Or it was supposed to be. A few days ago Waylon brought the boys to hospital, standard check up, but they'd both been a little under the weather with all the moving and getting their new place set up. Thankfully it didn't seem like anything serious.
After that he dropped the boys back off at home with Lisa, who was still working hard going through the rest of the unopened boxes. All the little knickknacks that made a place a home. Then it was off to work, he was the new guy so of course he had to be the last one out, close things up. "New kid" hazing or something, who knows. Waylon doesn't mind, everyone has been pretty nice so far and if he's gotta be it for the first week or so, he can manage.
Locking up he'll pull out the keys for his car, phone in the other hand. Just checking texts from Lisa, asking what he wants for dinner. She's caving in and ordering something, because they're all pooped from unpacking and the last thing she wants to do is cook. Waylon smiles, starting to type an answer.
Let the boys pick.
But he doesn't get to hit send. Out of no where a pair of headlights blind him and the last thing he remembers is being hit. Hard. Thrown to the ground, vision blurring as pain blooms in his side and leg. The dark vision of a person stepping out of the car before he passes out.]
given the difficulties of his own upbringing, it might come as a surprise to see how gentle he is with regards to the offspring of others. perhaps he should resent them, hate them for being gifted with the joyous upbringing he was deprived of, but he keeps those thoughts shelved away in a basement deep, deep below his home.
like any respectable man, he wants to be a father. he wants to be the kind of man who can proudly lift his child above his head, allow them to wrap their dainty little legs around his shoulders, and squeal with joy. he'd be better. he'd be loving, and kind, and so unlike his own father — his father, for whom he holds nothing but a paradoxical sort of reverence.
fortune hasn't provided a family for eddie just yet, but it's soon coming, he's certain. his wife, his children, his american dream, all just around the corner.
closer now than ever before since laying eyes on his wife.
how she'd played so carefully with her children, two shy, bright-eyed boys in for their annual check-up. it was routine enough—ears, eyes, throat, —but eddie had carved every moment deep into his memory. the way her children huddled together, both uncertain and excited by the new environment. the way she, waylon, chuckled as they fought over the lollipop, and ruffled their hair as they turned to leave. she'd even chuckled at one of eddie's jokes as he'd administered the band-aid:
One of my most loving memories of my mother was when I scraped my knee and she kissed my boo-boo and put a bandaid on it. It truly stuck with me.
and her laugh, oh! her laugh! enough to melt the heart of any man, certainly a lesser one than eddie.
while it's true that she wasn't as feminine as the women eddie traditionally enjoyed — narrow where women are wide, flat where women are soft — eddie's certain that modifications can be made. modern medicine truly is a marvel and where that fails, well, eddie is terribly handy with a chainsaw.
it should shock no one, then, that he was overcome with the unshakable urge to ram her with his car.
women and their wiles; they make men do all sorts of things. you know how it is.
when waylon wakes next, he'll find that he's been brought to a small, dingy space. he's lying above a medical bed, no doubt stolen from the hospital, with a steady IV drip in his vein. unlike what he'd find in most hospitals, waylon will find that he's been restrained to the bed with straps across his chest, across his thighs. the straps are deliberate in their avoidance of waylon's hips, wrapped in gauze and bandages and barely covered with the edge of his hospital gown.
above him stands eddie, who appears simply beside himself as waylon opens his eyes. )
Darling! I thought you'd never wake again. How are you feeling? Where does it hurt?
[Coming to feels heavy and restricting, confusing.
Waylon's eyes flutter open, confusion furrowing his brow and vision blurred much like before he'd passed out. Where...? Maybe when was a good question, but disoriented as he is it's not something Waylon considers yet. A familiar face comes into focus slowly above him and there's a moment of relief that crosses his expression. The nurse from the hospital, so that meant he was...?
Shifting a bit in the bed Waylon, groans softly, looking down at himself.]
What...?
[Groggy, but starting to realize something might be off, Waylon tries to sit up, but can't. He's strapped to the bed? Wait- what did the nurse call him? Panic starts to creep up on him and his breathing picks up, struggling against his bonds as little as he can manage.]
Where... where am I?
[Vision clearing he can see that this is definitely not a hospital, even if he appears to be on a hospital bed and there's some equipment around that would be in one. There's a dull pain lower down in his body, but maybe he's been drugged? Honestly Waylon is still trying to piece anything together.]
Edited (i just woke up shhh will probably edit this fifty times) 2022-09-25 20:39 (UTC)
You've suffered an egregious amount of trauma. When you walked in front of that car, totally ignorant to your surroundings... Surely, I'd thought my heart would stop. God, how lucky you are I was near.
I'm a practitioner, you see.
( new place, new time, new job — according to the paperwork eddie had found in his bag, at least. maybe waylon was so worried about his work, he hadn't realized he'd walked into oncoming traffic. the poor thing, so stressed, so overworked.
eddie dabs a cloth against his forehead. )
Rest now. Sleep. You're safe now... I'll explain everything when you wake, my pretty thing.
[Walked in front of car? Waylon remembers the headlights, so bright, blinding and the blurred daze of pain before he passed out... he might have been a little distracted, but the parking lot was quiet, almost empty too, how would he have not noticed a car if he walked in front of it?]
No- I... my family I need...
[The cloth against his forehead feels nice, doesn't help with his confusion any. The way this man talks is strange too. Did he call him his 'pretty thing'?]
I need to call my wife, tell her what's happened. Please.
( jealousy spears through him like lightning. it had been wishful thinking to assume he'd been unattached. wishful thinking and, perhaps, selective attention. the multitude of messages from a 'lisa' with hearts and kisses in their contents — eddie had chosen to believe she was little more than an inappropriately attached sister and not, as he'd feared, a wife.
no, he's been mistaken. they've both been mistaken. there's no wife here.
the only marriage within this room is waylon's impeding marriage to eddie and eddie alone. )
Come now. Surely you haven't forgotten that dreadful business with the fire? Unless... ( eddie's face contorts into sympathy. ) No one's told you? Of course they haven't, leaving me to bearer the bad news on my own, the brutes.
Waylon, my love, I'm so terribly sorry. You've been unconscious for so long... so much has happened.
[Lisa had always been so affectionate, in person, in messages. Always, even just something small like a little heart, which is why her name in his contacts was Lisa ♡. Definitely not a sister, most definitely his wife.
The things this nurse tells him don't feel right, it all feels wrong and Waylon struggles uselessly against the bindings only to gasp out in pain. A sharpness at his hip, it feels wrong. Why is he strapped down? All confused foggy thoughts that slosh together as his brain registers that the man is mentioning a fire...? Dreadful business with the fire.
No one's told you?]
What do mean? What's... please I just need— my phone, I just need to talk to Lisa, the boys. Please.
[Panic spikes in him because there's so much wrong about this, but in his current state it's hard to put it all together yet.]
It's too much, darling. This is all too much for you. I knew it. Damn! I knew it! ...At this rate, you'll spike your blood pressure.
( says the one growing louder by the moment, clearly more in danger of a blood pressure related mishap than waylon is.
fortunately, he has just the thing for this. when he turns away, waylon can see more of the room that was previously blocked out by eddie's broad back. it's absolutely, positively not a hospital. the space is more akin to a dungeon — wide, and empty, and dank. in the far corner sits a sewing station of some sort, and scraps of fabric line the ground in the space between here and there.
eddie turns back, and he's flicking the air bubbles from a needle as he does so. )
Just a sedative, my love. Nothing to fear. Something to put you at ease, nothing more.
[Darling, my love, my pretty thing. All alarm bells that ring in Waylon's head, deafening as he's able to get a slightly better look at the room he's in. What is that... a sewing... machine? Where is he?
What the hell is going on? His attention is drawn back by Eddie turning to him with a needle in hand and again he'll struggle a little, most trying to free his arms, even if it's clearly futile.]
Don't- please.
