Nasir (noturlittleman) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-05-11 19:23:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, agron, nasir |
Who: Nasir and Agron.
What: Agron is not doing so well.
When: May 4th, after this
Where: Agron’s home.
Rating/Warnings: Low, gladiator typical swearing
Status: Complete when posted.
This was the fucking worst. Absolutely fucking shit.
It was typical, wasn’t it, that Agron could avoid all the shit his dreams hurled at him (save for the brand), and end up like this. With holes through his hands and his life totally fucked from here on in. Thank God Dorian had been there when Agron had woken up, confused and momentarily numb until realization set in. And the doctors were as helpful as they could be. Surgery had been enough to help the bones but none of them seemed optimistic that the nerves or tendons would heal. So that was that. Agron had been too angry to see anyone until he got home. Even his manager had to wait until Agron was despondent enough to just sit there and be miserable.
But in a way it lifted his spirits, at least a little, when Nasir wanted to come see him. It wasn’t like Agron did much while Dorian was at work, anyway. Mostly he just sat around on the couch, covered in cats.
Nasir was...well. He wasn’t sure how he felt about all of this. He knew that Agron had been dreaming about all of this a lot longer than him and that he knew a lot more about what was happening, and Nasir wasn’t sure that he wanted to know how things turned out until he got there himself, but at the same time he wanted to know how this happened. How Agron got so seriously hurt. And where the hell he’d been in all of this. Not that he thought that he’d be able to do much against the legions of Rome, but still. He hated to think that Agron was alone, suffering on a cross. Nasir hoped that his dream self hadn’t died, for Agron’s sake.
Well, he could do something about that here, at the very least. He tried to smile at Agron as he stepped into the room, although it didn’t come as easily as he’d hoped. “Comfy?” he asked, sitting next to the man. He was unsure how to act - like nothing had changed? He knew that sympathy wouldn’t do well, but he also wasn’t sure whether he should acknowledge the elephant in the room. He reached over to pet one of the cats, for lack of anything else to do. “Which one is this again?”
A part of Agron felt so guilty for leaving Nasir in the dreams. If he hadn’t left, none of this would have happened, they’d be happy and moving towards the mountains and - well. That wasn’t really how Agron wanted it. He hated the thought of running. Had to fight. Look where that got him.
He smiled at Nasir. It was a sincere, genuine smile, but not up to the same brightness as Agron’s usual grins. He just looked tired. Paler. “As comfy as I can be,” he answered, giving a shrug. His eyes looked to the cat in question, orange and fluffy. “Thor. The sneaky multi-coloured one that’s hiding is Loki. The little one is Baldur.”
Nasir was happy to see him smiling, at least, even if it was dimmer than usual. It was to be expected, all things considered. He scritched behind Thor’s ears. “You’re damning yourself with a cat named Loki, I hope you know. If your house ends up on fire then you’ll know who did it.”
He hesitated a moment, continuing to pet Thor - it was oddly therapeutic, especially when the fluffball started purring. “...Are you okay?” he asked finally, adding, “Honest answer, please,” very quickly after. “I know that’s a fucking stupid question but. I want to help you, however I can.”
That got a laugh. It all did. That felt good. For all intents and purposes, Agron was a pretty happy person until someone pissed him off. He shrugged again, glancing at his bandaged hands. “My hands are fucked for life. I’m not really doing great, no.”
Agron dropped his head back against the back of the couch. “Sorry. It just pisses me off. I can’t do anything. Do you know how hard it is to get dressed when you can’t feel your fingers move?”
Well at least Agron was laughing. That was something. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”
Nasir bit his lip, feeling useless. He hated feeling useless. “I mean. I think being pissed off is normal. All of the grief counselors I saw told me that feeling angry was a pretty regular thing. Especially when it’s something as fucked up as a dream causing it. I knew they could hurt us but…” He shook his head. “Do you want me to try and look on the bright side for you or just let you be angry?”
“Anyone who says feeling pissed off after being crucified isn’t normal is full of fucking shit.” Agron snorted. He should’ve gone the way of Crixus. Quick and on the battlefield. Not made out to be some sick example. It was worse, he thought, than being forced to fight in their arenas, though Caesar had made it clear that Agron would never fight again.
“I’m going to be angry for a long time,” he said. That was just how Agron was. “But I think I enjoy it when you look on the brightside, as long as the brightside isn’t you saying now you can’t kick my ass anymore.”
