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Martyn was bleeding.
No. No, please. Don’t do this to me. Shock-glassy eyes held his own. Blood ran into the cracks between his teeth. “Why would you do that?” Ren croaked. Reaching out, he brushed blond bangs from Martyn’s eyes. When he did, the blood on his fingers traced patterns over Martyn’s face. Shock glazed the green, made his eyes look glassy like bottles. They didn’t look right. In the light of the Undercity, the redstone cast a dark color to everything. His eyes looked jet black, like the stones lining the bedrock. “Martyn? Why would you do that?”
A ragged gasp split the air as Martyn inhaled. The world was blood. Blood and pain and claw marks running from Martyn’s throat to his hips, curling over his shoulders and arms, stabbing deep into his left thigh and curling around his right calf where he had been ripped into. The bird-man had been so fast, Ren had barely been able to catch up, he hadn’t been able to get there in time and he hadn’t even heard it coming. This should be him on the floor, him bleeding out. Not Martyn. Never Martyn.
“I—couldn’t let—” Gasping again, bubbling and crackling as his lungs flooded with blood, Martyn looked at the ceiling. He wasn’t even dying in the sunlight. He was dying in the Lower Levels. They were practically in the Deep Dark. This wasn’t where he belonged, and Ren had brought him here anyways, and now Martyn—
Martyn needed help.
Who can fix this? Who can save him? Ren wondered. The thought burst to his mind. Doc. Etho. They can help.
Picking up Martyn, whispering apologies into blond hair at the pain he caused, Ren started running.
How did we even end up here?
xxx
It had been a date.
Ren had so excited about it that his tail wouldn’t stop wagging. Lea and his mother had been teasing him about it the entire day. When the time finally rolled around, he hurried to go and pick up Martyn from his home. Biting his lip, he had stood on Martyn’s doorstep with a bouquet of flowers. Hopefully Martyn liked them. They were roses. Just…classic roses. Couldn’t go wrong with roses, right? Well, roses and carnations. Wait, was Martyn allergic to flowers? This had been a terrible idea, he should have nixed the flowers—didn’t one color of rose mean friendship and not romance? Did he accidentally get friendship flowers for Martyn? Should he have gotten him flowers for his birth month? Wait, what month was Martyn born in? April, right? What were the flowers for April?
Then Martyn opened the door, and Ren panicked. Flowers went everywhere. Mostly because he had the worst startle response ever, and he accidentally threw the bouquet. Both he and Martyn yelped. The flowers scattered on the floor. “Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry—” Dropping down, Ren scooped the flowers back together. “Oh, dude, this is so bad, I should have just skipped the flowers, I’m so sorry, I made a mess—”
“No, no, it’s okay. It’s alright.” Martyn’s hands brushed his. Sometimes, Ren wondered if he was ever going to be able to act like a normal person when their hands met. At least his glamor was active. If it wasn’t, his tail would have been thumping on the ground, his ears would have been pinned back. This was so bad, this was horrible—“Oh, Ren, just—let me help, please?”
They proceeded to bonk foreheads as Ren finally managed to get the bouquet somewhat presentable. Then, standing up, Martyn almost fell over. Ren had to catch his arm and almost dropped the flowers again.
So the date was going great.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Ren winced at the bouquet in his hands. “I must have been fiddling with the ribbon, I’m so sorry, dude. That was totally my fault. Uh—here.” He held out the bouquet, face flushed. “This is—this is for you.”
Eyes wide, green sparkling in the hallway lights, Martyn looked down at the flowers. Then, he took them. Their eyes darted down. Both of them studied the flowers. Then, Ren sucked in a breath.
“Oh, sorry, dude. I—one of the carnations is upside down.” Plucking the white carnation out of the bouquet, he righted it and then handed it over. Smiling, holding the flowers to his chest, Martyn took the carnation from him. His eyes sparkled a bit.
Nether, Martyn was so handsome. He’d pulled his hair back, a few loose strands hanging in front of his ears and his bangs fluffy like he’d been messing with them recently. Paint from the last time he had roped Martyn into helping him and the prop department still spattered the knees of his jeans, bright yellow against the blue denim. His beat-up sneaker and Overworld Space Association sweater were in better shape. When he reached up to rub the back of his neck, Ren spotted a pink band-aid on his right ring finger. There was another, yellow and blue, on his left thumb. Both were characters from some kids movie Ren hadn’t watched until high school in the acclimation program.
“Well, let me just—put these inside. Why don’t you come in with me?” Stepping to the side, Martyn smiled at him, and Ren couldn’t ignore that. So, he slipped inside.
He’d never been in Martyn’s apartment before. It didn’t look half bad. The comforting smell of Martyn’s shampoo—pumpkin spice, how did he find pumpkin spice shampoo, where did he find pumpkin spice shampoo—and vanilla candles settled on him. He glanced around. There were plants in a lot of the sunny spaces. A lot of greens, browns, and tans. Nice colors. Comforting colors. Sure, Ren loved colors—they were pretty, things were so bright in the Overcity and his own apartment and wardrobe were a mishmash of colors. He was pretty sure green was now his favorite color. It was the color of Martyn’s eyes, and the pillows on his couch, and the plants sitting on his window sills.
Taking a deep breath of vanilla and spice, Ren turned to look for Martyn.
The man was standing in his kitchen, carefully filling a vase with water. His face was so soft, eyes half-lidded and lips turned up in a smile. I want to kiss you. I don’t want to let you go. His heart should not have been acting the way it did.
Sighing contently, Ren watched him as he finished. Martyn’s eyes flicked up at him. Looking at him with a crooked smile, he tilted his head to the side. “You alright, Ren? You look a bit starstruck.”
“Uh, what?” Shaking his head, Ren swallowed when Martyn walked over and touched his cheek. Apparently, Martyn used vanilla lotion. Or soap. Something like that.
Ren gulped.
Martyn’s eyes sparked with something and he grinned. “You’re a bit warm. Do you want to sit down?”
“N-no, no. I’m—” He had never had a stuttering problem before. Why was he stuttering now? Why was he spluttering and stumbling over his words like he had been thrown into an improv session having a panic attack? How was he spluttering like this? How was Martyn doing this to him? “I’m fine, dude.”
