Post by FRANK DAMASCA on Jan 3, 2022 16:46:07 GMT
Leaning out the driver’s side window of his truck, Frank shot his niece a little finger wave. He imagined it wasn’t half as embarrassing as when her dad did it – there was something vaguely cooler about an uncle dropping you off to school on the first day back after the Christmas break rather than your dad, even if they were identical. ”Have a good day,” he called after her as Hazel hustled for the front doors of the high school. Chuckling to himself, Frank pulled away.
The expression didn’t take long to start melting away. Even a short drive could leave him rattled on the wrong day. This one had started out right. A morning stop off to Theo’s place to drop off Theo’s portion of belated Christmas gifts their parents had sent back when they’d gotten home – from Theo’s wedding. The offer to drop Hazel off on his way into town dropped as he’d already been heading towards the door. Classes at Whitmore didn’t start until next week, plenty of time for Freyja and Theo to enjoy their long overdue honeymoon. Maybe he should’ve told them he’d take his munchkin of a niece off their hands for a couple more nights. A sleep over at Uncle Frank’s place with his band of waifs and strays entertaining her.
Frank peeled a hand off of the wheel, fingers that had been white knuckling the thin leather stiff as he ground them into his eyes. Just a second to try and force that grittiness back. No longer, not when all it took was a split second … A flicker of light on the sidewalk, enough to crush his heart against the inside of his ribcage like the brakes had been slammed on. His foot twitched, the truck lurching faintly before he got control again – of the vehicle at least. Not a device half buried in the hard packed road, no explosion to fill the air with that deadly bloom of white heat. Just a kid on a scooter, probably a Christmas present. Rattling along the sidewalk, his laughter rolling back as he coasted the truck into the curb on the square side rather than up against the stores where everybody walking past would’ve seen him bent over the wheel, hands covering his face now.
Deep breaths sucked in from under the cover of his hands. Muscles twitching under his skin as the adrenalin rapidly drained out of him. It had been peaceful over Christmas, during the wedding. No more of those voices, no more blackouts. He’d hoped maybe what had happened out in the woods was just a bad dream but that was bullshit. No amount of scans or therapy were gonna reveal that he had some previously unnoticed head injury or was just losing his mind.
That shit was all real and he was falling apart again under the weight of it.
The heels of his hands pressed hard into his aching eyes, his elbows planted on the bottom edge of the wheel. Not the voices last night but that itch under his skin that’d lingered after he’d woken from his dream of them again. Not as it had been. He hadn’t staggered out of the wreck of the truck to see his team sprawled and broken on the road like rag dolls tossed free, bloody and torn apart. Kit had been the one who’d seen them all while he’d laid there, drifting in and out of the world of pain, vision stained red, fingers slipping on consciousness. Chaco had been looking up at him this time though, half his face gone. The dark eye that remained stared up at him, torn lips spilling dark clots of blood as he tried to speak. ”Shoulda seen it Frankie, you were the one lookin’ out for us man. Why did you let it happen?” Tears spilling, his breath shuddering out of ribs that felt freshly broken again Frank had rolled out of bed, clawing at the sheets until they’d stopped holding him down.
He hadn’t slept after that, couldn’t. Pacing the house for hours, a wince rolled through him every time the floorboards creaked under his feet. Dawn had been a release and he’d bolted.
Frank dragged in a breath, felt its hitch but at least that burn in them had eased. He sniffed, tugging the keys from the engine to slip out of the truck. Maybe he could grab a couple of hours of shut eye when he got back. Tonight he’d go to the club with Kit when he went to work. Try and drive the spectre of the past out of him with music loud enough to shatter bones and enough alcohol to drag him to near coma states after. Kit would get him home after, Kit was always there to pull him back together.
Shit.
Spotting the familiar figure heading across the square, angling almost towards the truck, Frank knuckled, his eyes, his mouth. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the rusty feeling that always came with that slick coppery taste of his own blood somehow. Bloodshot hazel eyes narrowed faintly as they fixed on Dom’s hair. Brighter, not that near black that was just a couple of shades darker than his own. ”Hey … new year, new you huh? Looks good. You shoulda done it for the wedding.” He bobbed his head, gratitude for his help with that written over an expression that still wanted to twitch and shift with each popping bubble of changing emotion that rose in his chest. Emotional champagne, not that mess of blood and air that had almost killed him before they got him back to Landstuhl.
Tagged: @cian * Word Count: 947