[Waylon shakes his head, breath coming short and fast.]
eddie saved him, and what thanks has he gotten in return? ever since waylon opened his eyes, he's not said a positive words towards him. he's only spoken of lisa, lisa, lisa. where was lisa when waylon stepped before that damnable car? where was lisa when eddie cradled waylon's limp body in his arms, praying to a merciful god for his health? was it lisa who brought waylon into the kind warmth of her home? was it lisa who monitored waylon for hours, watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, snuck kisses between his brows and along his lips in an effort to kiss his injuries away?
NO!
the force with which the thought comes to him is violent enough for eddie to snap the delicate needle in his hand, sending glass, liquid, and metal shards all skittering to the ground. )
Waylon, dearest, this isn't working! ( in a rage, he throws his hands down against the gurney, likely jolting waylon's shattered bones in his haste. deep breath. deep, deep breath... )
I want to be good for you, I do, but how can I be the best man I can be when you vex me so? How can I heal you when you... when you refuse me even the slightest appreciation?
( he takes a cloth from the pocket of his scrubs and dabs at his own forehead this time, needing a moment to cool himself. )
Lesser men would have left you in the street, you know? They would have allowed you to die there, indifferent to your pains. I brought you here of my own accord, and all you can think to speak about is... is her?
[The needle snaps, there's the shattered glass of the syringe and Waylon doesn't even get a second to brace himself for the anger aimed at him before Eddie is jostling the hospital bed, probably not even on purpose. It still hurts, still send a jolt of pain through him that makes him wince, furrows his brows in a agony as the nurse berates him and is angry that he's asked to speak to his wife.
It's... not a lot to ask is it? But this isn't a hospital, this is something different, something bad and this man is not well.]
I-I'm sorry, I should have thanked you. I should have.
[It dawns on him that this man met his children, probably had easy access to personal information about his family... had he hurt them? He'd mentioned a fire. What about a fire? God. His head swims with pain and it's a little hard to focus, but he has to.]
Eddie, right? I remember you... you were very kind before.
[Waylon speaks soft, kindly, though it's hard for his voice to not waver. Hard to not be scared.]
Th-Thank you for taking care of me. I'm very lucky, I'm so lucky.
( it takes a second for eddie to de-escalate, but waylon can see it when he does. the rise and fall of his chest steadies, the wild look of pure rage in his eye settles. he's not looking at waylon; he's looking off to the side. in truth, he doesn't want to look at waylon, to disgusted with him for the moment. as it passes, that sense of grime passes from waylon to himself. he knows, both on the surface and deep within, that this is no way to treat a woman. yelling, shaking, cursing: that's brute behavior, and eddie is no brute.
when his eyes finally slide to waylon's face, that's a calm there. genuine, not forced. )
I'm not a monster... but when you act this way, when you bring this out of me... My love, I don't want to harm you, but... but you know how it is. Love is such a strange thing.
( outburst gone but clearly not forgotten, eddie crouches to waylon's side and presses a kiss to his cheek. )
You remember me? Truly? My name... Hearing it from your mouth, oh, how it makes my heart soar. Say it again, Waylon, please, my dearest. Once more...
[O-Of course not. Eddie's not a brute, he's a gentleman. He was so kind and gentle with his boys. God his boys. Lisa... are they okay? Waylon's eyes squeeze shut when Eddie is right beside his face, when he kisses his cheek.]
I'm sorry, Eddie.
[Waylon can hear his voice shaking still, hopes it doesn't make him upset.]
Eddie.
[He'll say his name again, less for Eddie and more to get his attention. Not that he doesn't have it already.]
You said something about a fire...? What— did something happen?
( his eyes roll back, tripped up on the pure ecstasy that is hear his name roll of his lover's tongue. perhaps he moans, low and deep, but perhaps he doesn't because someone doesn't know how to keep up a mood. )
Fire? ( he sounds annoyed to talk about it. jesus, waylon, can't you tell he was trying to get off over here? ) Yes, of course. The blaze. Shortly after you arrived here, a terrible fire overtook your home. No one survived.
...My family suffered a similar fate. Not fire, though, but just as tragic.
( he pauses to drape a hand across waylon's shoulder, unable to do much more with waylon strapped down as he is. )
In that regard, you and I are all we have left in the world.
[What mood. The horror of the situation he's in right now? Waylon can keep up that mood easily.
No one survived.
The words seem to echo in his head, the rest of what Eddie says dulling into nothing as Waylon feels nausea wash over him. Nausea and grief, thoughts of his sons burning to death... Lisa... it's a lie, it has to be. They're not- it's... god.]
No—
[It's a broken sound more than a word, breathing picking up into sharp little gasps as Waylon starts to weep. Fingers curl into fists as he'll struggle a bit in his bindings and even as Eddie terrifies him his face still turns towards him for some kind of comfort in the moment. He's not sure why.]
They can't be... please...
[It's a lie, please tell him it's a lie please say sike.]
( this hurts eddie far more than it hurts waylon. to see his love so tormented, so miserable, it's as if he's taken on that pain as well. he has to shut his eyes to block the image of waylon from his field of view, too overcome by their shared emotions to bear it. when he opens them, his eyes glisten with the threat of unshed tears. )
I know, my love. This pain, it feels unbearable. If you considered ending it all in order to join them, I'd understand completely. ( sir?? this is a wendy's??? ) But you must understand that I'm here for you. I'll heal you, your body as well as your mind, darling.
I swear it.
( where waylon's hand shifts against the restraints, eddie grasps it, his fingers large and cool against waylon's. )
Like this, we're broken. But in time, we'll mold one another into something beautiful.
[What if it's not a lie? What if they're really dead? Eddie says something unhinged about him possibly ending his life, that he'd understand. If his family is gone then what does he have to struggle and fight for? Should he even try?
But then... if it's a lie...
Through the tears and the sobs he feels a hand take his and any other time it would be a comfort, but not this time. A dreadful thought comes to him, it's too convenient all of this. Waking up here after being hurt and then his family burn to death in their new home?]
Was- ngh, was- was it you?
[Sorry, hard to talk between sniffles and trying not to be a weeping mess.]
( tears... eddie could do without tears. he understands, though. at least, he's seen it in movies. when something sad happens, people cry. eddie's gotten pretty good at crying as well, namely through practice and youtube exercises. now is as good a time as any to put those skills to use, and when he looks to waylon, a tear rolls down his cheek. )
You're in shock... Darling, you don't know what you're saying.
( if it's too much too soon, his bride might get the wrong idea. eddie isn't one of those men. he can take a hint. he's not a brute. so, if she isn't ready to be called by his chosen nickname, eddie can wait. he's waited this long, he's certain he can wait however long it takes for her to go comfortable in her skin. )
I'll be leaving you. You need the time to rest, and I need to take care of errands. Any preferences for dinner?
( not his role of choice, but with his wife currently out of commission, eddie has no choice but to take on the role of the provider as well as the nurturer. )
[Waylon will be a much better wife after some grieving and healing. Of course of course. It's good the Eddie understands, what a good husband.
Part of Waylon doesn't want to be left alone here... here? Wherever here is. Yet at the same time having a moment of reprieve from Eddie's company and his madness might be better for him. He thinks about just not answering his question, but would that be better or worse than saying he's not hungry? Eventually after some quiet contemplation, "quiet" accompanied by crying of course.]
I'm not hungry...
[He'll sniffle loudly, trying to clear his nose. God he wished his hands were free so he could wipe at his face, it's a mess.]
( even eddie's love-goggles aren't enough for him to dismiss the mess of tears, snot, and drool on his wife's face. he grimaces as he lifts a stray piece of fabric from the ground and uses it to clean off waylon's mess of... fluids... he does his best not to look too disgusted, and he's rather gentle with his downstrokes, but it's still pretty gross.
regardless, a man should be prepared to love his wife through thick and thin, even when she's looking almost too gross to touch. )
Nonsense. I'll prepare a soup for us both, the way mother used to. It will do wonders for your recovery.