“Dude.” Martyn echoed, snickering as he pulled away. Despite how it had made his heart flutter like a trapped butterfly, Ren wanted his hand back. The warmth was nice. Bumping a hip against Ren’s own, he teased, “Come on, puppy love. We have a date to go on, don’t we?”
“Right. Yep, right. We have—we have a date. Let’s—go.” Ren pointed.
Looping his arm with Ren’s, Martyn laughed and led him from the apartment.
xxx
When they reached the Undercity, things went wrong.
They hadn’t immediately gone wrong. That wasn’t what mattered, though. One moment, Martyn had been following Ren around and looking at everything with bright eyes. It was like he’d never seen it before, even though he definitely had. This time, though, he was just…a lot calmer. And having fun. And not terrified that he was being pursued by Gem and Mumbo, the poor things.
Then, distantly, he could hear screaming. Something whistled. Wingbeats. He didn’t think anything of it first. Then, suddenly, Martyn’s eyes darted over his shoulder. They widened. “Ren, move!”
Martyn shoved him to the side. The world almost flipped. Catching himself against the railing, Ren gasped. Martyn screamed. Something shrieked—a bird-man. No. Under his grasp, the railing creaked. It must have been older than he thought. Worse, the bird-man slammed into the railing. A long, taloned claw pushed against the rail. Gasping, Ren stared at Martyn. Green eyes met his, dyed black by the redstone lighting above their heads.
Fear flashed across Martyn’s face.
The railing snapped, Ren fell backwards, the bird-man slashed across Martyn’s neck.
The reek of blood split the air.
There was a flash of wings. “Ren!” A familiar voice shouted. He caught a brief glimpse of Gem grabbing the railing and looking at him. Wes appeared next to her a moment later. There was a flash of dark wings. Diving, Mumbo reached out. The wind whipped around them.
Stretching, Mumbo shouted, “Grab my hand!”
Ren reached out. Their fingers locked together. Both hands wrapping around his wrists, Mumbo slammed his wings out. He shouted, then threw them both to the side. They went rolling on the ground. White sparks danced in Ren’s vision. Gasping, he grabbed Mumbo and wrapped himself around the man. Their backs slammed into the nearest wall.
Wes and Gem reached them moments later. Hands settled on his shoulder. Looking up, Ren glanced around. He let go of Mumbo, scrambling to his feet. “Martyn—we need to grab—” His knee buckled. Grabbing his arms, Wes pulled him back upright. Meeting his gaze, Ren rasped, "We need to find Martyn. He got—he—”
“You need to stay here—” Wes said, “They were heading towards the Deep Dark, I’ll send a message to the clans down there—”
“No!” Ripping away, Ren shoved Wes back and then started running. Blood dripped into his left eye. He must have been injured when he was running. Wiping it away, he pushed his legs harder. Come on, come on. Please. “MARTYN!”
Hopefully, Martyn could hear him. Skidding to a stop at the railing, Ren glanced around. He spotted a pulley lift nearby. Sprinting down the steps, shoving past the few people on the catwalks, he apologized. Then, he jumped onto the lift, shoes skidding on the wood. Behind him, Wes was on his heels. Gem and Mumbo were gone.
Throwing the levers into position, Ren grabbed the edge of the lift and looked down. “Ren, you—”
The rattling sound of the pulleys working cut off whatever Wes had to say. Looking into the dark, Ren glanced around. He didn’t even bother waiting for the lift to stop before he leapt over the surrounding gates. His shoulders collided with cat and dog hybrids’. People’s eyes landed on him. Turning, he looked. Listened for screams. For the bird-man. For Martyn.
“MARTYN!” He bellowed, voice rattling the surrounding people. More of the crowd looked at him. Panting, he froze, looking around again.
“Ren!”
It was faint. It was there. It was Martyn.
Panting, Ren sprinted through more of the fields. He leapt around broken pipes. Minecarts. Broken wooden posts. “Martyn, I’m coming!” He roared, grabbing the closest thing he could use as a weapon. Snatching it up, he kept running. “Martyn!”
“REN!” Martyn’s voice pitched up with fear. Looking around, Ren darted through the tunnels. Something hot sparked in his chest, burning through the fear like a wildfire and replacing it with rage. Fury.
Martyn screamed again, in pain. No, not pain. Agony. This was agony. This was pain that he could not escape. No. No, this isn’t happening this won’t happen I won’t let it I won’t let you—
Ren leapt off of the outcropping he found himself on without even glancing at the drop, eyes focused on the bird-man and jagged pole in his grasp.
The bird-man lifted its head. Blood dripped from its beak, the odd, too-human teeth sticking out and catching in the redstone light above them. It looked almost like an oversized barn owl, but the eyes were bright yellow and too human in shape. One of its talons was gripping Martyn’s left leg, claws driven into his thigh. Blood wet his clothes. Dyed-black, green eyes stared up at the bird-man, horror splitting his face. They fluttered closed as Ren’s jump took him over the bird-man.
Spotted brown wings unfolded. Roaring, Ren landed on the beast’s shoulders, knocking it from Martyn. Twisting, he rolled. The bird-man’s talons scraped horribly on the metal floor. Grip tightening on the pole, Ren dropped into a fighting position. “Come on!” He shouted. With a shriek, the bird-man lunged.
Ren sidestepped it, swinging the pole. The metal slammed into the bird-man’s head.
They had been working on a production of The Odyssey. He wanted to add sword-fighting. Some of his students had been struggling with it.
He had joined in. They’d all been laughing at the end of the sessions.
He wasn’t laughing now.
Feathers went flying. Beating its wings, the bird-man regained its balance. It turned on him. Ren placed himself between it and Martyn. I will not move.
You will not get past me.
I will not let you. Baring his teeth in a snarl, Ren prepared for another lunge. The bird-man shrieked again. Posturing, it straightened up and shrieked. Ren snarled, holding it in his throat. They stood there. Straightening his shoulders, Ren continued to growl. The two of them stood there.
An arrow struck the bird-man in the shoulder. Shrieking, it stumbled back. “Go take care of your boy-toy!” Wes shouted, jumping down with more of the clan behind him, weapons drawn.
