Goda..." he breathed out, eyes still wide as saucers.

"I- I-" Goda stumbled to his feet, shaking lightly in what seemed like fear.

Juan followed him to his feet, "Goda, what happened?"

"I c-can't-" Goda started, closing his eyes.

"You always say that but who's stopping you?" Juan said, taking a step forward.

"No, he'd- I'd g-get in trouble," Goda chokes out, stepping back and pressing himself against the wall.

"He? Goda, what's going on?"

"You d-don't understand-" 

"You always say that but you never tell me what's going on!" Juan said, voice raising a bit as his emotions got the best of him, "You've never given me the chance to understand, Goda."

"I'm-" tears were welling up in his eyes as Goda dropped his head, "I'm sorry, I can't, I'm not allowed, I'm sorry, I know I'm p-pathetic-"

Juan walked up to him, putting a hand on his cheek, "Goda, you're not pathetic. I just- I wish I knew what I could do. And... seeing that scar..."

He pushed Goda's shirt collar to the side again, looking at those words.

"...Are there others?" Juan asked softly. Goda was hesitant, but lifted his hand and shifted the other side of his shirt out of the way. Juan brushed over the scar there.

FUCKED UP

Juan stared at it for just a moment before leaning down and lightly kissing the spot, "Goda, you're neither of those things. I promise you. I don't know who told you that, or if you made that yourself, but you aren't. OK?"

Goda nodded, tears falling onto his cheeks. Juan pulled him into a gentle hug, holding him against his chest. "You're amazing, Goda. Whoever's trying to convince you otherwise is wrong."

Goda just leaned against him, trying to calm down. "I'm sorry," he whimpered, "I w-wish- I wish I could tell you... I j-just... I need time..."

"I understand," Juan mumbled, "We have time."

Goda nodded, leaning against him. Time. He told himself that was all he needed, but he also knew he was surprisingly good at lying to himself. He didn't know if that's what he was doing in that moment.