( when he's done nearly suffocating waylon with his cleaning cloth, he folds it neatly like a handkerchief and presses a kiss to waylon's temple. )
Rest easy, now. I'll let the television play in my absence.
( too much tv rots your brain, but waylon can watch some. as a treat.
at the far side of the room, an ancient boob-tube sits stacked with VHS tapes and antenna. someone should tell eddie about the advent of satellite tv. for now, waylon will have to settle for a classic episode as eddie stalks away. the tape has seen so much usage, it skips and whirs at certain parts, but hopefully waylon gets the point. )
[Sometimes a wife doesn't look perfect and impeccable, Eddie. Sometimes they look ugly and down trodden. Maybe because of their husband! Waylon would almost be thankful for the kindness(?) of him cleaning up his face, but it was Eddie's fault to begin with wasn't it?
Left with a black and white cheery old good times episode of I Love Lucy, Waylon doesn't exactly feel any better once his captor is gone. He'll be back, there's a promise of it in what he says about dinner. Once he's sure the other man is gone he'll struggle, trying to get his arms free, but they're tight, suffocatingly so. It doesn't help that moving hurts, but while that's true he doesn't want to stay here, doesn't want to be locked up by some crazy madman.
He needs to get out, get back to Lisa. The boys. They can't be dead. The fire has to be a lie. Something to break his spirits. As Waylon struggles he listens for Eddie coming back, hopes it will take him a while to make that soup he was talking about. With some struggle, a lot of struggle, wincing in pain and trying not to make any noise, he does at last get one arm freed.]
C'mon...
[Fingers fumble with the straps as he tries to free himself, but it's not easy with just one hand.]
( true to his word, eddie leaves. he actually, really leaves, but it wouldn't be unfair for waylon to have his doubts. fortunately, waylon hasn't given eddie any reasons to doubt him. why would waylon try to escape? the thought hadn't even crossed eddie's mind.
while waylon is panicked, alone, and strapped to a table, eddie compares the prices on soups and asks a helpful store employee for the best preparations for chicken-and-rice soup. he response is disappointing enough for him to question her femininity, but he's in a good enough mood to keep those thoughts to himself.
back home, waylon's got about an hour to make any attempt he's going to make. a free arm is enough to work at the leather straps and maybe, maybe free himself, but movement is going to pose a new challenge with what's going on beneath the sheet that covers his lower half. it's painful, whatever it is. )
[Here Waylon is scared that Eddie is just upstairs or... where ever he went to in the house. He can't tell if this is in some basement or maybe it's a renovated room on another floor of a house, who can say. Eddie is gone, he can assume in the kitchen and so he's fighting with the straps keeping him held down as quick as he can.
Quick isn't as quick as he'd like, but he does finally manage to get his other arm freed after what feels like forever. Sitting up is agonizing, everything feels like it hurts and as much as he tries to be quiet, it's hard to stifle the pained noises that escape him. It's another struggle to get the other straps off, again it feels like it's taking forever, probably is, his head keeps turning to look over at the door, listening for heavy steps coming back.
The pain should be enough to make him lay back down and stop struggling, but he's been hit by a car and kidnapped, yes he's calling this a kidnapping, even if Eddie thinks he's helping Waylon. Wouldn't anyone else do whatever they had to to escape, even if it meant hurting themself to achieve that? So Waylon does, fighting through the pain moving creates until he's managed to get all the straps undone. Everything changes when he tries to get up and walk though. He all but crumples to the floor, crying out, agony lacing through his entire body.
Guess he won't be walking, time to start pulling himself along the floor with his arms, suffering the entire way.
( shopping is horrid, naturally, because each moment away from his wife feels like an eternity. eddie simply can't wait to load his modest hatchback up with brown paper bags and make a beeline back for his newly shared abode. if he breaks a few speeding laws along the way, who could blame him? he has someone waiting for him! a paramour! a love!
rules be damned, he' in love.
so, imagine his surprise when he stomps inside, down the stairs, to find his love in a crumpled heap on the ground. )
Darling, couldn't you wait for my return? I imagine were terrible antsy. I'll admit, I was too. I thought only of you during my excursion...
( he doesn't question how or why waylon's ended up on the ground. in his mind, the girl just got herself so worked up that she flung herself off the bed in an effort to bring them closer together. )
Apologies, my love. This might sting.
( and then eddie is hoisting waylon up from the ground with muscles that seem to contradict the delicate work of a medical worker. lifting patients all day might have something to do with it, but it can't explain all of his bulk and brawn. once he's in the air, eddie is as gentle as possible when he lays him back onto the bed. )
Rest now, Waylon. Overexerting yourself is no good.
[When his captor stomps back downstairs Waylon expects the worst. Anger and vitriol, maybe he'll be killed for trying to escape?
And yet... Eddie is gentle, apologizes for the pain he'll cause Waylon as he lifts him from the ground to place him back on the hospital bed. Much to his darling husband to be's delight, one would imagine any way, Waylon clutches at his shirt while in Eddie's arms. What a strong broad chest and shoulders, muscles any woman would swoon over.]
I'm sorry—
[Waylon will sob in pain, mostly to try and placate any anger there may be lingering under all the care that Eddie provides him. Obviously he wasn't trying to get away, he just fell out of bed, yes. That's all it was.
The bed is more comfortable than writhing on the floor, but he's not in any less pain.]
What's... something is broken, something is wrong.
[Maybe Eddie can at least tell how fucked up his is from the "accident". Waylon can tell something is broken, otherwise he'd have been able to walk, but his body couldn't even support him trying to stand. Was it his legs? Hips? Both? Maybe there was something wrong with his spine. Fuck, would he ever be able to walk again?]
( the swell of lust and longing he feels as his lover clutches his chest is enough to make his knees weak. a lesser man may have dropped waylon right then and there, but eddie is strong enough to power through until his lover is safely upon the bench, wherein he goes about feral with need and has to force himself to look away from waylon lest he do something he'll come to regret. )
Darling... Be mindful, now. It's clear that you don't realize the affect you have on others, but should a man come along with less resolve than I...
( he clears his throat, fully composed, and looks but in time to catch waylon's inquiry. despite his regain sense of self, he can't help himself from leaning over waylon as he speaks, admiring the subtle curve of his jaw, the smooth work of his lips. at the mention of what's broken, he allows his gaze to travel down the expanse of waylon's torso, no less salacious. he could try to be more subtle about the way he's eyeing waylon up, but, well, you know how it is. a man can only be responsible for so much. )
That grisly business with the car, I'm afraid. It's shattered you. But... it's not something that can't be rebuilt.
And, of course, I had to take care of those unsightly things down below, make a space to welcome our family.
( then, he stands. )
Chicken, my dear? Tell me you aren't one of those vegan types. I haven't the fridge to accommodate you now, but I'll find some way to make do.
[Waylon is feeling a whole lot of feelings right now, that mixed up with the immense amount of pain he's in is a rotten cocktail of what the fuck is even going on right now. He wished he would pass out at this point, maybe he should have let Eddie stick him earlier, because in one moment Eddie is talking like he, he being Waylon, is trying to seduce him through some womanly wiles.
He can see the way he looks at him and he just wants to disappear. However that might be.
At least he's... kind of given an answer? Shattered. So broken bones, bones that will heal in time. How much time? How long will he be stuck here until he can plan an escape, because as shattered as he is right now, perhaps that little escape attempt of his had been stupid.]
What...?
[Confusion and pain pinch his features. Unsightly? Make space to welcome our family? What in the hell... he's not in the right mind to process what any of that means. Or maybe it's the pain. Both.]
No I'm not— I don't think... I'm not really hungry.
[And he'll reach out, grab for Eddie's arm.]
I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten up, b-but it hurts. Please do you have anything...?
[For the pain. Medicine? Hit him hard enough to knock his ass out? Something.]
( eddie is speaking as if waylon is trying to seduce him because waylon is trying to seduce him, very blatantly. those bright eyes and parted lips, goodness, she clearly doesn't know her own strength, does she? )
Darling, nonsense. You haven't eaten all day.