Nodding, Ren threw his pole aside and then ran to Martyn’s side. His knees cracked against the metal as he dropped down, hands out. “Please—” He gasped.
(Right. That was how they ended up here. That was how—)
xxx
The world was flashing by.
Panting, Martyn curled his fingers in Ren’s shirt. Everything hurt. The world had narrowed down to this, his boyfriend holding him close and the world shaking and pain pain pain pain pain again and again and again and he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t—
“I know, I know. Ssh, ssh. It’s okay. It’s okay, Martyn. We’re—we’re going to get you help.” Ren murmured. Lips pressed to his hair. The touch hurt. Everything hurt.
The bird-man had moved so fast. He had barely had time to shove Ren out of the way. Coughing, copper flooding his mouth, Martyn tilted his head back. He had a nice view of Ren’s jaw. Looking around, ears pinned back and eyes wide, Ren gasped. His heart was pounding. Martyn could feel his pulse thundering against his ear.
The world darkened.
“Martyn!”
Ren looked up at him in the catwalk, teeth flashing in the spotlights as he flashed a smile. Smiling down at him, Martyn tipped his head to the side. “Something up with the tech?” He called down, throwing an arm against the railing and leaning against it. Looking at him, Ren brightened. “Or is it something else?”
Looking at him, Ren asked, “Mind helping me with something real quick?”
“Martyn, stay with me, we’re almost there—”
“When you asked for my help, I didn’t think you meant, ‘hey Martyn, let me sweep you into a dip and a bridal carry’.” Martyn laughed, reaching up to brush a hand over Ren’s hair. Then, he ran his hand down Ren’s face, cupping his cheek for a moment. Their eyes met. Ren grinned brighter. Martyn could have sworn he saw his fangs for a brief second. Maybe not, though. Maybe Ren just had sharper canines.
Why couldn’t he breathe?
“Martyn, please—”
“What happened?”
Ren’s eyes were so bright. His smile was so bright. The spotlights were so hot.
There was blood on Martyn’s lips. Copper flooded his mouth. It was a sickening feeling. He’d had it before, when he and Scott fought. When they broke up. When they destroyed each other.
Why was there blood in his mouth?
“—out of the way of a bird-man—”
“He’s a fool—”
“Yes, sure, fine, but can you save him? Please?”
“I don’t know.”
Ren. Ren, Ren, Ren Ren Ren why was Ren scared why did he sound like that why did he sound like that—
“You really don’t know how to dance, do you?”
Ren laughed, glancing down at their feet for the seventh time in as many seconds. His eyes darted back up to Martyn, swallowed by the shadows of Ren’s apartment. Grinning at him, Martyn let himself be pulled along clumsily. “I didn’t have the chance to learn this dance, Martyn. Forgive me for focusing on other things.”
“You’re a drama teacher, why can’t you waltz?”
“This isn’t exactly a normal waltz.”
“Of course not, why would be normal?” Martyn flashed him a wolfish grin. Ren returned it immediately. “Do you know me at all, Ren?”
Pulling him close, Ren laughed. His fingers slipped from Martyn’s. Using the chance, Martyn drifted his fingers over Ren’s wrist, ring finger brushing Ren’s pulse point before he swept his hand over to cup Ren’s face. His skin was soft, warm, rugged with his beard. Orange light from the street outside and the purple shadows of the house painted his face.
Ren drove his claws into Martyn’s stomach.
Gasping, Martyn stared at him, wide-eyed. He wavered. Hand rising to Rena’s, he looked up. “R-Ren?” He croaked. There was copper in his mouth.
“Martyn, hold—hold on, I’m so sorry, it’s going to be okay, I promise—” Ren’s mouth wasn’t moving, it was—“Doc!”
Everything dropped out.
xxx
Martyn’s hand was cold.
Standing at the sink, washing the blood from his hands, Doc said, “He’ll be fine, Ren. The chill is because of blood loss.”
Did I say that out loud? Ren turned to look at him. Before even a few heartbeats had passed, he had turned back to Martyn. He couldn’t—he couldn’t bring himself to pull his gaze from Martyn for more than a few seconds. The last time he had, Martyn had been ruined.
His arms were bruised, wrists and forearms covered in what Doc listed as defensive wounds. End, he had tried to fight back against the bird-man. It hadn’t even worked. Stitches crisscrossed his body, black and jagged and a strike of violence against previously unmarked skin. A large, white medical patch was taped over the left side of his chest. Ren had been focused on Martyn’s face when Etho and Doc put whatever implant they had in him. (He didn’t want to see it, anyways.) The bird-man had torn into Martyn, shredded the flesh of his chest, his shoulders, his stomach—“Ren.” Lifting his head, he turned. Golden eyes met his own. Standing in the doorway, one hand on the wall, Lea smiled softly.
“Lea.” She crossed to his side, pulling a chair over and sitting beside him. Her eyes scanned over Martyn’s body. He wasn’t bare—Doc and Etho had had to strip him of his sweater and jeans, which had been shredded anyways. He’d been left in his boxers, Etho had covered him with a blanket, but it still hurt to see. Clutching Martyn’s hand, Ren choked out, “He needs clothes. The bird—the other ones were shredded.”
“I heard. I’m sorry.” Lea touched his arm gently.
Swallowing, Ren stared down at his and his boyfriend’s intertwined fingers. The band-aids were still on his fingers. They were dirty, marked with blood. They needed to be replaced. He didn’t know where he would find new ones. “It’s not your fault.”
Gently, Lea rubbed her hand up and down his arm. The movement was soothing. “I heard from Wes that you fought it for him.”
“I did.” Ren swallowed. “He threw me out of the way. I don’t even know how he heard or saw it before I did. But—it should have been me. I should be the one lying on the table.”
“Don’t say that.” Turning, Ren met her gaze. Then, he turned back to Martyn. “Ren.”
Maybe it was the lighting of Doc’s kitchen table (and when did Doc leave? Ren didn’t know where he was anymore), but Martyn looked awful. There was an IV in his other arm, dried blood under his nose and around his lips. More in his hair. On his skin. Etho and Doc had done their best, but they didn’t—they didn’t even have an oxygen mask for him, Etho was having to go down to the labs to fetch that sort of thing for him. They didn’t even have extra bandages.
