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I Hurt Myself Today

Discussion in 'Pandora, Year 1 - 7' started by Johnny Blaze, Jan 13, 2018.

  1. Johnny Blaze

    Johnny Blaze Marvel Universe

    Posts:
    354
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Ghost Rider//Mechanic
    Race:
    (Super)human
    Age:
    46
    January 9th-Year 7

    The coughs had only gotten worse. A cough that had started on around the holidays that he thought he was catching whatever it was from Berelain. But the coughing only got about worse, and every little thing aggravated it. Running aggravated it. Smoking aggravated it. Working standing long hours in the shop aggravated it. Seemed the only time he wasn’t coughing was when he was still.

    Course he pondered eventually going to the Clinic, saying hullo to Nynaeve, as if she had something for a bad cough. Which he was quickly suspecting wasn’t the beginnings of a flu, but more something he was suspecting was allergic. Maybe the magicteck stuff, he had never had to work with it before, and maybe he was somewhat allergic to it? Or was developing an allergy to it?

    Or maybe he was just old. Breaking down, starting the edge down the hill of old man-ness. And old men just coughed.

    But nah. It wasn’t that. It was so much fucking worse.

    He was sitting on the steps porch, an unusual warm day, melting the snow, the sun sparking off the water drops and creating a million sparkles across the morning. He slipped out of bed, put on something warm-ish, and sat out there with his new fancy guitar that Berelain had gotten him for Christmas. Fingers going across the strings, as easily as a man touching an old lover, no more danger of cracked strings and bad sound. The thing was a thing of beauty…..

    And then: he felt the tale tell signs of a cough coming on. He stopped playing with a sharp ‘twang’, coughing into his hand as the coughs got louder…. And wetter. He felt something wet hit his hand. Johnny’s face twisted in disgust as he managed to finally reign it in, looking down and expecting to see phlegm. Deciding that fuck it he needed some damn allergy pills.

    It wasn’t phlegm. It was blood.

    The world went silent, so silent Johnny could hear ringing in his ears. He didn’t’ move, just stared down at the blood, remembering the distant memory of his stepfather: coughing blood into his handkerchief even as his hair fell out, and chemo did shit all to stop the eventual degrade of his body. Lung cancer…. What Johnny had sold his soul to heal was now in his own body.

    Johnny slowly closed his hand, tears staining his cheeks. He didn’t even know he had started crying. Blue eyes slowly looking out towards the beautiful morning. He didn’t need to go to the clinic anymore. He knew exactly what was wrong…. He was dying.
     
    Berelain sur Paendrag likes this.


  2. Over the past couple weeks of having (reluctantly) gone back to work, Berelain hadn't been able to spend as much time in Misty Hollow with Johnny as she might have liked. She managed to get to his for a few nights here and there, and other times he would stay at her penthouse for a little bit, but a lot of the time she was kept working too late with all the things that had become backed up during her absence that she just ended up going straight to bed.

    Although spending time with Johnny had been more difficult lately, Berelain had still managed to get enough time with him that she had been able to notice something... off with him. When she had been ill a few weeks back, he'd seemed to be coming down with it too, coughing just as she had, but while she was once again hale as ever, he was... not.

    In fact, he was plainly getting worse and worse, with no improvement in sight, and he acted as though Berelain couldn't see that he was constantly coughing and wheezing, quite often so badly at night that he woke her up. She'd tried to ask him what was wrong a few times and had suggested he go to the Aes Sedai at the clinic for herbs, but each time he had just dismissed her concerns, insisting that it was nothing. Just a cough that would go away.

    True enough, Berelain knew next to nothing about medicine, but she wasn't stupid. She could tell when something was more than just a cough. And a cough that didn't go away after three weeks? That wasn't just a cough.

    On one of her days off - that she was determined to take more of this time, if she didn't quit her position on the council entirely - she had been with Johnny at his house since the previous evening, woken up the night before as usual by his coughing. He was outside at that moment, playing the guitar she had bought him. Berelain left the kitchen and made her way through the house to the front door with a cup of tea in her hands - really, the only thing that she could make well even now.

    Joining him on the porch, Berelain stepped up behind him, her movements silent as he went into a coughing fit. "I thought you might like some--" she started to say, as her eyes slid down to his hand. From her position standing behind him, she could see blood, just before he hurriedly wiped it away. When she spoke again, her voice was sharp and concerned. "Johnny? Are you alright?"


     
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  3. Johnny Blaze

    Johnny Blaze Marvel Universe

    Posts:
    354
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Ghost Rider//Mechanic
    Race:
    (Super)human
    Age:
    46
    Johnny had to choose, between the blood on his hand and the tears on his face, what he would wipe away when he realized that Berelain was standing right behind him. He chose the blood, taking a few tissues from his pocket and hastily dabbing it away, well aware that his hand was still stained with it. He made a strange note in his brain to start carrying around red handkerchiefs. It felt fucking surreal of a note.