( he begins to turn away, but fingers against his arm are enough to make his heart melt. his dearest, his love, reaching for him because she knows nobody else will care for her this way. no one else will look out for waylon, will love waylon, even with her shortcomings. eddie loves her enough to stick with her through this dreadful transformation process. a lesser man wouldn't bother.
it's not easy to become a woman, but eddie will be here through it all. )
After you eat. I know you may have your reservations, but you'll wither away to nothing without a meal in you. I can give you something then.
( no room for discussion there. he pulls his arm away before waylon can suck him in further, and he descends up the stairs, away from his love, though each step feels like a knife through the heart. )
[It feels like he has no other choice at this point. Even if Eddie hadn't come back when he had how far would Waylon have made it out of this room? Could he even have?
His captor insists that he eats, that only then will he give him some relief. What else can he do but comply, not that Eddie gives him a choice in the matter. Waylon watches him leave and wants nothing but to curl in on himself, but such movement would only hurt his already fragile feeling body.
He's done enough harm to himself today as it is. So like a good wife, he'll lay there, awaiting Eddie's inevitable return.]
( fortunately, eddie won't deprive waylon of his presence for too long. how long does it make to throw together some soup and sandwiches? ten minutes? twenty minutes, tops? eddie takes about that long, but with his added breaks for regaining his composure [waylon really is just too much] and scorning the fact that he's in the kitchen at all, it rounds out to being closer to thirty.
by that point, the door can be heard creaking open followed by heavy footsteps padding down against old hardwood stairs. eddie has an apron on, which looks silly and strangely charming, and he balances a tray of food in one hand. atop it are the promised sandwiches and a bowl of hearty soup, but there are also freshly picked flowers and a vial of one can only pray is some kind of pain reliever.
he sits at the side of waylon's bed. )
Don't try to sit up, love. You'll strain yourself.
[Eddie could have taken two minutes and it would feel like an eternity. There's no clock or way to tell the time down here and with no windows either he can't tell if it's day or night. The seconds crawl slow and by the time Eddie returns Waylon wonders if he won't start to go crazy left alone like this in his suffering.
He doesn't need to be told not to sit up, it hurts too much to even consider it. Before he'd all but tossed himself on the floor the pain had been much less, now it was all encompassing. Laying there is about all he can do.
Waylon notes the flowers, it would be sweet if things weren't... well. Like they were. The vial catches his attention next. Medicine? Something take help with the pain? To put him to sleep? The sooner he behaves, the sooner he can have that. Waylon nods, eyes darting over the soup and sandwiches, they look good actually, but he can't find it in himself to be hungry. Not now.
Still, when Eddie does help him to eat, he'll behave. Chew and swallow down what's given to him, even if his stomach twists in pain and nausea.]
( wow, eddie is just in heaven, isn't he? his dutiful, lovely, bonny wife is eating the dish he prepared for her, taking delicate bites as not to upset appearances [or her stomach, but that's less important]. while she eats, eddie smiles and does the things that all good men do, like check her vitals and dab the sweat from her brow with a cloth. )
My darling, you'll heal so quickly, you won't even know it. You'll be back to your delicate, beautiful self in no time... Aren't you looking forward to it? To being whole? To being with me? Being safe and nurtured away from the wickedness of the world? Here, nothing can harm you. You'll be filled, and loved. The emptiness inside of you won't cry out to me for much longer...
( where else would waylon be? where else could he be? with no family to return to, and a world who thinks he's either missing or dead, he's better off staying right here by eddie's side. )
As promised, a mild sedative to help you rest... This will pinch, my love. Apologies. But soon, you'll feel nothing at all.
[By the time Eddie has considered him fed enough Waylon is beyond miserable. He just wants to feel nothing.]
Yes—
[His voice wavers, let's not start weeping again, c'mon Waylon. The yes could be an answer to Eddie's questions, but maybe Waylon is just looking forward to being healed. To not hurting anymore. Or it's the sedative he's happy for. He doesn't even feel it, but looks at the man who seems so eager to care for him.]
Thank you...
[For giving him some reprieve from the pain. Sleep blessedly doesn't take long to come after that. For some days that's how it goes. The pain is too much for him to sleep on his own, Eddie has to sedate him to give him any real rest. Waylon doesn't know how many days he's been here, at least not at first. After some time he's able to start figuring out ways to keep track of it.
The times Eddie comes down, the extended periods of time when he's not here, must be at the hospital, must be working... when he's home and taking care of his needs. It becomes a pretty set schedule more or less. Except on Eddie's days off. He sees much more of him then.
Honestly he's started to prefer his presence, because left to his own thoughts he might just go crazy. Sometimes he's left in silence and that's the worst, other times Eddie leaves programs on for him, old black and white tv shows with the perfect nuclear families and the doting wife and hard working husband. Usually at least one child if not a daughter and a son. Studious god fearing people. He's memorized some of the episodes by now, it seems to depend on how Eddie feels that day which show he has him watch, which episodes he leaves him with. Some he's only seen once, other multiple. Does it mean anything?
The pain has lessoned enough that he can shift on the bed some, even lay on his side if he wants, which is nice. He's always been a filthy side sleeper. Waylon is pretty sure he's been here at least three weeks... probably a little more than that, but that's just a rough guess from what he thinks are the days going by. He's close. More like a month.]
... how was work?
[It's dinner time again, Eddie always brings him down dinner on a tray in his apron. His mind thinks it's so nice of his husband to do this for him while he's healing... wait his husband? No— no that's just what Eddie calls himself, they're not... Waylon skewers a piece of chicken on his fork with some green beans, before bringing them to his mouth. He can much more easily sit up on his own now too, feed himself. Though Eddie still will dotingly wipe at his face if he happens to make a mess.]
You've been late the last few nights, are they short staffed?
Oh, always. Margery, the useless cunt, calls off whenever she pleases. Five new admissions, three new hires from the agency who don't know their pretty little heads from a collection of holes in the ground... But you don't want to hear any of that. The details of caregiving would bore you to tears, I'm sure.
( it's been beautiful to watch his love grow better by the day. like watching a plant sprout from a seed, each new day sees waylon taller and stronger than the day before. he'd like to take some credit, but every good nurse knows that it takes more the medicine and well wishes for a patient to get better.
it's waylon's drive to see them as a family unit that mends his bones better than before.
eddie hardly has to assist waylon with his meals these days. he misses the days when his wife was wholly and utterly dependent on him, but he loves to see how far she's come. he loves her, as every man should love their beloved. )
After you've finished your meal, we'll bathe you. It's time. You're beautiful, but I imagine you're positively grimy beneath those bedclothes of yours. Afterwards, we'll watch a nice film while I take your measurements. Snow White feels suitable, but a tale of a slutty woman who shares her home with seven slovenly men isn't the kind of message I'd force upon you.
[Weirdly enough, even though Eddie thinks it would bore him, he'd rather he did talk about his work more. It gave him less time to say other things. Like them having a family and how Waylon will be so good at caring for their children, he's seen how good he is with them after all.
With his boys... Waylon swallows down any thoughts of them for now. Getting upset won't make things any easier for him here. That much he's figured out. His head lifts from where he's started to stare off at his dinner absently, blinking a bit owlishly.]
My measurements? Oh... guess I can't stay in this hospital gown forever. I could give you my clothing sizes.
[Though Waylon wonders if they would be accurate now. He's definitely lost weight since coming here. Not that Eddie is starving him or anything, but his appetite hasn't been the best with his injuries and the pain.
He doesn't question the bath, a bath sounds divine honestly. He's been kept down here for weeks and while Eddie has done a little clean up here and there, with a warm washcloth and hands that still surprise him with how gentle they can be... it's not the same as a shower or bath. Being able to wash his hair would be so wonderful.]
Hm... I didn't see it that way, she was a kind young woman who helped them be better. Took care of them.
