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You were just
So.
Done.
That was the only way you could possibly describe how you were feeling. Tired, yet restless. Exhausted, yet bored. But those were all constants for you, really. At the moment you felt more…on edge. Tense. Alert, and buzzing with a sort of anxious energy. And on top of it all: angry. Pissed off. Frustrated. And at what? Well, true to theme, you couldn’t quite pin the blame between “everything,” and “nothing at all.” And all you wanted to do right now was take that metaphorical pin and use it to slit someone’s throat.
You were no stranger to this…feeling, whatever it was, although it was by no means always present. It first started back in high school, you knew that much— during a particularly hard year where both your home life and your away-from-home life were plagued by two strikingly similar people. “Unpredictable, unsafe, and untrustworthy,” are the best words that come to mind for them, although you’ve come up with far choicer terms over the past few years.
At home, you would worry for your brother. At school, you would worry for you and your friends. And worry led to worry, game led to game, plan led to plan and thought led to thought. Soon enough, you found that a spiral could start from “he’ll be at the assembly tomorrow morning” and end, hours later, with you pacing in your bedroom, internally fighting off the five scenarios in which he’d ignore acres of social cues (not an untrue assumption, really, it was rather in-character,) and try to attack you— or worse— and plans to keep a very, very sharp pencil on you at all times, just in case you needed it, since knives weren’t allowed on school property.
And, although the feeling was new at the time, it never seemed abnormal. It seemed… safe. Like a skill you’d been perfecting, a reassurance. But if it was a skill, you figured anyone viewing the matter from an objective standpoint would argue that it wasn’t a very beneficial one.
Of course, the years passed. The “threats” (people) were soon removed from both home and school, and while you did play a large part in the removal of one, if not both of them, no physical altercations ever took place (or, none involving you, at least). Life got better. Some healing happened. Some stress went away.
Your anxious “skill,” however, did not.
Rather than realizing there was nothing more to obsess over, your mind decided that those overthinking “skills” from earlier should continue to apply to new things in life. And while you didn’t spiral at every little thing, you still spiraled, and you couldn’t handle hiding it quite as well anymore.
See, you weren’t a serial killer or anything (although that one reassurance was all that kept you sane sometimes). Your thoughts didn’t say, “I don’t like this random stranger! We should throw him into the river, in a garbage bag” (which, first and foremost, is a terribly stupid way to kill someone. Secondly, you don’t always have to kill people! They can’t learn a lesson dead, can they?).
No, your thoughts were usually more like:
(Who does Lux even think they are? I’ve told them several times to go leave me alone and drop the stupid ‘joke’— hell, even Curt and Rod told ‘em off! And Dorian! I swear to God, this kid cannot read a fucking room! Screw all that shit about ‘oh just ignore bullies, oh they’re just a kid, they’ll quit eventually—’ no! The next time that kid comes up to me and calls me a motherfucking ‘nerd!’, I’m gonna shove them up against a wall by the fucking throat, and we’ll see if I can’t bash a lesson through their thick fucking skull on the concrete bricks of this house—)
“Hey! Hello? Spark?” Eddie’s voice breaks through the vivid imagery your mind had conjured up, sending you reeling back into reality. He chuckles, not unkindly.
“Easy on the whisky glass, there, Livewire,” he teases, and you’re suddenly aware of the cup you’ve been clenching with white knuckles, and the many more you still need to dry as you help Eddie behind the bar.
(Thank God the club is closed) You think.
“Oh, yeah…sorry, my bad.” You quickly put it away and fall into a nice pace, drying and storing the other glasses in the correct spots. Although you don’t meet Eddie’s lingering gaze, you don’t miss it either, feeling his stormy eyes searching you before ultimately choosing not to say anything, turning back to the last few dishes that remain.
The thing is, chores like this are one of those mundane tasks that don’t really require much thought. And when there’s not a lot of thought going on, your brain is bound to fill the space, until…
(What if he comes back? What if he knows that I’m out with friends or on campus and just completely fucks the law and all common sense because he’s that desperate for some sense of control? What if he has a gun? What if he just walks right up to the box office and…
“Where’s my kid? Huh? I said, where’s my FUCKING KID???”