“Getting attacked by bird-men is par for the course in the Undercity, if you’re the wrong person or just in the wrong place at the wrong time. All of us have our scars, and now—” Looking at the exposed stitches, Ren shook his head. “Those will never leave him. Martyn’s from the Overcity. He’s not even meant to be here, and I—I brought him here. This is my fault. If I hadn’t brought him down here—”
“Then maybe the bird-man would have made it to the surface and attacked him there, anyways. We know the monsters find their ways through the rifts. We don’t know what could have happened, but—” With a sigh, Lea’s grip on his arm tightened a bit. “Ren. This isn’t your fault. Would you want Dad to blame himself if Wes took a hit for him.”
“Dad and Wes are trained.”
“And you and Martyn are?” Lea asked. “You went into the acclimation program because you had such a passion for sunlight. For theatre. That’s why you live in the Overcity and we don’t. There’s nothing wrong with that, Ren. Living in the Undercity is difficult, and you know this. This is not your fault.”
“But what if it is?” Ren forced himself to let go of Martyn’s hand. Settling it against the table, he looked at his sister again. “What if—”
“Do you remember what Dad said?” Lea asked, cutting him off. Reaching up, she grabbed his face, made him turn to look at her. Pale blue eyes burned into golden. With a quick breath, Lea continued before he even had the chance to consider a reply, “If ‘what ifs’ were money, then we would all be rich. If wishes were food, we would never starve. But that’s not how the world works. That’s not how people work. What’s your plan, Ren?”
“What?”
She tilted her head towards Martyn, then continued, “What’s your plan? Are you going to break up with him? Are you going to abandon him just because he got hurt? Do you think he is so fragile that this is something that will break him? Is he a pane of glass, or is he a person?”
“Martyn is just human—”
“And thank the Aether for that.” Lea straightened up, eyes flashing. “Humans built the Overcity, and it rocks with every earthquake. Buildings break and tumble, the city has scars in the forms of rifts, and they come back and repair each and every time. And what about your students? I’m sure they’ve had their shares of heartbreaks, of bad injuries, falls from the stage and messed-up lines and casting calls that didn’t go the way they wanted them to. What did they do, then? Do you think so little of Martyn that as soon as things get hard, you’re going to walk away from him? What about what he wants? No, forget that—what about what you want? Not the fear, not the worry—think about where it comes from. Think about why it’s here. And if you’re going to be a dumbass, at least let Wes and I know so we can get your head back on your shoulders the right way.”
Looking at her, Ren paused. He turned back to Martyn.
Lying on the table, chest heaving, Martyn let out a low whimper. His brows furrowed together. Automatically, Ren went to smooth a hand over his cheek. Beside him, Lea waited, silent.
The door opened.
Raising his head, Ren turned. Etho walked in, holding an oxygen tank and a few other items in his hands. Behind him, looking solemn, were Pearl and Grian. The two of them walked over quietly, set the medical equipment they had brought in down, and then retreated. The most they did was Pearl, gently touching Ren’s shoulder, and then leaving. The two of them closed the door quietly.
As for Etho, he murmured gentle orders to Ren and Lea as they bandaged up Martyn’s wounds, worked a pair of ratty shorts onto him, and then fixed the oxygen mask to Martyn’s face. Then, he turned to Lea, “I heard that Seb and Cris wanted to bring him down to your home?”
“He saved one of ours. It’s the least we can do to repay him.”
With a nod, Etho pulled a packet of paper out of his pocket and then handed it over to her. “The medical information you’ll need is in here. He’ll need someone to check his injuries, and I trust you can work with that all. There are more oxygen tanks that he’s going to need, I’ll come by every single day with more to give you for his sake.” The pair kept talking.
Tuning them out, Ren clutched Martyn’s hand still. He kept studying Martyn’s face. I need to tell the university that Martyn and I are going to be taking sick days. Leaning down, he brushed Martyn’s hair from his forehead. Lea and Etho watched him press a kiss to Martyn’s skin.
Then, Ren hurried out of the house.
xxx
A week passed, and Martyn did not wake.
Every day, Ren finished his work and then hurried down to the Undercity, making his way to his parents’ house. Martyn was holed up in his old room, lying unconscious on the bed. Usually, Seb would come in. Lea or Cris would help clean Martyn’s injuries, checking to make sure that they were clean, that they weren’t infected, that Martyn hadn’t gotten sores from lying in the same bed. The mattress wasn’t comfortable. They couldn’t bring him to the Overcity hospitals.
He’d explained it to the university as Martyn having some surgery for his heart. That was why he needed the sick days. It was sudden. It was an emergency. It was stressful. Thankfully, they’d been working at the college for so long. They had the rapport. Ren and Martyn didn’t take sick days, because they loved their jobs and they loved the people they worked with. (The fact that Ren looked like an absolute disaster probably helped. He hadn’t slept right since Martyn had been attacked. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw—)
He hadn’t told them what the surgery, hadn’t told them about holding Martyn’s hand as Doc and Etho tore into him just to try saving him, hadn’t told them about the new hardware in Martyn’s chest, or the ruined state of his leg. Hadn’t told them about watching Doc remove the pieces of shattered collarbone that had been lodged in Martyn’s muscle and around his heart. Hadn’t told them about watching Etho try to fix Martyn’s legs.
When he walked inside the house, Martyn was lying in his bed. Still asleep. Still playing Sleeping Beauty, but Ren couldn’t just give him true love’s kiss to wake him up. No one could have. Etho must have stopped by recently. The tanks had a different strike of paint by the pressure valve, fluorescent green instead of blue like they had been the day before.
Lea was sitting beside Martyn, carefully brushing out his shoulder-length hair with delicate hands. Golden eyes soft with some emotion Ren couldn’t name, she turned and picked up some butterfly clips from one of their nieces. “You know, Ren is worried about you.” She said, looking at Martyn’s slack face. The oxygen mask fogged up and cleared in an even beat. It was the one tempo that Ren found himself never getting sick of. Still, Lea didn’t realize he was there. Leaning against the doorway, Ren watched her as she carefully braided Martyn’s hair. His eyes were still closed, bruises painted into the skin beneath his eyes. “I’m sure you know exactly how much. I don’t think he’s ever—I mean, he was trained. I know he was trained, I know he can fight monsters just like the rest of the clan, but. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him use that training as an adult.”