[Let's be real, Snow White was still a child too, but shh we won't talk about that. Waylon eats a little more, mopping up the gravy on his plate with his chicken.]
She'd lost everything and just wanted to live, they gave her that safe place to do that.
[Deep discussions of Disney princesses in the Gluskin household.]
( eddie will indulge his beloved in any whimsical topic she chooses. whether it be the constitution of disney princess, ghosts and goblins, or the fate of what he's come to know as waylon's 'previous' family, eddie is open to every silly, inconsequential, useless, grating, hideous, knobby-kneed, flat-chested, split-ended, high-waisted thought named lisa park that pops into waylon's head, even if the syllables make eddie want to drive a blade through his darling's chest.
after all, to be a man in love is to suffer.
understandably, disney talk is more palatable by comparison. )
My love, it's only natural that you'd see things that way. You're a good woman with a good heart. It's a gift and a curse. It makes you have trouble seeing things for what they are... but I can help you.
( case in point: had waylon been a worldly woman, she might have seen eddie's car coming from miles away before it ran him over she walked in front of it. her innocence is a draw more than anything. eddie finds it sweet that waylon finds meaning in the story of snow white, even if she is completely and utterly wrong. she's like a child who's mispronounced something, but is too adorable to correct.
when it seems like waylon's finished the majority of his meal, eddie seats his plate aside and gingerly hoists him into his arms. perhaps they'll work on crutches, or a wheelchair in the future, but eddie thinks walking lessons can wait until waylon isn't, as his mother would say, grimy. )
It's a shame that you haven't seen the rest of our home sooner. I felt it more important for you to regain your strength rather than bog you down with doors and hallways... but, well, better late than never.
( carrying waylon up from the basement to the first floor is easy work for a big, strong man like eddie. the living room and kitchen they pass are idyllic, with a newspaper resting by a burning fire and a kettle of tea simmering quietly on an immaculate stove. beyond the backdoor, maybe, waylon might see mounds of freshly turned soil, but never mind that.
the centerpiece of the living room, naturally, is a giant gown in a half-state of completion. )
[Excuse you? Lisa is a beautiful and kind woman, how dare you? But Waylon has been mostly good about that... mostly. He's asked a few more times since his first waking day about his family, about Lisa. The boys. The fire Eddie spoke about, but it always makes him tense, annoyed, upset.
He stopped asking because he can't even be sure if what Eddie does tell him is true or not. Something to placate him or make him think he has nothing but his captor to lean on. It's easier to do his best to stay in Eddie's good graces and heal. Believe that his family is okay, that they're even looking for him all this time. They have to be okay. They have to.]
Right. Of course...
[It's ironic that Eddie says Waylon has trouble seeing things for what they are considering the situation. The man is deluded, insane he's sure. Why do this to him? Surely there's some petit perfect woman out there who would be happy to live the trad wife life with this man and his old ideals of a family. Why him? Why Waylon who's a married man with two children? What did Eddie see in him that drove him to this madness?
As Eddie hoists him into his arms, carries him upstairs, there's a twist in his gut. Finally he gets to see more of this place that has become his prison. This is his chance to learn more, see exits to the home, possible ways out when he can better move on his own. Though he's more caught off guard by how... impeccable it all is, what he sees of it. Everything in it's place. Everything put out with clear intentions of how things should look.
Then the dress. Or part of a dress. No. A gown. The realization of what it's meant to be hits him and Waylon feels such a strange mix of feelings about it. He can't even put his finger on them, but a thought rings out loud. That's for me. A loud thought in his head. That's what the measurements are for.]
Will you let me stay up here with you soon?
[Some what distracted sounding as his eyes stay locked on that dress until it's out of sight.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Nurse AU @ killyourdarlings
Or it was supposed to be. A few days ago Waylon brought the boys to hospital, standard check up, but they'd both been a little under the weather with all the moving and getting their new place set up. Thankfully it didn't seem like anything serious.
After that he dropped the boys back off at home with Lisa, who was still working hard going through the rest of the unopened boxes. All the little knickknacks that made a place a home. Then it was off to work, he was the new guy so of course he had to be the last one out, close things up. "New kid" hazing or something, who knows. Waylon doesn't mind, everyone has been pretty nice so far and if he's gotta be it for the first week or so, he can manage.
Locking up he'll pull out the keys for his car, phone in the other hand. Just checking texts from Lisa, asking what he wants for dinner. She's caving in and ordering something, because they're all pooped from unpacking and the last thing she wants to do is cook. Waylon smiles, starting to type an answer.
Let the boys pick.
But he doesn't get to hit send. Out of no where a pair of headlights blind him and the last thing he remembers is being hit. Hard. Thrown to the ground, vision blurring as pain blooms in his side and leg. The dark vision of a person stepping out of the car before he passes out.]
this is so LONG guhh
given the difficulties of his own upbringing, it might come as a surprise to see how gentle he is with regards to the offspring of others. perhaps he should resent them, hate them for being gifted with the joyous upbringing he was deprived of, but he keeps those thoughts shelved away in a basement deep, deep below his home.
like any respectable man, he wants to be a father. he wants to be the kind of man who can proudly lift his child above his head, allow them to wrap their dainty little legs around his shoulders, and squeal with joy. he'd be better. he'd be loving, and kind, and so unlike his own father — his father, for whom he holds nothing but a paradoxical sort of reverence.
fortune hasn't provided a family for eddie just yet, but it's soon coming, he's certain. his wife, his children, his american dream, all just around the corner.
closer now than ever before since laying eyes on his wife.
how she'd played so carefully with her children, two shy, bright-eyed boys in for their annual check-up. it was routine enough—ears, eyes, throat, —but eddie had carved every moment deep into his memory. the way her children huddled together, both uncertain and excited by the new environment. the way she, waylon, chuckled as they fought over the lollipop, and ruffled their hair as they turned to leave. she'd even chuckled at one of eddie's jokes as he'd administered the band-aid:
One of my most loving memories of my mother was when I scraped my knee and she kissed my boo-boo and put a bandaid on it. It truly stuck with me.
and her laugh, oh! her laugh! enough to melt the heart of any man, certainly a lesser one than eddie.
while it's true that she wasn't as feminine as the women eddie traditionally enjoyed — narrow where women are wide, flat where women are soft — eddie's certain that modifications can be made. modern medicine truly is a marvel and where that fails, well, eddie is terribly handy with a chainsaw.
it should shock no one, then, that he was overcome with the unshakable urge to ram her with his car.
women and their wiles; they make men do all sorts of things. you know how it is.
when waylon wakes next, he'll find that he's been brought to a small, dingy space. he's lying above a medical bed, no doubt stolen from the hospital, with a steady IV drip in his vein. unlike what he'd find in most hospitals, waylon will find that he's been restrained to the bed with straps across his chest, across his thighs. the straps are deliberate in their avoidance of waylon's hips, wrapped in gauze and bandages and barely covered with the edge of his hospital gown.
above him stands eddie, who appears simply beside himself as waylon opens his eyes. )
Darling! I thought you'd never wake again. How are you feeling? Where does it hurt?
shhh darling sh sh
Waylon's eyes flutter open, confusion furrowing his brow and vision blurred much like before he'd passed out. Where...? Maybe when was a good question, but disoriented as he is it's not something Waylon considers yet. A familiar face comes into focus slowly above him and there's a moment of relief that crosses his expression. The nurse from the hospital, so that meant he was...?
Shifting a bit in the bed Waylon, groans softly, looking down at himself.]
What...?
[Groggy, but starting to realize something might be off, Waylon tries to sit up, but can't. He's strapped to the bed? Wait- what did the nurse call him? Panic starts to creep up on him and his breathing picks up, struggling against his bonds as little as he can manage.]
Where... where am I?
[Vision clearing he can see that this is definitely not a hospital, even if he appears to be on a hospital bed and there's some equipment around that would be in one. There's a dull pain lower down in his body, but maybe he's been drugged? Honestly Waylon is still trying to piece anything together.]
darling,, :^))
I'm a practitioner, you see.