Oh, little does he know I never was his kid. But that’s not important right now. What if the staff try to hide me? I can’t let them risk that! They may not want me to get hurt, but then someone else will, and they probably don’t know what the hell they’re doing in this situation either! I’d have to try and put myself between them and him, especially if I’m nearby in the building. But then what if he keeps the gun pointed at me? What if he grabs me, and puts the barrel to my head? God knows he never really loved me. It could be something he’s capable of. If he wants attention, just wants to cause a scene. And— God, what if Mom is there? What if my brother’s there? I’d have to get out, I’d have to take him down somehow. I’d have to play cool and do what he wants for a little while, probably, and then when his guard’s down and he thinks things are going his way— I’d have to reach up and grab the gun, but be quick about it, so he doesn’t get a chance to pull the trigger. And I’d have to twist it out of his hand, immediately, and fast, which I should be able to do. And I’d have to be sure to twist it up, or better yet, back towards him, so he doesn’t accidentally shoot anyone else, and if I can get it out of his hand, I’d shoot him, quick as I can, I don’t care what the ALICE training at school said, I’m not letting him stay up, I’m not giving him the chance to attack anyone else. I’d shoot him once, probably, since I don’t know how to re-cock it; in the shoulder would pass better as self-defence, but I’d shoot him in the head if I’m lucky. And the people all around me might be grateful, or they might be scared, but it wouldn’t matter to me because I would’ve won. I would’ve won and I would be safe, and everyone else would be safe, and no one would ever be not-safe because of him again, and even if I went to prison for it, I wouldn’t be sorry, hell no, I’d—)
“LIVEWIRE!”
You properly startle at this second interruption, having been far more enveloped in this scenario than the one before. As your head snaps to the source of the sound, you see both Eddie and Volt standing together against the bar, each looking at you with their own expression of pointed concern. You know a good chunk of time must have passed; you’ve managed to put most of the dishes away, and the sink that Eddie was just standing over had been long since drained and abandoned.
You take a breath. (Well, shit.)
Eddie is the first to address things. “Spark, what is going on with you?” he asks, in a rough, indignant tone that you know to be his version of concern. “You’ve been walking around in this…I don’t know, half-dream state! You look like you’re in a waking nightmare, I mean...”
Volt sighs. “What he means to say is that we’re worried about you, Livewire. I mean, he has a point, you don’t look well, but…” He sighs again, his tone and gaze softening. “We want to be able to help you. Could you tell us what’s wrong?”
Despite both of these men, who you loved dearly, looking at you expectantly, hopefully, even— something just…didn’t click. You hesitate, weighing your options, and really trying to find some way to communicate any of this to them, but you’re still too tense. Too anxious, too pent-up.
After far too long spent thinking under silent stares, you huff, setting the cup and towel you’d been holding back on the counter a little harder than you’d intended. You storm out from the bar and head towards the dance floor of the empty club, needing space, with both men quick to follow behind you.
“Hey, Spark, slow down—”
“Livewire, for Amp’s sake, what is this about?” Volt cuts Eddie off, running his hands through his hair in a rare display of stress as they watch you begin pacing in the open space.
“I need to fight something.”
This was enough to give both men pause, said so clear, and so…desperately.
You keep going, having finally found some words. “I need to fight— something, anything, anyone, really— I mean, I usually wouldn’t say anyone, but at this point?! Ha!” You run your hands over your face, not wanting to see their reactions, not yet.
“Do you even know—” you continue, interrupting yourself. “No, I know you don’t… oh, you two cannot even begin to fathom how much I’ve thought of this, how many plans I’ve planned, how many people I've had to hold myself back from, I… There were— there've been so many things done, and said— so many people! —that I could do nothing about! Like, what the hell was I supposed to do there? I couldn’t— I… But I could’ve— I could’ve done something, I should’ve done something, and so I thought, and I thought, and I made myself think— but I still— I still get caught in this, goddamnit, and I just want to tear something APART!”
You make a rather uncharacteristic noise somewhere between a growl and a scream, roughly grabbing a nearby chair with what you can only assume was the intent to throw it, before forcing yourself to drop it just as quickly. With another scream muffled only by your gritted teeth, you begin pacing even faster with an energy that demands to be released.
(But it can’t be released because Eds and Volt work hard on this place and that would be bad and inconsiderate and I can’t just beat the shit out of innocent people, because then they’d think I’m crazy— hell, they probably already think I’m crazy, how could they not? But even still, I can’t just—)
A sharp whistle makes you stop and turn your head towards Eddie, who’s taken up a fighting stance at the other end of the dance floor, while Volt watches the scene unfold, mouth agape.