    ”Oh…..” He said, empty, brain trying to catch up to his mouth as he adjusted the guitar on his lap, something to do with his hand, ”Mornin’….. Sorry…..”

    His ears felt weird and echoy, and he could barely hear much out of the sheer shock. Jesus, what could he even say? Part of him felt an intense guilt at the thought of putting this burden on Berelain. Girl had been through enough, didn’t need this sitting on her shoulders too. She deserves better anyway….

    You are an idiot. Zarathos’ growling voice made Johnny almost jump out of his skin. Tell her, host. She knows of medical folks. She has connections. You can be healed by tomorrow and be done with this self-obsessed depression….

    I’m not doing chemo. Johnny told the demon firmly, images of his step father struggling through it day in and day out, how horribly painful and awful it was. Just delayed it, that’s all it did. Zarathos did a frustrated growl, something that told Johnny this wasn’t the last he would hear of it. Well the demon could fuck right off really….

    ”…. Sorry….. sorry what were you sayin?” Johnny asked, distractedly, his non-bloody hand wiping away at his face. He didn’t want to know what he looked like. Some kind of godawful mess of a man. It would be fucking better without him.
     
    Berelain sur Paendrag likes this.


  4. He started trying to clean the blood off his hand with tissues as though he could erase her having seen it at all, apologising to her for some Light-blinded reason. She watched him, a frown creasing her face. There had been several times she'd caught him deep in thought and startled him, especially when his guitar was involved, but this seemed completely different. And with the blood on his hand, well... Something was not right at all.

    "I thought you might like tea," she said, circling around him and then making her way down the steps until she was stood at the bottom, facing him. There was less difference in their heights this way, so she didn't need to bend down too far to put the mug down on the porch next to him. It also allowed her to see his face, and see the wetness of tears before he dashed them away.

    Worry twisted her insides. She caught sight of a small streak of blood at the corner of his lips, and that worry only twisted harder. Leaning forward, she reached out before he had a chance to get rid of it, using her thumb to gently wipe it away, before glancing down at the smear on her own skin and then back at him. He didn't seem to be in any pain to explain away the tears. No, the tears seemed to be more drawn from the emotional rather than the physical, as though he knew exactly what the blood meant and was afraid of that fact.

    Unfortunately, Berelain did not know, and not only did she dislike not knowing things, but not knowing what was upsetting him made her feel more troubled than she was really used to. "What's going on, Johnny?" she asked, showing him the smear of blood on the pad of her thumb that she had wiped from the corner of his lips. He must have known what was going on, and he had been refusing to go to the clinic every time Berelain tried to persuade him to go. There was even an Aes Sedai healer there! At least, there was a channeller there, who was entirely too young to be a full Aes Sedai. But then, so was Egwene, and Berelain had long accepted that somehow, she was a full sister. Either way, there was a woman who healed with saidar. "What's wrong?"


     
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  5. Johnny Blaze

    Johnny Blaze Marvel Universe

    Posts:
    354
    Gender:
    Male
    Occupation:
    Ghost Rider//Mechanic
    Race:
    (Super)human
    Age:
    46
    Johnny didn’t want her to know. Who fucking wanted for their significant other to go through that kind of pain? He’d gone through that kind of shit before. With his stepfather: learning he had lung cancer. Learning that he had to go through chemo, and his chances of surviving it all was slim to none. The whole waiting around part was the worst… for those that had to watch their loved ones die. And Johnny knew full well as he wiped away the blood from his hands that between the two: Berelain was about to be hurt a shit ton more than he would as his lungs gave out to the black tar within.

    Tea…. She’d brought him tea. He stared at it almost mindlessly as the still steaming cup was placed beside him, his throat still clogged from blood and bile and whatever shit else was going on in his chest. He cleared it, or tried to, with some difficulty. ”Thanks honey.” He said, his southern voice still hoarse. He hoped it wasn’t something permanent: he’d kill himself sooner if it meant he couldn’t sing no more.

    Then she leaned forward, a hand reached up and wiped away something on the corner of his mouth. The sinking feeling in his gut as he caught a bit of red that wasn’t nail polish nor any kind of fancy jewelry. He looked away, looking ashamed as if she’d caught him doing something horrible instead of just caught out sick with something terrible.

    No…. Please don’t.

    She then asked him what was going on, what was wrong. He played at the white tuning keys on his guitar, fumbling with them mindlessly as she finally confronted with him. If she was watching, which he was sure she was, she’d notice that his hands were shaking something fierce.

    ”….. It’s just a bad bug.” He tried to assure her, his words sounding hollow in his own ears, knocking the back of his heels against the porch as he leaned over and picked up the mug of tea she’d brought him. ”I’ll go get it cleared up with the doc at the clinic, maybe tomorrow during my lunch hour. It’ll be fine.”

    He didn’t look like it was going to be fine. He hated that he was lying to her, or even silver lined promises about it. But he didn’t know what else to say. Maybe if he promised to go see Nynaeve at the clinic she’d relax a bit and stop being so worried over him?
     
    Berelain sur Paendrag likes this.