( new place, new time, new job — according to the paperwork eddie had found in his bag, at least. maybe waylon was so worried about his work, he hadn't realized he'd walked into oncoming traffic. the poor thing, so stressed, so overworked.
eddie dabs a cloth against his forehead. )
Rest now. Sleep. You're safe now... I'll explain everything when you wake, my pretty thing.
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No- I... my family I need...
[The cloth against his forehead feels nice, doesn't help with his confusion any. The way this man talks is strange too. Did he call him his 'pretty thing'?]
I need to call my wife, tell her what's happened. Please.
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( jealousy spears through him like lightning. it had been wishful thinking to assume he'd been unattached. wishful thinking and, perhaps, selective attention. the multitude of messages from a 'lisa' with hearts and kisses in their contents — eddie had chosen to believe she was little more than an inappropriately attached sister and not, as he'd feared, a wife.
no, he's been mistaken.
they've both been mistaken.
there's no wife here.
the only marriage within this room is waylon's impeding marriage to eddie and eddie alone. )
Come now. Surely you haven't forgotten that dreadful business with the fire? Unless... ( eddie's face contorts into sympathy. ) No one's told you? Of course they haven't, leaving me to bearer the bad news on my own, the brutes.
Waylon, my love, I'm so terribly sorry. You've been unconscious for so long... so much has happened.
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The things this nurse tells him don't feel right, it all feels wrong and Waylon struggles uselessly against the bindings only to gasp out in pain. A sharpness at his hip, it feels wrong. Why is he strapped down? All confused foggy thoughts that slosh together as his brain registers that the man is mentioning a fire...? Dreadful business with the fire.
No one's told you?]
What do mean? What's... please I just need— my phone, I just need to talk to Lisa, the boys. Please.
[Panic spikes in him because there's so much wrong about this, but in his current state it's hard to put it all together yet.]
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( says the one growing louder by the moment, clearly more in danger of a blood pressure related mishap than waylon is.
fortunately, he has just the thing for this. when he turns away, waylon can see more of the room that was previously blocked out by eddie's broad back. it's absolutely, positively not a hospital. the space is more akin to a dungeon — wide, and empty, and dank. in the far corner sits a sewing station of some sort, and scraps of fabric line the ground in the space between here and there.
eddie turns back, and he's flicking the air bubbles from a needle as he does so. )
Just a sedative, my love. Nothing to fear. Something to put you at ease, nothing more.
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What the hell is going on? His attention is drawn back by Eddie turning to him with a needle in hand and again he'll struggle a little, most trying to free his arms, even if it's clearly futile.]
Don't- please.
[Waylon shakes his head, breath coming short and fast.]
J-Just let me tell them I'm okay.
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eddie saved him, and what thanks has he gotten in return? ever since waylon opened his eyes, he's not said a positive words towards him. he's only spoken of lisa, lisa, lisa. where was lisa when waylon stepped before that damnable car? where was lisa when eddie cradled waylon's limp body in his arms, praying to a merciful god for his health? was it lisa who brought waylon into the kind warmth of her home? was it lisa who monitored waylon for hours, watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, snuck kisses between his brows and along his lips in an effort to kiss his injuries away?
NO!
the force with which the thought comes to him is violent enough for eddie to snap the delicate needle in his hand, sending glass, liquid, and metal shards all skittering to the ground. )
Waylon, dearest, this isn't working! ( in a rage, he throws his hands down against the gurney, likely jolting waylon's shattered bones in his haste. deep breath. deep, deep breath... )
I want to be good for you, I do, but how can I be the best man I can be when you vex me so? How can I heal you when you... when you refuse me even the slightest appreciation?
( he takes a cloth from the pocket of his scrubs and dabs at his own forehead this time, needing a moment to cool himself. )
Lesser men would have left you in the street, you know? They would have allowed you to die there, indifferent to your pains. I brought you here of my own accord, and all you can think to speak about is... is her?
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It's... not a lot to ask is it? But this isn't a hospital, this is something different, something bad and this man is not well.]
I-I'm sorry, I should have thanked you. I should have.
[It dawns on him that this man met his children, probably had easy access to personal information about his family... had he hurt them? He'd mentioned a fire. What about a fire? God. His head swims with pain and it's a little hard to focus, but he has to.]
Eddie, right? I remember you... you were very kind before.
[Waylon speaks soft, kindly, though it's hard for his voice to not waver. Hard to not be scared.]
Th-Thank you for taking care of me. I'm very lucky, I'm so lucky.
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when his eyes finally slide to waylon's face, that's a calm there. genuine, not forced. )
I'm not a monster... but when you act this way, when you bring this out of me... My love, I don't want to harm you, but... but you know how it is. Love is such a strange thing.
( outburst gone but clearly not forgotten, eddie crouches to waylon's side and presses a kiss to his cheek. )
You remember me? Truly? My name... Hearing it from your mouth, oh, how it makes my heart soar. Say it again, Waylon, please, my dearest. Once more...
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I'm sorry, Eddie.
[Waylon can hear his voice shaking still, hopes it doesn't make him upset.]
Eddie.
[He'll say his name again, less for Eddie and more to get his attention. Not that he doesn't have it already.]
You said something about a fire...? What— did something happen?
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Fire? ( he sounds annoyed to talk about it. jesus, waylon, can't you tell he was trying to get off over here? ) Yes, of course. The blaze. Shortly after you arrived here, a terrible fire overtook your home. No one survived.
...My family suffered a similar fate. Not fire, though, but just as tragic.
( he pauses to drape a hand across waylon's shoulder, unable to do much more with waylon strapped down as he is. )
In that regard, you and I are all we have left in the world.
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No one survived.
The words seem to echo in his head, the rest of what Eddie says dulling into nothing as Waylon feels nausea wash over him. Nausea and grief, thoughts of his sons burning to death... Lisa... it's a lie, it has to be. They're not- it's... god.]
No—
[It's a broken sound more than a word, breathing picking up into sharp little gasps as Waylon starts to weep. Fingers curl into fists as he'll struggle a bit in his bindings and even as Eddie terrifies him his face still turns towards him for some kind of comfort in the moment. He's not sure why.]
They can't be... please...
[It's a lie, please tell him it's a lie
please say sike.]no subject
I know, my love. This pain, it feels unbearable. If you considered ending it all in order to join them, I'd understand completely. ( sir?? this is a wendy's??? ) But you must understand that I'm here for you. I'll heal you, your body as well as your mind, darling.
I swear it.
( where waylon's hand shifts against the restraints, eddie grasps it, his fingers large and cool against waylon's. )
Like this, we're broken. But in time, we'll mold one another into something beautiful.
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But then... if it's a lie...
Through the tears and the sobs he feels a hand take his and any other time it would be a comfort, but not this time. A dreadful thought comes to him, it's too convenient all of this. Waking up here after being hurt and then his family burn to death in their new home?]
Was- ngh, was- was it you?
[Sorry, hard to talk between sniffles and trying not to be a weeping mess.]
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You're in shock... Darling, you don't know what you're saying.
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Stop— stop calling me that.
[Darling darling darling. Whatever madness this man has, he wants no part of it. He wants to be with his family.]
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All right, Waylon.
( if it's too much too soon, his bride might get the wrong idea. eddie isn't one of those men. he can take a hint. he's not a brute. so, if she isn't ready to be called by his chosen nickname, eddie can wait. he's waited this long, he's certain he can wait however long it takes for her to go comfortable in her skin. )
I'll be leaving you. You need the time to rest, and I need to take care of errands. Any preferences for dinner?
( not his role of choice, but with his wife currently out of commission, eddie has no choice but to take on the role of the provider as well as the nurturer. )
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Part of Waylon doesn't want to be left alone here... here? Wherever here is. Yet at the same time having a moment of reprieve from Eddie's company and his madness might be better for him. He thinks about just not answering his question, but would that be better or worse than saying he's not hungry? Eventually after some quiet contemplation, "quiet" accompanied by crying of course.]