“You, angry? Fucking really.” Nasir rolled his eyes, his smile coming a little more natural now. “You’ve never been angry a day in your life. You’re always so calm and level headed.” He couldn’t manage to say it with a straight face, covering his mouth to hide his grin. “And think of it like this: you never have to wear actual pants again. You have a built in excuse to wear sweatpants and gym shorts everywhere for the rest of your life. You get to wear those cool spring shoelaces that turn your shoes into slip ons. And no ties, ever again!” They were weak, because there was no real bright side to this, no actual reason to be anything but furious. But he had to try.
Agron rolled his eyes, puffing out a laugh. He went to raise his arm to cuff Nasir on the back of the head, which was soon aborted because as soon as he moved his arm, a pain shot up through it. Followed by some very colourful swears in Agron’s native tongue. “Fuck this. I’m not doomed to fucking springy laces.”
Nasir ducked automatically, but winced when Agron started cursing. He’d picked up enough of them talking to Agron to get the gist of it. “Be careful,” he admonished, gently. “Guess you’ll have to find an alternative to hitting me for the moment.” He rolled his eyes at the comment. “Just for that, I’m getting you the pink glittery ones. Don’t dis the springy laces. I guess you could also get those really chunky skater shoes that used to be stupidly popular, they probably still make them.”
He hesitated a moment - and it felt weird, being hesitant around Agron, considering the dreams, but he didn’t want to do anything to make him feel worse. He knew what it was like to be treated like glass, like something that could fall apart with a single word, and the only thing it had ever done was make him angrier. “Do you want me to get you anything? Water or whatever?”
“I’ll punch your through the pain if you got me pink springy laces.” Agron’s lips quirked up. He understood the hesitance thing. He had only really just gotten comfortable with Nasir, and it’s not really that he never wasn’t - it’s just that it’s hard to know that some part of you is so in love with a person when this version of you isn’t. It’s just a weird thing to get used to.
“Something stronger would be nice, but I think I’m only allowed water. Bonus points if you get me a straw and hold it up while I drink it.”
“Pink glittery ones, at least get your future right. I’ll take pity on you and get within kicking distance, if it’ll make you feel better. No guarantee I’ll stand still, though.” Nasir grinned at him. Just be as normal as possible. Good.
“If you’re still bleeding or on pain meds, no alcohol. I’d prefer to keep you alive, personally.” He pushed himself up and headed for the kitchen, having to open a few cabinets before he found the glasses. Thankfully the straws were within easy reach, and he returned to Agron victorious. “I’m going to find you one of those ridiculously long straws with all the curls in it, so you can just leave it on the table.” For now, he held it up for Agron to drink out of, kneeling at his side.
“I have no idea what I did in this life or the other one to deserve this from you,” Agron said, puffing out an amused breath.
But he seemed grateful for the water and that Nasir was doing this at all, sipping it through the straw. He watched Nasir, remembering the hazy dream of returning to him. The thought of Nasir had been the only thing getting Agron through anything, really. “I shouldn’t have left your side,” he admitted, after a moment of silence.
“Absolutely nothing, you’re just extremely lucky that I find you charming.” Nasir smiled and, when Agron was finished, set the glass down nearby.
The smile faded, becoming a little tighter. “No,” he said. “But I shouldn’t have left yours, to go to the mines. But we both came back to each other, right? That’s what matters. And if we ever meet either Crixus or Spartacus here we don’t let them convince us to do anything. Agreed?” He doubted either of them would be able to keep that promise, the two of them both too dutiful and honor-bound to deny Spartacus. Crixus was another matter, but apparently he could be convincing enough. At least they knew better than to be swayed by him here, even if they wouldn’t have to contend with the Roman legion. They could probably get into enough trouble anyway.
“Agreed. Let them be bad influences on each other.” Agron wished he could reach out and do something. His initial instinct is to squeeze the back of his neck, a fond gesture, but possibly one to be misinterpreted. Instead, he shrugged, as much as he could.
“You know, this is a good time to work on your German.”
Nasir felt the same - he wanted to touch, to offer comfort, somehow. But what would be too much? They’d probably have to have a talk eventually, about what was and wasn’t okay, because he could only feel the instincts from the dreams getting stronger. How Agron resisted, he didn’t know.
But that was for later. For now, he just groaned at the reminder that he should be studying. Agron’s help was definitely making things a lot easier, he wouldn’t lie. “I’ll get my things,” he said with a sigh, pushing himself up to retrieve his bag.