“Hey! Spark!” he shouts. “You wanna hit something? Well, I’m open, c’mon, I can take it!”
Although the anxious energy inside you doesn’t go away, you can’t help but soften a bit, looking at the man in front of you.
“Eddie, I…” You sigh. “No. I can’t. You don’t deserve this shit, and I… and I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“No, no, no,” he argued, “you need this. To get this out. Livewire, there’s nothing you could do to hurt me.”
“Yes, there is,” you insist, your voice raising out of desperation as you begin pacing once again. “Eddie, I… I love you, Eds, and I cannot take this out on you! I won’t!”
“Spark, I told you—”
“You’re not invincible, Eddie!” You whirl around to face him, and your words of worry come out much louder and more clipped than you meant them. You’re all too aware of this by the way his face shifts, a softer, less readable expression coming over his face in an instant.
“Shit, no, I’m sorry, Eddie, I—” you step forward and reach out a hand to comfort him, before quickly pulling yourself back, sensing it might be a bad idea. Again you wheeled around and paced, inwardly cursing yourself for the scene you’ve caused. Yet, apparently, it wasn’t enough, because inside you were still anxious, still unsatisfied.
“AAAAARGGGHHH, goddamn it!” you shouted, slamming your hand into the stage and simultaneously kicking it, needing something, anything—
“Livewire.”
As you look behind you, Volt steps onto the dance floor, tossing his jacket onto a nearby table all while looking you in the eye.
“I may not be invincible, but I’m damn well near it.” He glanced to the side, where Eddie still stood, before bringing his bright, icy eyes back to yours.
“Don’t hold back.”
You’re not quite sure what it is about the man that convinces you to listen. Perhaps you knew, even in this state, how Eddie’s health had been acting up lately— and you knew Volt knew that, too. Perhaps you reasoned that Volt might have some sort of magical-metabolism electric healing powers to help him. Perhaps you just couldn’t keep this in anymore. Whatever the case, after only a moment of tense hesitation, you comply.
For what very well may be the first time in your life, you don’t hold back, not really. You run towards him, as much as the space allows, and start throwing punches at full force. He responds (out of instinct, if nothing else) by dodging some of the worse blows, although several land really nicely, giving you release with each hit. You aren’t just punching, though; as the “fight” continues, he starts to gently redirect you (aka, shove you off course a little), so you begin grabbing at him as well.
(Hit-hit, hit, punch, hit— he’s moved again, reach, grab his shoulder, a scratch you didn’t mean but didn’t mind, hit, hit, shove…) You kept on for a while, losing track of time…and of yourself.
Soon enough, though, you feel yourself quickly wearing out. You try to keep up your pace, that urge in your subconscious still yearning to “win,” but it’s only half-hearted; the anxiety is gone.
Volt seems to notice this, grabbing one of your slow-moving fists out of midair and pulling you up against his chest in an embrace. You give him one last thump with your free hand before your fists unclench, sliding down and grasping the fabric of his shirt like a lifeline. He holds you close for a while, his arms wrapped around your waist, before planting a long, gentle kiss to your scalp. You hear the sound of his breathing through his chest, and feel the resonation of his voice as he speaks.
“Livewire, you’re shaking.”
Oh. You were, weren’t you? Not a lot, but you were trembling, and you couldn’t quite seem to control it. As you sniffled, your nose suddenly runny, you realized that you’d started crying, too.
“It’s alright,” you hear Volt murmur, although you can’t quite be sure who it’s directed to as you hear Eddie’s footsteps approaching. Another hand comes to your back, softly rubbing circles on your neck and shoulders.
“Hey, Spark,” Eddie said, his voice low but strangely fragile. “We’re right here, you’re gonna be alright. I promise. Let’s sit down, though, ‘kay?”
A sob comes out before you can think to stop it. You hold Volt’s shirt a little tighter, but you nod, letting Eddie peel you off of Volt before latching onto him and being led to a booth. You sit down in the corner, the walls and table feeling comforting rather than suffocating. Eddie sits next to you, holding you as you cry, and Volt sits directly across from you both, reaching a hand across to squeeze your shoulder, as if to remind you he was still there.
“There you go, it’s okay,” Eddie mumbled, running a hand through your hair before placing a kiss there, just as Volt had. You feel him turn to face Volt, likely to ask him… well, something, but you couldn’t bring yourself to think about any of that right now, your body racked by sobs.