I'm not hungry...
[He'll sniffle loudly, trying to clear his nose. God he wished his hands were free so he could wipe at his face, it's a mess.]
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regardless, a man should be prepared to love his wife through thick and thin, even when she's looking almost too gross to touch. )
Nonsense. I'll prepare a soup for us both, the way mother used to. It will do wonders for your recovery.
( when he's done nearly suffocating waylon with his cleaning cloth, he folds it neatly like a handkerchief and presses a kiss to waylon's temple. )
Rest easy, now. I'll let the television play in my absence.
( too much tv rots your brain, but waylon can watch some. as a treat.
at the far side of the room, an ancient boob-tube sits stacked with VHS tapes and antenna. someone should tell eddie about the advent of satellite tv. for now, waylon will have to settle for a classic episode as eddie stalks away. the tape has seen so much usage, it skips and whirs at certain parts, but hopefully waylon gets the point. )
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Left with a black and white cheery old good times episode of I Love Lucy, Waylon doesn't exactly feel any better once his captor is gone. He'll be back, there's a promise of it in what he says about dinner. Once he's sure the other man is gone he'll struggle, trying to get his arms free, but they're tight, suffocatingly so. It doesn't help that moving hurts, but while that's true he doesn't want to stay here, doesn't want to be locked up by some crazy madman.
He needs to get out, get back to Lisa. The boys. They can't be dead. The fire has to be a lie. Something to break his spirits. As Waylon struggles he listens for Eddie coming back, hopes it will take him a while to make that soup he was talking about. With some struggle, a lot of struggle, wincing in pain and trying not to make any noise, he does at last get one arm freed.]
C'mon...
[Fingers fumble with the straps as he tries to free himself, but it's not easy with just one hand.]
SORRY FOR THE DELAY :(((
while waylon is panicked, alone, and strapped to a table, eddie compares the prices on soups and asks a helpful store employee for the best preparations for chicken-and-rice soup. he response is disappointing enough for him to question her femininity, but he's in a good enough mood to keep those thoughts to himself.
back home, waylon's got about an hour to make any attempt he's going to make. a free arm is enough to work at the leather straps and maybe, maybe free himself, but movement is going to pose a new challenge with what's going on beneath the sheet that covers his lower half. it's painful, whatever it is. )
shhh darling
Quick isn't as quick as he'd like, but he does finally manage to get his other arm freed after what feels like forever. Sitting up is agonizing, everything feels like it hurts and as much as he tries to be quiet, it's hard to stifle the pained noises that escape him. It's another struggle to get the other straps off, again it feels like it's taking forever, probably is, his head keeps turning to look over at the door, listening for heavy steps coming back.
The pain should be enough to make him lay back down and stop struggling, but he's been hit by a car and kidnapped, yes he's calling this a kidnapping, even if Eddie thinks he's helping Waylon. Wouldn't anyone else do whatever they had to to escape, even if it meant hurting themself to achieve that? So Waylon does, fighting through the pain moving creates until he's managed to get all the straps undone. Everything changes when he tries to get up and walk though. He all but crumples to the floor, crying out, agony lacing through his entire body.
Guess he won't be walking, time to start pulling himself along the floor with his arms, suffering the entire way.
How's grocery shopping going, darling?]
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rules be damned, he' in love.
so, imagine his surprise when he stomps inside, down the stairs, to find his love in a crumpled heap on the ground. )
Darling, couldn't you wait for my return? I imagine were terrible antsy. I'll admit, I was too. I thought only of you during my excursion...
( he doesn't question how or why waylon's ended up on the ground. in his mind, the girl just got herself so worked up that she flung herself off the bed in an effort to bring them closer together. )
Apologies, my love. This might sting.
( and then eddie is hoisting waylon up from the ground with muscles that seem to contradict the delicate work of a medical worker. lifting patients all day might have something to do with it, but it can't explain all of his bulk and brawn. once he's in the air, eddie is as gentle as possible when he lays him back onto the bed. )
Rest now, Waylon. Overexerting yourself is no good.
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And yet... Eddie is gentle, apologizes for the pain he'll cause Waylon as he lifts him from the ground to place him back on the hospital bed. Much to his darling husband to be's delight, one would imagine any way, Waylon clutches at his shirt while in Eddie's arms. What a strong broad chest and shoulders, muscles any woman would swoon over.]
I'm sorry—
[Waylon will sob in pain, mostly to try and placate any anger there may be lingering under all the care that Eddie provides him. Obviously he wasn't trying to get away, he just fell out of bed, yes. That's all it was.
The bed is more comfortable than writhing on the floor, but he's not in any less pain.]
What's... something is broken, something is wrong.
[Maybe Eddie can at least tell how fucked up his is from the "accident". Waylon can tell something is broken, otherwise he'd have been able to walk, but his body couldn't even support him trying to stand. Was it his legs? Hips? Both? Maybe there was something wrong with his spine. Fuck, would he ever be able to walk again?]
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Darling... Be mindful, now. It's clear that you don't realize the affect you have on others, but should a man come along with less resolve than I...
( he clears his throat, fully composed, and looks but in time to catch waylon's inquiry. despite his regain sense of self, he can't help himself from leaning over waylon as he speaks, admiring the subtle curve of his jaw, the smooth work of his lips. at the mention of what's broken, he allows his gaze to travel down the expanse of waylon's torso, no less salacious. he could try to be more subtle about the way he's eyeing waylon up, but, well, you know how it is. a man can only be responsible for so much. )
That grisly business with the car, I'm afraid. It's shattered you. But... it's not something that can't be rebuilt.
And, of course, I had to take care of those unsightly things down below, make a space to welcome our family.
( then, he stands. )
Chicken, my dear? Tell me you aren't one of those vegan types. I haven't the fridge to accommodate you now, but I'll find some way to make do.
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He can see the way he looks at him and he just wants to disappear. However that might be.
At least he's... kind of given an answer? Shattered. So broken bones, bones that will heal in time. How much time? How long will he be stuck here until he can plan an escape, because as shattered as he is right now, perhaps that little escape attempt of his had been stupid.]
What...?
[Confusion and pain pinch his features. Unsightly? Make space to welcome our family? What in the hell... he's not in the right mind to process what any of that means. Or maybe it's the pain. Both.]
No I'm not— I don't think... I'm not really hungry.
[And he'll reach out, grab for Eddie's arm.]
I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten up, b-but it hurts. Please do you have anything...?
[For the pain. Medicine? Hit him hard enough to knock his ass out? Something.]
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Darling, nonsense. You haven't eaten all day.
( he begins to turn away, but fingers against his arm are enough to make his heart melt. his dearest, his love, reaching for him because she knows nobody else will care for her this way. no one else will look out for waylon, will love waylon, even with her shortcomings. eddie loves her enough to stick with her through this dreadful transformation process. a lesser man wouldn't bother.
it's not easy to become a woman, but eddie will be here through it all. )
After you eat. I know you may have your reservations, but you'll wither away to nothing without a meal in you. I can give you something then.
( no room for discussion there. he pulls his arm away before waylon can suck him in further, and he descends up the stairs, away from his love, though each step feels like a knife through the heart. )
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His captor insists that he eats, that only then will he give him some relief. What else can he do but comply, not that Eddie gives him a choice in the matter. Waylon watches him leave and wants nothing but to curl in on himself, but such movement would only hurt his already fragile feeling body.
He's done enough harm to himself today as it is. So like a good wife, he'll lay there, awaiting Eddie's inevitable return.]
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by that point, the door can be heard creaking open followed by heavy footsteps padding down against old hardwood stairs. eddie has an apron on, which looks silly and strangely charming, and he balances a tray of food in one hand. atop it are the promised sandwiches and a bowl of hearty soup, but there are also freshly picked flowers and a vial of one can only pray is some kind of pain reliever.
he sits at the side of waylon's bed. )
Don't try to sit up, love. You'll strain yourself.
