autonomy ; gawsten

ii

"Holy shit."

He forces a smile, lets the swallow travel down his throat as he twists the cap and holds his water bottle to his lips. "What?"

Otto shakes his head, hops over the counter and holds his arms open as he starts forward. Geoff doesn't have the time to move, to step back, to even think about the next few moments. Otto stretches forward and pulls him against his chest.

He pauses, closes his eyes and lets out a breath against Otto's shoulder. He presses his nose against his collarbone and takes in another gulp of air, holds it and pauses there for a second, lets the breath fester inside his chest and pour water all over the dry and cracking bone.

Otto rubs his back. "Just- didn't expect ta see you this soon. S'only been, what, a week? I didn't think you'd come outta hiding for at least a month."

He shrugs as Otto releases him, straightens and pulls a hand through his hair. "He cheated, not me."

"Geoff-"

He holds up a hand, drops his gaze down to his shoes, and starts to tangle his fingers together. Together and then apart and back together and then apart and together and apart- "It's okay. I can talk about it. I'm not damaged. Please don't treat me like I am."

"You're not." That's a new voice. He looks up and sees Otto do the same out of his peripheral vision. Jawn shuts the door to the break room behind him and joins them among the checkout counter. "And we're fucking prouda you." He shoots a glance at Otto, drops his voice to a whisper and leans into Geoff. "You know how he gets. He's just worried."

Geoff forces a smile and reaches over to sling an arm around Otto's shoulders. "Yeah."

It feels like a thorn in his side. Every time someone brings it up, the stick gets shoved further in. He's bleeding, all the time, pulsating red onto the floor as it hits against his stomach and punctures upward, straight through his heart. He doesn't know how to make it stop.

It feels like yesterday, like a lot of yesterdays stacked up on top of each other to create an iron fist that keeps slamming into the pit of his stomach.

He remembers it like it was yesterday.

He remembers the feeling, a feeling like no other, so separate in its existence, on another level entirely. It was an emotion he'd never felt before; an emotion he didn't know how to feel. It was there and then it was everywhere. The paintballs felt like an avalanche, slamming into his skull one after another. He'd barely gotten over the shock of last before the next hit.

Something collapsed. He heard the giggling, as he walked up the stairs and down the hall, heard rustling sheets and creaking bed springs and the moans.

It was a sound he hadn't heard in months. It was a sound he thought about, a noise that injected itself into his dreams and turned the sheets below him damp by the time he woke up. It had tapered off a few months prior, a rare bird that had dived back into the ground and refused to come up again. He tried whatever he could to draw it back out, but it lay dormant amongst a garden of weeds.

Little did he know, dormancy was temporary and every excuse was arbitrary.

Something collapsed and has been closed in on itself ever since. It's a pile of rubble he can't sort through, a lump of debris he can't reform into anything that functions beyond a thorn in his side. It feels pressing inward, poking and stabbing and breaking skin. He always feels like he's bleeding.

Like he's been ripped open, like that day was a rusty nail that cut through him messily. The line isn't clean and straight and solid. It zig-zags; jagged in all the wrong places, too thick at parts and too wide at others. It pulses blood at so much more of a rapid rate than any clean cut would've.

Nothing about this is clean.

"...Geoff. You okay?"

He shakes his head, swallows against the lump in his throat and lets his vision refocus. Otto has a hand on his chest and Jawn's is curled around his shoulders. Both of them are staring at him. Otto's eyes are wide. His bottom lip is pulled between his teeth and his free hand is gripping the hem of his shirt tightly. Jawn's jaw is set. His eyes are narrow. His grip around his shoulders is tight.

"Yeah." He forces the word to come out level. It's all he can do to keep his voice from breaking, keep the sob held back in his chest and the tears away from his eyes. He can't cry anymore. "Sorry."

"Don't you dare apologize," Jawn mutters. "If I ever see that dickhole again, I swear to god I'll-"

"Stop," he whispers. "Please."

"Jawn," Otto adds quietly. "Don't."

"In like, six months, when you're over the sad shit and just wanna burn him to the ground, I'll kick his ass. And you'll thank me, I promise."

He swallows. It's too much. The world feels too big, like everything doubled in size overnight and he's still here, still trying to navigate through everything as a fraction of what he once was. Nothing feels right. Nothing feels whole.

Everything is on fire and he's an endless tap of gasoline.

The world is too big and it just keeps growing.

He's shrinking down to half his size and everything is going up in flames and it's all burning toohottoohottoohot. He doesn't know where to go. He doesn't know what the next step is. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to do any of it.

He forces a smile. "So, where's Zakk?"

Jawn pushes away from him and throws his arms up in the air in one motion, shakes his head vigorously. "Called out. A-fucking-gain. M'so sick of his shit, I fucking swear. Leavin' me ta do inventory and run register. He's outta his fuckin' mind."

"Relax, dude. He looked awful last night."

"He drank five fucking beers," Jawn deadpans. "I sure fucking hope so. But so did I, and I'm here, aren't I? What's his fuckin' excuse? A hangover? Bullshit."

"He said he'd be over mine tonight ta watch the game," Otto replies. "Ya can yell at him then." He drops his voice when he speaks next. "Geoff? You...are you up for it? Grace is goin' out with some friends, so it'll just be the four of us. Oh, and Travis. I totally get it, if you're not ready yet. But it might be nice to hang again, take your mind off shit, ya know?"

Everything sounds toned down. Subdued. It's like they flick a switch in their heads when they talk to him. Otto does that soft voice with the big eyes and hands on his shoulders and Jawn is big and angry and ready for a hug whenever he needs it and Zakk can't stop curling into his side, pressing his lips against the side of his head and promising he's here no matter what.

And maybe, if he was good and trusting and put his faith in people, everything would be easier.

If he was good and trusting and put his faith in people-

He doesn't know anything anymore.