Gently, she brushed some of Martyn’s bangs from his face. It wouldn’t matter. The pinch to his eyebrows didn’t go away. It stayed. Wheezing into the mask, Martyn still laid there in the bed. He didn’t respond. He didn’t say anything. He just…laid there. Slept.
“But he used that training for you. I heard from Wes he jumped off a cliff for you.” Laughing softly, Lea added in a fond tone, “You make him take care of himself, and you make him do things that are so reckless. You haven’t even—he’s changed so much. He’s brighter. I thought I had seen him happy, and it’s not like I think you’ve completed his life, but I swear the two of you have added more into each other’s lives than you even now. He’s so happy. He was happy before, he was excited, and you’ve made him even more happy. So just…keep holding on. Keep fighting. We haven’t talked much. I’d like to talk more.”
Ren choked on his breath, felt it hitch in his throat.
Ear twitching back, Lea raised her head and turned to look at him. She smiled softly. Then, turning back around, she placed the butterfly clip in Martyn’s hair to finish off his braid. “Hello, Ren. How was work?”
“It was alright. Has he done anything?” Lea chuckled. Walking over to the other empty chair, Ren settled down. He dropped his bag right next to it, reached out to take Martyn’s hand. He was still on an IV, still wrapped in blankets. He’s lost weight.
“Unfortunately not. Still no bedsores, thankfully.” With a roll of her eyes, she added, “Someone managed to spill a potion on him, so we had to give him a bath again.”
“That’s going to be an interesting conversation to have when he’s conscious.” Ren joked weakly. Pitching his voice, he managed a weak imitation of her voice, “Hey, dude, sorry, but we had to give you a bath. You’ve been out for a week, you started to smell—”
“You say that like it’s an unusual thing. Happens all the time in the clans. I can’t even count the number of times I’ve had one of the cat hybrids or someone else from the dog clans popping up to borrow our soap or whatever because someone got knocked out again.” Lea huffed. “And we’re not telling him. He has recovery to focus on, not being embarrassed that his potential future mother-in-law and sister-in-law saw him bare as the day he was born. Move over, I’m braiding the other side of his hair. And get grading, you can’t slack on grades right now.”
“Alright, alright.” As she and Ren traded places, Lea used his own grading folder to thwack him in the hip. "Hey! Lady!"
"Well, dude, you need to get grading! And you dropped these.” He laughed, taking the folder.
On the bed, Martyn shifted.
Both Ren and Lea whipped around to look at him. He didn’t wake up, didn’t stir. But he moved, and so Ren and Lea were immediately at his side. Reaching out, Lea touched his shoulder. Ren cupped his face.
“Martyn? Martyn, can you hear me?” Ren asked. As he watched, Martyn cracked his eyes open. They didn’t open for long. “Martyn.”
Martyn closed his eyes. Staring at him, Ren glanced at his sister. She reached over and touched his arm. “It’s okay, this is normal. He’s waking up, that’s a good thing. He’s probably going to wake up a couple of times before he stays awake, it’s okay. I promise.”
Ren nodded, swallowing. With a shaky breath, he turned to Martyn, laid another kiss on his forehead. As he did, he whispered, “Take your time, Martyn. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
xxx
Martyn was floating.
It was an odd feeling. He was standing in his apartment, except the lighting was all shades of gold and copper and the candles were all pine. Why were they all pine? Why were the lights so strange?
Stumbling through his kitchen, Martyn glanced around. There was a vase sitting on his table. Red roses and white carnations, dyed orange by the strange light. Walking over, Martyn touched one of the carnations. The petal was soft under his fingertips.
Then, rot swarmed over the white. Dark brown seeped into the white almost like spilled dye soaking into white fabric. With a gasp, Martyn yanked his hand away. The flowers wilted rapidly, stems bending and breaking. The petals drifted to the table, rotting. The world rocked. The copper and gold light shattered, darkening to dark brown and gingery-brown. Spots danced in his vision. There were eyes on the back of his neck, but when he whipped around he found nothing. There were flashes of glowing yellow eyes in his peripheral. The monster—
“Martyn, hold on!”
“—happening?”
“—rejecting the redstone, it happens—”
There were hands on his face. Gasping, Martyn staggered back. His heart was pounding, blood roaring in his ears. Copper flooded his mouth. Doubling over, he choked.
Blood spattered the floor. Gasping, Martyn grabbed his chest, his shirt. There was red spilling across the jumper. His knees cracked against the floor. More blood spilled across his jeans, there was a ragged gash in his thigh and his calf—
Grasping at his throat, he sank forward further. The floor came dangerously close. His wrist burned where he propped himself up. He watched with blurry vision, breath catching in his throat, as wounds curled over his skin, his wrist, his forearm, his shoulder. Shaking, he blinked. He’d started crying. He didn’t know from what. Fear, maybe?
“Martyn, hey, dude, focus on me—”
Ren.
“—focus on me, focus on me, please, please please we still need to finish our date we need to go and get dinner together I wanted to take you to Lizzie and Joel’s bakery properly this time, dude, please Martyn please—”
His elbow buckled, sending him to the floor. The dark brown edged in on his vision. Martyn gasped for air. There was copper in his throat, the reek and burn of blood in his nose. Chest heaving, he stared at his apartment door. Ren. I want—where’s Ren? I can hear him. Where is he? Where—
He couldn’t feel his legs anymore, or his fingers. Logically, he knew that he was holding onto his shirt. His hand hadn’t gone anywhere. Wheezing, he tried to lift his head. Opening his mouth, he choked out—Ren. Ren, please.
No. I have to—
There was green and purple, just on the edges of his vision. I don’t want to die here! He screamed. No one could hear him. His chest was tight. Someone was squeezing it, a vice around his ribs and lungs. I don’t want to die—
One of the flowers, a carnation, fell to the floor in front of him. Staring at it, vision rapidly turning dark brown as air continued to evade him, Martyn frowned. Grab it. A voice in the back of his mind ordered. It sounded sort of like Lea’s, honestly.