---------------
Several minutes later, the three of you were still in the same spot, although things had calmed down considerably. You’d stopped crying a while ago, your breathing having synced up with Eddie’s, but you didn’t want to move. Eddie felt so warm now, and Volt had started humming something a while ago… you felt grounded. Cozy. Safe.
After a few moments, you finally worked up the will to move, comprised mostly of consideration for Eddie’s need to stretch. You sat up off of his chest, rubbing your eyes, and from the sound of popping joints beside you, you could tell that your suspicion had been correct.
“Ah, there you are, Livewire,” Volt greeted, putting an end to the soft melody. “Feeling better, I hope?”
“Yeah,” you muttered, sighing. “Just a little tired, though.”
Both of your boyfriends chuckled at this. “Yeah, I can imagine,” Eddie huffed, not unkindly.
Volt hummed. “Yes, well, you have quite the fight in you, Livewire.”
You scoffed dryly, blinking away the blurriness in your eyes to look at your boyfriends. Eddie smiled softly next to you, with his eyebrows furrowed slightly in an expression Volt mirrored in his own way.
But, oh, God.
Volt was a fucking mess! His hair was disheveled and sparking at the ends, and his left cheek had an unfamiliar red mark across it. His shirt was rumpled and crooked, revealing even more of his skin than usual… skin that was now littered with fresh bruises and scratches— God, did you really do all that?
“Volt, oh my God…I-I’m so…”
“Don’t even start with that, Spark,” Eddie warned, jumping the gun on the other man.
“Ah-ah-ah, none of that, now, Livewire,” Volt tuts, reaching across the table and taking your hand in his. “I assure you, I am perfectly fine. These will heal up in no time, and besides… Well, let’s just say I’ve gotten in worse tussles, you know, working at a bar and all.”
You can tell he’s trying to lighten the mood, and it might’ve worked, had it not been for the fact that you had done this. To him. You nearly got sick at the thought of it. “But I hurt… I hurt you! How could I have let myself hurt you?”
Volt shakes his head, wiping a fresh tear from your cheek. “You didn’t. I promise you, you didn’t. Look at me, Livewire.” You comply and his expression seems… sad.
“I am fine,” he continues. “You haven’t hurt me, and I love you all the same, alright?” Once you nod, he gently smiles before glancing over to Eddie momentarily. “The only thing that’s pained us is seeing you so badly torn,” he adds, squeezing your hand.
“So,” Eddie begins, “care to tell us what’s been going on?”
You sigh, your breath still damnedly shaky. Where would you even begin?
“I… I didn’t want to fight you,” you offer, with an apologetic glance at Volt.
Eddie chuckles before Volt can intervene. “We get that much, Spark. But who did you want to fight, then?”
Boy, wasn’t that a loaded question, huh? Who did you want to fight? Everyone? No one? Lux? Your father? Yourself? You faltered, unsure of what to say.
“Here, let’s try something else,” Volt offered. “Did something happen recently? Did someone…do something?”
You grimaced, even less sure of how to answer that, but mercifully, you didn’t have to.
“No,” said Eddie, shaking his head, “this is deeper than that. You said that this has been going on a long time, yeah?” You hesitate, but nod. Now, it seems like Eddie’s turn to hesitate as he stares off, a faraway look in his eye. “The… the things you mentioned earlier tonight… The tension, the zoning out…” He looks back to you. “Spark, were you having a flashback?”
Huh. Finally, a question you could…maybe answer.
You shake your head, sitting up a bit. “No. It’s… it’s not a flashback, it’s more like a… flash-forward?”
Volt tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“I…I’ve done this for a long, long time,” you begin. “I’ve— well, I’ve been through some shit, most of which you know…” You see Volt’s eyes flick to Eddie’s at a speed which lets you know that you’ll all be discussing that later. “And so, whenever there’s been a bad person, or… a ‘threat’ around, I’d get caught thinking about… well, everything. Where they’ll be, what they might say, what they could do, what I’d do, how I’d fight— how I’d win. I used to justify it. I thought it was useful at the time, planning for these scenarios, these potential attacks. And, who knows? Maybe it was, back then. But now… now it’s just too much.”
You tell them a bit about when it started, at least, as much as you can. They’d heard some of the stories before, but… not others. And certainly not the thoughts behind them.
“Livewire…” Volt murmurs, rubbing his thumbs across your knuckles. You look up and can practically see his heart breaking in his eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Eddie implores, a certain softness in his husky voice. “We could have tried to help you. We could have been there.”
