t a s t e my disaster || cal + teva

Tears blended with droplets from the water spray but he knew Cal was crying. It was one of the more heart-wrenching things he had to endure in his life, and it hurt worse because he knew he was helpless to stop it. That terrible crime against humanity back at the club was etched into Cal’s skin like a scar, and it wasn’t the type of wound he could heal with bandages or ease with morphling. He never responded well to crying; he was the jagged-edged stone heart type, he wanted to get shit done and leave and avoid emotional conflict. He often evaded his own by drinking or doing some other stupid shit. His coping skills were a weakness more than they were an aid.

Cal was an exception.

Maybe he didn’t know how to fix a situation that couldn’t be fixed, or rewind time to rescue him from the perils of that goddamn disgusting Hell of a club, but he knew Cal well enough to comfort him. Something as simple as “comfort” sounded miniscule and pointless, but he knew better than that. The night Cal discovered him sweating and crying in his own bed – heroin needle abandoned on his nightstand, a poison that had torn him from the inside out – the comfort eased him, even when it was impossible to take the pain away. It served as a distraction. Needing someone and having them lay next to him was more than what he could’ve asked for that night. It didn’t break his fever or heal his nausea, but it made his heart happier.

If he was what Cal needed, so be it. If that meant not getting a wink of sleep tonight, so be it. If he had to stay up for days he would, if he had to run a marathon he would, if he had to kill the asshole that did this he would. He would do anything for Cal, perhaps too much. He wasn’t ashamed of it.

He decided he simply couldn’t leave Cal alone anymore. Privacy was sacred but if Cal needed him, then he would stay until the shower steam made his eyes foggy. He pulled his own shirt over his head and discarded it. There was really no point in soaking all of his clothes if he could help it; less of a mess to clean up in the future. He couldn’t imagine what that future was right now.

He carefully stepped into the shower and crouched to Cal’s level again. Up close or far away, he was gorgeous. Split lip and bruised cheek, he could knock Teva’s breath straight out of his lungs. He was a goddamn diamond and it pissed him off, knowing that someone could actually wrap their grimy hands around Cal’s throat like that. It pissed him off more knowing that they were out there somewhere, thinking they fucking got away with it. Not tonight, asshole. Not ever.

His anger was fleeting. There was no use for it right now, so he gently cupped Cal’s cheek in his hand and pressed their foreheads together. ”I’ll stay with you, okay?” He said, trying to sound reassuring. He would do anything Cal wanted. If he didn’t really know what he wanted, then Teva would sit here with hot water pelting him until he did. ”Just…” he stroked Cal’s cheek, unable to help himself, ”..tell me if you want me to do anything. We’ve got food and bandages, and…pretty much everything.” He wondered how the head wound was fairing. Faint bloodstains still speckled his jeans, and head wounds always bled the most. If it didn’t stop, he would have to break out the bandages no matter what.