Gritting his teeth, Martyn curled his fingers into his palm. He threw his hand out. His fingers brushed the flowers, he wrapped his hand around it and ripped his arm back to his chest. His grip crushed the flower. Dark brown spotted the white like a moth’s wings.
Martyn gasped.
xxx
Ren was there when Martyn woke, which was a blessing in and of itself.
He didn’t know where he was. Something was stuck in his nose, uncomfortably so. There was tape on his cheeks. The place was too clinical, too sterile. His first thought was that he was in a hospital, but then he saw the interesting patterns on the handmade curtains. One was a light brown, dotted with spotted red and brown mushrooms. The other was light blue and covered with yellow ducks. They had been crocheted. An interesting choice. I wonder how long those took to make? He tilted his head to the side, and there was Ren. He was on Martyn’s left.
When Martyn shifted, he paused. His hand went to his neck. There was the pull of an IV as he moved his hand. His fingers brushed bandages at his throat. His hand was in a similar state. Slowly, Martyn took in his current state, feeling over his chest, his arms, down his sides. More bandages, stitches beneath them—he’d gone to the hospital in the Overcity once, because he had fallen and scraped his arm rather badly on some scaffolding in the threatre department while working on some tech. He knew what stitches and bandages felt like. That wasn’t the most significant thing, though.
There was something on his legs. Slowly, pushing himself up, aware of Ren’s eyes on him off to his side, Martyn pulled the blankets aside. His breath hitched. Oh.
Slowly, he ran his hand over the—was it a brace? He hoped it was a brace, but the metal components didn’t look quite normal. Redstone glowed in the wiring. Drawing his hand over it, Martyn took a slow, shaky breath. Okay. This is—is this permanent? Is this going to be norm—
His eyes darted to his left leg, where the hospital gown he wore had run up. Hissing, he touched it. Cold metal met his fingers. He saw just the edge of a pair of boxers, he didn’t even think before reaching up to rip at the collar of his gown—
“Martyn, Martyn—dude—” Gently, Ren took his hands, pulled them away from the gown. Whipping his head around, Martyn looked at him. His hair fell around his shoulders, loose. He could have sworn he remembered someone braiding it—
Pale blue eyes held his, sympathetic.
“What happened?” Martyn croaked.
Wincing, Ren opened his mouth, “There was a bird-man—”
“Not that, I remember that. I—are you okay?” He grabbed Ren’s arms, looking him up and down. “I saw you jump off, like, a cliff—you almost fell from the catwalk, shit, fuck—I mean that was amazing but are you okay?”
“You’re asking me if I’m okay?” Ren asked, even as Martyn looked up and cupped his cheek. Scanning his face, Martyn took a breath. Something that had been clawing at the insides of his chest soothed itself when he found Ren had no injuries. Sighing, he relaxed back in the bed.
“I am.”
“I’m…I’m alive.” Ren said.
Looking at him, Martyn smiled. “Good. I’m glad for that.” As he watched, Ren’s face crumpled. Nope. No, not doing this. He had seen this look before, with people who he had turned down. Grabbing Ren’s hands in his own, Martyn added, “I know you’re probably feeling guilty right now, but this isn’t your fault.”
“I brought you down to the Undercity—”
“And I shoved you out of the way of the bird-man. I’m an adult, I make my own choices.” Lifting his head, Martyn forced out, “Don’t take that from me, Ren. Please.”
Before Ren could respond, the door opened, and he and Martyn both turned.
Doc walked into the room. His gaze flicked up, intimidating as hell. “Good to see you’re awake. Welcome to the Undercity’s Labs. Originally you were down with Ren’s clan in the lower levels. Now you’re here.”
“How long have I been out?” Martyn asked.
“You were unconscious for a week after the original incident when we moved you here. It’s been another three days since. It’s noon of the fourth day, I guess.” Doc replied. In his hands, there was a clipboard. He strode over. Wow, he’s tall. Martyn thought, mouth suddenly dry.
Ren handed him a cup of water. Sending him a soft smile, Martyn turned back to Doc and sipped on his water. When he finished his sip, he asked, “Two questions. Maybe three. Was anyone hurt? What happened to my legs? Is the brace permanent?”
“The only person hurt was you. There was some minor property damage, that’s typical of monster attacks in the Undercity and honestly it didn’t make much of a difference. The brace is not permanent. We had to operate on your legs.” Gesturing to Martyn’s right leg, he said, “We managed to repair the torn muscle fibers, though you’ll have some severe bruising and a decent amount of scarring. Over the counter scar creams should be able to prevent it from getting to a point where your mobility will be limited. Your left leg is a little more complicated.”
“Can you give me a breakdown of everything?” Martyn asked. Reaching out, he grabbed Ren’s hand. Their fingers tangled together. “Please?”
Doc nodded, then started reading off the clipboard, “You had very deep lacerations from your throat to your hips. We managed to repair the internal bleeding and the muscle fibers there, too. You have defensive wounds on your forearms, wrists, and hands. Those lacerations were also stitched up and easy to repair.” Pausing, Doc sighed. “Unfortunately, there was some worse damage than we considered. I’m sure you know this from experience, but bird-men’s beaks are incredibly sharp. Their teeth are serrated on the inside. Getting slashed with it once is like getting slashed multiple times. They’re also carnivores.”
“So it tried eating me.” Martyn looked down at his and Ren’s linked hands. His gaze darted to the inside of his left thigh. Instead of his skin, there was a section of muscle and skin that had been replaced by the same silver plating that Doc had, though there were more lines running across it. Probably to make it easier to walk. The metal was…melded into his skin, somehow. He didn’t know how it worked. He didn’t think he wanted to.
“Yes.”
“How much—”
“We had to replace a section of your femur and a bit of your quadriceps and adductor muscles. Your left collarbone was in a similar state, though that was shattered.” With another pause, Doc waited. Martyn nodded. Then, almost apologetically, Doc added, “We had to remove it entirely. And then there’s the matter of your heart.”
Ren’s hand squeezed around his. Returning it, Martyn glanced his way and turned to Doc. “I’d make a joke, but I don’t think that it’s the right time. Do I still have a heart?”