You hang your head. “I… I don’t know. I hadn’t thought of it as an issue until recently, I guess. I’ve taken so many steps away from these people, I keep thinking it’ll stop…”
“But it hasn’t?” Volt offers.
You sigh. “No. It hasn’t.”
Eddie wraps an arm around you again, and you lean your head on his shoulder.
“Well,” he ventures, “what brought it on tonight?”
There’s a pause as you consider the question. “I find it usually happens when there’s quiet, and I’m doing something boring: laundry, sweeping—”
“Dishes?” Eddie asks.
A flush of shame rises to your cheeks. “Yeah…especially dishes. That’s why I usually put my music on for that kind of stuff, but I…forgot today. It had already started before I came here, though. The spiral, I mean. I don’t want you guys to think I hate helping, please, it’s not that.”
Volt nods reassuringly. “I know, spark, I know. May I ask what started it, though?”
You hesitate to answer, and Eddie places a kiss on your head. “We just wanna help you, wire, whatever that means for you.” And with that gentleness, you finally relent.
“Stupid fucking Lux!” You blurt, hardly even caring. “I get my glasses in the mail the other day, and this idiot of a kid makes fun of me every time I see them! They point at me, say ‘nerd!’ like it’s the most original thing ever, and laugh at me on their stream. You’d think even they’d know how cliche it is! You’d think they’d take a hint! But no, everytime I pass the fucker I’m just the funniest thing in the whole damn house, apparently.” You sigh. “I’ve told myself that the next time it happens I’m gonna slam a lesson into that thick, dense skull of theirs… Which is why I’ve been trying to avoid them. A little.”
“Why?” asks Eddie, incredulously, which makes you laugh a little.
“God, I don’t know… I mean, I’d love to put the kid in their place, don’t get me wrong, but I do have, y’know, some sort of reputation to upkeep with the other objects— and I’d like to be able to see past eight o’clock at night, too.”
Both your boyfriends laugh at this, with Eddie choking a bit on the water he was drinking.
“Well,” he said once his throat was sufficiently clear, “while those are, uh, valid reasons, I guess,” Volt rolled his eyes. “Lux has had it coming for a good while now, and I don’t think anyone else would mind much if they finally got it. I mean, I’m sure Volt and I could help you think of a way to stop him, right, angel?”
Volt nods. “Of course we would, Livewire. If, of course, that’s what you want.”
You chuckle, grinning as you think of the havoc you would wreak with these two. “Yeah, that sounds great!”
Volt matches your grin. “Then it’s a date! At the moment, however, I suggest that we all get some rest— preferably in the bed, if that’s quite alright with you two?” He stands up, offering a hand to you.
“Well, if I must,” you tease, taking his hand (and looking a little longer at the new scratch on his wrist).
You feel a hand on your shoulder, and as you turn to look behind you, Eddie catches you in a tighter bear hug than you thought possible.
“Hey,” he whispers, his stubble prickling the crook of your neck.
You huff, a small grin on your face. “Hey yourself.”
“Spark, I…” He sighs. “Please come to us, when you feel like that again, okay? I…I hate that you’ve had to know that pain, and… I know there’s not much I can do, but I wanna be able to help. You can wreck the place for all I care, just… just as long as we can help you heal, okay?”
“Oh, Eddie,” you practically melt. “Yes! Of course, I’ll be here. I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys this stuff earlier, but I’ll be better about it now, I mean… You guys have been amazing, really, you have.”
Volt shakes his head as he puts his arms around the both of you. “Don’t apologize, livewire, you act like we’re open books ourselves.” You laugh. “No, everyone has their pasts, their secrets. I’m just glad that you’ve trusted us with yours.” You smile softly, looking up to meet his eyes.
“And,” he continues, “while I don’t think I’ll be offering myself up as a human— er, ‘in-human’ punching bag in the future, I do want you here when you’re feeling this way, same as Eddie. We’ll work out a way to help you, alright? Whatever you need.”
You smile, leaning your head against his chest. “Okay. And, thank you. Both of you. I…” You sigh, shakiness threatening to creep back into your voice. “This means a lot to me, really. I love you guys, so, so much.”
“We love you too, Livewire.” “We love ya too, Spark.” They say simultaneously.
That night, wrapped in your lovers’ arms, in the sheets that smell like them, you sleep better than you have in a long, long time.