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He doesn't need to be told not to sit up, it hurts too much to even consider it. Before he'd all but tossed himself on the floor the pain had been much less, now it was all encompassing. Laying there is about all he can do.
Waylon notes the flowers, it would be sweet if things weren't... well. Like they were. The vial catches his attention next. Medicine? Something take help with the pain? To put him to sleep? The sooner he behaves, the sooner he can have that. Waylon nods, eyes darting over the soup and sandwiches, they look good actually, but he can't find it in himself to be hungry. Not now.
Still, when Eddie does help him to eat, he'll behave. Chew and swallow down what's given to him, even if his stomach twists in pain and nausea.]
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My darling, you'll heal so quickly, you won't even know it. You'll be back to your delicate, beautiful self in no time... Aren't you looking forward to it? To being whole? To being with me? Being safe and nurtured away from the wickedness of the world? Here, nothing can harm you. You'll be filled, and loved. The emptiness inside of you won't cry out to me for much longer...
( where else would waylon be? where else could he be? with no family to return to, and a world who thinks he's either missing or dead, he's better off staying right here by eddie's side. )
As promised, a mild sedative to help you rest... This will pinch, my love. Apologies. But soon, you'll feel nothing at all.
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Yes—
[His voice wavers, let's not start weeping again, c'mon Waylon. The yes could be an answer to Eddie's questions, but maybe Waylon is just looking forward to being healed. To not hurting anymore. Or it's the sedative he's happy for. He doesn't even feel it, but looks at the man who seems so eager to care for him.]
Thank you...
[For giving him some reprieve from the pain. Sleep blessedly doesn't take long to come after that. For some days that's how it goes. The pain is too much for him to sleep on his own, Eddie has to sedate him to give him any real rest. Waylon doesn't know how many days he's been here, at least not at first. After some time he's able to start figuring out ways to keep track of it.
The times Eddie comes down, the extended periods of time when he's not here, must be at the hospital, must be working... when he's home and taking care of his needs. It becomes a pretty set schedule more or less. Except on Eddie's days off. He sees much more of him then.
Honestly he's started to prefer his presence, because left to his own thoughts he might just go crazy. Sometimes he's left in silence and that's the worst, other times Eddie leaves programs on for him, old black and white tv shows with the perfect nuclear families and the doting wife and hard working husband. Usually at least one child if not a daughter and a son. Studious god fearing people. He's memorized some of the episodes by now, it seems to depend on how Eddie feels that day which show he has him watch, which episodes he leaves him with. Some he's only seen once, other multiple. Does it mean anything?
The pain has lessoned enough that he can shift on the bed some, even lay on his side if he wants, which is nice. He's always been a filthy side sleeper. Waylon is pretty sure he's been here at least three weeks... probably a little more than that, but that's just a rough guess from what he thinks are the days going by. He's close. More like a month.]
... how was work?
[It's dinner time again, Eddie always brings him down dinner on a tray in his apron. His mind thinks it's so nice of his husband to do this for him while he's healing... wait his husband? No— no that's just what Eddie calls himself, they're not... Waylon skewers a piece of chicken on his fork with some green beans, before bringing them to his mouth. He can much more easily sit up on his own now too, feed himself. Though Eddie still will dotingly wipe at his face if he happens to make a mess.]
You've been late the last few nights, are they short staffed?
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( it's been beautiful to watch his love grow better by the day. like watching a plant sprout from a seed, each new day sees waylon taller and stronger than the day before. he'd like to take some credit, but every good nurse knows that it takes more the medicine and well wishes for a patient to get better.
it's waylon's drive to see them as a family unit that mends his bones better than before.
eddie hardly has to assist waylon with his meals these days. he misses the days when his wife was wholly and utterly dependent on him, but he loves to see how far she's come. he loves her, as every man should love their beloved. )
After you've finished your meal, we'll bathe you. It's time. You're beautiful, but I imagine you're positively grimy beneath those bedclothes of yours. Afterwards, we'll watch a nice film while I take your measurements. Snow White feels suitable, but a tale of a slutty woman who shares her home with seven slovenly men isn't the kind of message I'd force upon you.
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With his boys... Waylon swallows down any thoughts of them for now. Getting upset won't make things any easier for him here. That much he's figured out. His head lifts from where he's started to stare off at his dinner absently, blinking a bit owlishly.]
My measurements? Oh... guess I can't stay in this hospital gown forever. I could give you my clothing sizes.
[Though Waylon wonders if they would be accurate now. He's definitely lost weight since coming here. Not that Eddie is starving him or anything, but his appetite hasn't been the best with his injuries and the pain.
He doesn't question the bath, a bath sounds divine honestly. He's been kept down here for weeks and while Eddie has done a little clean up here and there, with a warm washcloth and hands that still surprise him with how gentle they can be... it's not the same as a shower or bath. Being able to wash his hair would be so wonderful.]
Hm... I didn't see it that way, she was a kind young woman who helped them be better. Took care of them.
[Let's be real, Snow White was still a child too, but shh we won't talk about that. Waylon eats a little more, mopping up the gravy on his plate with his chicken.]
She'd lost everything and just wanted to live, they gave her that safe place to do that.
[Deep discussions of Disney princesses in the Gluskin household.]
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after all, to be a man in love is to suffer.
understandably, disney talk is more palatable by comparison. )
My love, it's only natural that you'd see things that way. You're a good woman with a good heart. It's a gift and a curse. It makes you have trouble seeing things for what they are... but I can help you.
( case in point: had waylon been a worldly woman, she might have seen eddie's car coming from miles away before
it ran him overshe walked in front of it. her innocence is a draw more than anything. eddie finds it sweet that waylon finds meaning in the story of snow white, even if she is completely and utterly wrong. she's like a child who's mispronounced something, but is too adorable to correct.when it seems like waylon's finished the majority of his meal, eddie seats his plate aside and gingerly hoists him into his arms. perhaps they'll work on crutches, or a wheelchair in the future, but eddie thinks walking lessons can wait until waylon isn't, as his mother would say, grimy. )
It's a shame that you haven't seen the rest of our home sooner. I felt it more important for you to regain your strength rather than bog you down with doors and hallways... but, well, better late than never.
( carrying waylon up from the basement to the first floor is easy work for a big, strong man like eddie. the living room and kitchen they pass are idyllic, with a newspaper resting by a burning fire and a kettle of tea simmering quietly on an immaculate stove. beyond the backdoor, maybe, waylon might see mounds of freshly turned soil, but never mind that.
the centerpiece of the living room, naturally, is a giant gown in a half-state of completion. )
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He stopped asking because he can't even be sure if what Eddie does tell him is true or not. Something to placate him or make him think he has nothing but his captor to lean on. It's easier to do his best to stay in Eddie's good graces and heal. Believe that his family is okay, that they're even looking for him all this time. They have to be okay. They have to.]
Right. Of course...
[It's ironic that Eddie says Waylon has trouble seeing things for what they are considering the situation. The man is deluded, insane he's sure. Why do this to him? Surely there's some petit perfect woman out there who would be happy to live the trad wife life with this man and his old ideals of a family. Why him? Why Waylon who's a married man with two children? What did Eddie see in him that drove him to this madness?
As Eddie hoists him into his arms, carries him upstairs, there's a twist in his gut. Finally he gets to see more of this place that has become his prison. This is his chance to learn more, see exits to the home, possible ways out when he can better move on his own. Though he's more caught off guard by how... impeccable it all is, what he sees of it. Everything in it's place. Everything put out with clear intentions of how things should look.
Then the dress. Or part of a dress. No. A gown. The realization of what it's meant to be hits him and Waylon feels such a strange mix of feelings about it. He can't even put his finger on them, but a thought rings out loud. That's for me. A loud thought in his head. That's what the measurements are for.]
Will you let me stay up here with you soon?
[Some what distracted sounding as his eyes stay locked on that dress until it's out of sight.]