“Most of it. You had severe damage to the left atrium and bicuspid valve. Both have been replaced with redstone components and cybernetic. You won’t need to have it replaced…but you also can’t go to hospitals in the Overcity anymore.”
“You have illegal technology in you now.” Ren murmured. Blinking, he turned to look at his boyfriend. Staring at their hands, Ren forced out, “If they discover that you have it, then they might hurt you.”
“I have a contact who you can meet with if you want to have replacements made with Overcity tech. He works with Hot Guy.” Doc explained. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the same…capabilities that our Overcity counterparts do. You’re lucky that the implants and prosthetics you do have will be easy to hide, but—” He turned to look at Ren.
The pair exchanged a sort of silent conversation.
Ren wouldn’t meet Martyn’s gaze when he looked at him. “I think it would be best for Ren to explain it. I’ll have to caution you, though—if you do go with the Overcity’s technology, the surgery for maintenance is rather invasive. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know you were planning on a date.”
He left the clipboard, paused briefly at Ren’s side to touch his shoulder, and then left.
Martyn stared down at the clipboard, then took it. His eyes scanned over the words. His breath caught in his throat, ribs tightening again. There wasn’t a listed price—was Ren’s family paying for this? Had Doc done this for free? What had happened?
He couldn’t breathe. “Ren—” He choked out. Looking up, Ren met his gaze. There were tears in his eyes. Shaking, Martyn put the clipboard down, turning to him. “I—I can’t—” A sob cut him off, ripping through his throat. His chest hurt. It felt like he’d been ripped into multiple times.
He had, Martyn realized. To save him, Doc and whoever else had been on his team had cut him open. His leg had a plate of metal in it. He didn’t have two of his bones anymore. Part of his heart was gone. “Martyn—you’re shaking, dude.” Ren’s voice cracked. Blinking, Martyn glanced around the lab room he was in. He grabbed at his chest again. Pain shot through his ribs. The clipboard clattered to the floor. “Martyn, I—come here—”
Ren pulled him into a hug. Gasping, crying, Martyn grabbed onto the arm around his middle. He couldn’t pull Ren any closer. He didn’t have to. Arms curled around him, Ren’s chin rested on his shoulder, he was pulled tight to Ren’s chest. His boyfriend murmured soothingly in his ear.
Martyn cried.
xxx
When Martyn finally was able to come back to the college he and Ren worked at, it was…a day.
Martyn was quiet. The bandages had finally come off only a few days before. It’d been a month since that disaster of a date. (Ren had been housing Martyn in his own home. They were both pretending the bloody bandages and the breakdown that came with it had never happened.) Their friend, Scar, had offered up one of his old wheelchairs for Martyn’s sake. According to Grian and Jimmy, it hadn’t been working a few days before. Scar had sat down and fixed it up.
The students brightened when they saw Martyn, though some of their faces fell when they saw where he was. He wasn’t in his usual office, the spot above them all in the catwalk. Instead, he was set up at a makeshift desk in the theatre room. The scars were gnarled and wicked-looking, scored deep into his skin. They had a slight pink tinge to them. Currently, he was working on some paperwork he had missed.
They had been asked about Martyn’s injuries, because the university had to ask. When Martyn had rolled onto campus the Friday before, so that he and Ren could talk to them, they hadn’t needed to ask any more questions. Martyn was too tired, anyways. That was half the reason they had needed to use Scar’s old wheelchair.
Getting back to normal life was going to take a long time. Getting Martyn back on his feet was priority, and it was difficult. The brace was one thing. The replacements of his femur and thigh was even harder. And his heart…that was a whole other ballpark. That was comparing Romeo & Juliet to In the Heights. If he had gotten away with just scarring, it would have been…it wouldn’t have been easy. But it would have been easier.
Martyn reached out with a shaking hand to his mug. When he grabbed it, he had to curl his hand around the whole thing. Ren watched him, distracted from rehearsals. Thankfully, one of his students—a theatre major named Alisa, the assistant stage manager—was on top of it.
A hand settled on his arm. Turning, he met her gaze. “Professor Ren.” She glanced at Martyn. “Why don’t you go and sit with Professor Littlewood? You can handle rehearsal from the back of the stage, and you can make sure everyone’s projecting properly, too!”
Holding her gaze, Ren swallowed and then nodded. “Y-yeah. Yes. I—thank you, Alisa.”
With a sad sort of smile, she turned and then began to talk to the other students. Dropping off the stage, Ren hurried to Martyn’s side. Looking up, Martyn met his gaze. Aether, he looked so tired, dark circles still under his eyes. Settling down by him, Ren glanced at the paperwork. “Everything is—hazy.” He held up a hand and shook it, setting his mug down. The smell of white tea billowed around them. With a sigh, Martyn slumped into his side, resting his cheek on Ren’s shoulder. “I’m so tired.”
“Get some sleep; I’ll look at the paperwork. Do I have your permission to sign things?”
“Mmm, just file them…or something.” Martyn murmured, head falling back. Turning, Ren caught him and then wrapped an arm around Martyn’s shoulders. With a low murmur, Martyn leaned into him fully.
Maybe we should have stayed away from work for a little while longer. They had been given permission to have as many sick days as needed. After all, there had been a bird-man attack recently in the Overcity. It wasn’t the one that Ren and Martyn had dealt with. Thankfully, Hot Guy and Cute Guy had taken it out fast enough, but there had been people who had been hurt. It had been easy enough to use it as reasoning for what happened to Martyn. When the university folk told Ren there was no reason to be embarrassed about him being attacked by a monster and needing medical attention.
At least they had unlimited sick days.
Insurance, whoo.
(If only they hadn’t needed to use it.)
xxx
A few days of trying and fighting to get through the work day, and Martyn was at his limit.
Ren hadn’t even kissed him since the incident. Sure, he was shy, but there was shy and then there was treating Martyn like he was broken. And he wasn’t broken. He was just hurt, and Ren was blaming himself, and Martyn wasn’t going to have it. So, as soon as Ren got back from a short visit to the Undercity to pick up Martyn’s new potions, Martyn set his plan in motion.
A man on a mission, Martyn strode up to Ren as soon as the door closed behind him. The redstone in his thigh worked better now. Pale blue eyes flicked up to his, and Ren smiled. When he saw the look on Martyn’s face, he paused. “Am—am I in trouble?”
Grabbing him, Martyn took the bag from him in one hand and then slid his other hand up to tangle his fingers in dark brown hair. Ren sucked in a breath. With a gentle push, Martyn pinned him to the wall and leaned in most of the way. Ren kissed him back easily.
Breaking it off, Martyn looked him in the eyes. “Not in trouble. But I am really, really tired."
"Do you want to take a nap?”
“I’m not tired of that.” Tangling their fingers together, Martyn dragged Ren along with him through the house, to the bedroom. Ren inhaled sharply. “I had surgery on my leg, like, a month ago. I’m not making out with you on the couch. And if you don’t want to, let me know now.”
“I am—not opposed. But are you sure, dude?” Glancing back, Martyn flashed him a smile.
“Like I wouldn’t do more with you if I had the chance.” Ren’s face flushed bright red. Martyn hadn’t even known he could turn that color. Grinning at him, Martyn dropped the bag off on the counter. They reached the bedroom, and Martyn twisted and pulled Ren into a spin, like a sort of dance. Like that waltz they had practiced so long before.
Either Ren was letting himself get pushed around, or Martyn had gotten stronger with those cybernetic and redstone enhancements of Doc’s. Either way, Martyn didn’t mind. He pulled Ren into another kiss, pushing him down onto the mattress. It was a hot day, they really needed to be wearing less clothes. He murmured that into Ren’s lips. Under him, Ren laughed. A hand brushed through his hair, blunt nails scraping against his scalp. A hand ran up Martyn’s side.
This is more like it. He thought. See, Ren? Not broken. Sure, we could use a little communication, but—
Ren flipped him, and Martyn looked up at him with a grin. “You’re wearing too much. Take this off.” He pulled at Ren’s floral button-up. With a laugh, Ren quirked an eyebrow.
“We’re not—”
“Oh, no chance. But you know. Let’s not get heat stroke.” Teasingly, Martyn grinned and added, “I’d hate to have to explain that to Scott when we end up in the hospital.”
Ren’s fingers fumbled with his buttons, and Martyn pulled it off of his shoulders for him. The sleeve tore. Both of them glanced at it. Biting his lip, Martyn fought back a laugh. Ren snorted. “My shirt!”
“I’m so sorry, I just—” Glancing at his arms, Martyn yelped, “I don’t even know—I swear that’s normal—”
“Did Doc give you more enhancements we don’t know about?”
“That’s what I’m wondering!”
Both of them were sitting up now, kisses forgotten temporarily. Every time they so much as glanced the other’s way, it happened again. Cackling, Martyn doubled over. “I’m getting you back! Come here!” Ren’s arms curled around his middle, attacking his neck with kisses even as he tried to teat Martyn’s shirt from his body.
“Don’t you dare tear this, I’ll have you know that I’ve had it since my students did Othello!”
“Why did you make them do Othello?”
“Because some Karen tried banning it! The students picked it!” Wrenching off his shirt, Martyn turned to Ren. Their eyes met, Ren grinned, and then his eyes flicked down. Martyn followed his gaze. “Oh, fuck this.”
He ripped the white tank top he’d worn beneath the button-up off. Then, he wriggled out of his jeans, threw them to the side, and he turned to Ren. His boyfriend was looking away.
“Ren. Look at me.” Grabbing his face, gently, Martyn turned him so they were looking at one another. Taking his hand, Martyn grabbed Ren’s hand. “You see this?”
“It’s my hand.” Ren mumbled, still not looking at him.
“Yeah, it’s your hand.” Glancing down, Martyn placed Ren’s hand against the brace on his right leg. According to Doc, it wasn’t going anywhere for a good three months. Maybe more. Eyes flicking up to Ren’s, he watched. Waited. “You feel that?”
“Mhmm.” The tone was still dejected, though his eyes went to the injury.
Bringing Ren’s hand over, Martyn pressed it to the metal plating on the inside of his thigh. “And what about this?”
Ren’s eyes were watering. Instead of saying anything, he nodded, mouth drawn into a thin line. Sniffing, he still didn’t pull his gaze from Martyn’s leg brace.
Finally, Martyn pulled Ren’s hand to rest on his heart. The exposed redstone machinery was ugly. He knew it was. The scar was jagged, a sunburst, like a firework had exploded on his chest. In the middle of it, because of the necessity of leaving the machinery exposed for maintenance, there was a series of redstone wires and metal bits. An open window to his chest, like a knockoff Tony Stark, exposed some of the inner workings. Muscle, his heart—the only thing he might consider replacing with Doc’s contact’s help. It was visible, it was ugly, and Ren was staring at it like it was a gemstone. Because it was keeping him alive. Because it showed he still had a heartbeat, even missing two parts of his heart.
“Do you feel this? My heartbeat?” Martyn asked.
Again, Ren nodded.
“I am alive because of you. Okay? I am still here because you saved me, Ren. I don’t have a single regret about this turned out, I don’t have a regret about my legs or my heart or my scars.” Hands settling on Ren’s face again, thumbing away the tears running down his cheeks, Martyn continued, “And I don’t think I’ve told you this, but thank you, Ren.”
Ren sobbed, looking at him with watery blue eyes. “Martyn—” Cutting himself off, he squeezed his eyes shut. One of his hands cupped Martyn’s. Tilting his face to the side, he kissed Martyn’s palm. “Thank you. You saved me from the bird-man by pushing me out of the way. And I should have thanked you for that before.”
Smiling at him, Martyn waited until Ren opened his eyes again. Leaning in, he kissed his forehead, pressed Ren’s palm to his heart again. Pale blue eyes snapping open, Ren looked at him, tilting his head to the side. “Feel that? I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Alright?”
Ren stared at him for a moment. Then, his face crumpled, he had this watery smile on, and he lunged. Arms wrapped around Martyn, Ren buried his face in his neck, and all he could do was hold him back. Burying his own face in Ren’s hair, Martyn squeezed his eyes shut.
I’m staying right here.
As long as you want me.