Whumptober 31 - Trauma
I have bad time management skills, this was intended to go up on Christmas Eve but I got busy. Anyways, here’s some angsty Christmas comfort for you all.
(I think this is my last post following the whumptoper2021 prompts, except for another sequel to one of the posts. Its not even 2021 anymore I just wanna do the prompts lmfao)
CW: Not much, mainly just discussing a traumatic event, mentioned branding, mentioned torture, talk of near death experience
“You’re still up?” Caretaker’s voice carries from the hall. Whumpee’s eyes flick away from the living room window to see him standing there rubbing his eyes groggily.
Caretaker usually has to get a glass of water in the middle of the night.
“Yeah,” Whumpee responds quietly. He turns his head to look back out the window at the falling snow; flakes that float and fall and stick to the glass, almost like a beautiful dance.
It’s been a year, a long year of nightmares and pain and memories that don’t go away; especially now, on Christmas Eve.
Caretaker takes a deep breath, noting the somber look on Whumpee’s face when he asks, “is it..?”
Caretaker doesn’t even have to finish his sentence, and Whumpee doesn’t even have to answer his question. They both understand what the other is thinking.
The whole team has been helping Whumpee recover, but it’s been Caretaker who stays up late with him when he can’t sleep, Caretaker who stays by his side when he doesn’t feel like he can manage to get out of bed, Caretaker who seems to understand him on a level that no other person ever could.
“The snow is pretty” Whumpee mumbles. Caretaker steps, slightly stumbling through still lingering sleepiness toward where the man sits on the bay window in the living room.
He’s wearing a sweater, a blanket tightly wrapped around his shoulders. When Caretaker gets close to him he notices the dark circles under Whumpee’s eyes, his face illuminated by the reflecting snow falling outside. Caretaker follows his gaze to see the Christmas decorations on the house across from theirs. Every building around them, though not many, had been decorated plentifully with lights and standees and blowups, though the Christmas cheer in their base had been a bit more mellow so far this year. Even still, they’d decorated, put presents under their tree, planned to make a hearty dinner and plenty of Christmas treats to enjoy.
They’d hoped it would help distract Whumpee from everything else.
“Yeah, It is nice looking” Caretaker responded.
“But even just looking at it now… I can feel the cold,” Whumpee says, voice no louder than a whisper. He tucks his legs up to his chest, making room for Caretaker to sit next to him at the window. “I can feel it in my lungs– like they’re still freezing,” He whimpers.
Caretaker gives him a knowing look and tries to hide the surprise on his face. Although he doesn’t hide his emotions, Whumpee usually doesn’t delve into the specifics of how he really feels.
“Why are you looking out there then, bear?” Caretaker asks, trying not to sound condescending. He notices a quick upward twitch of the lip at the pet name, but just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone.
Whumpee looks at him, really looks at him– tired, nearly hollow looking eyes staring back, and Caretaker can nearly feel the pain radiating out of them in waves.
“Because I… I feel so stupid. I want to look at the snow. It shouldn’t make me feel like this, but— im afraid of Christmas music for fucks sake!” Whumpee starts, voice growing more exasperated as he talks, ending up somewhere near a yell. He quiets again though, not wanting to wake Leader and Teammate.
In the light from the window, Caretaker notices a tear slip, but Whumpee quickly brings his hands up to swipe it away.
“Oh god, Whumpee,” Caretaker mumbles, reaching over to pull him into a semi-awkward hug, “You were kidnapped and tortured- you’re not fucking stupid.”
At first, for a short moment, Whumpee’s arms stay by his side, then he wraps them around Caretaker too. It doesn’t take long for him to bury his face into his neck and hold him tight.
Caretaker smells like peppermint. Whumpee knows Caretaker doesn’t even like peppermint, but he said it was festive for the holidays. At least that doesn’t set him off, too- well, until he thought about it too hard.
Caretaker can feel tears soak into the shoulder of his white t-shirt, it only makes him readjust his grip and hold tighter.
“Somewhere deep down–” Whumpee’s muffled voice starts, he tilts his head slightly away from Caretakers neck so he can be heard clearly again, “Somewhere deep down… I’m scared that tonight– that tonight they’ll come back for me.”
Caretaker can feel his heart shatter in two at the statement. He pulls the man in his arms closer in protectiveness, flashes of him bloody and freezing to death entering his mind. He looks so small, bundled in Caretakers arms, just like when he lay in that alleyway, and then the hospital bed.
They say being in the cold like that- getting hypothermia- may have saved his life; that it slowed the blood flow, and that otherwise, he may have bled out. Caretaker doesn’t know what he’d have done if Whumpee had died that night– things would never be the same.
Caretaker opens his mouth to speak, but before he manages a word, Whumpee continues again.
“And I’m scared that when they do, they’re gonna throw me out there again, and this time, they’ll succeed.” Whumpee whispers. His voice sounds sort of hollow now, wavering like the fear is all he knows in the moment.
Caretaker remembers the pictures too; Pictures of Whumpee covered in welts and bruises and blood. He’ll never forget the pain in his eyes, or the tears, or the brand.
“Not now, not ever.” He says back, now his voice is breaking too.
Whumpee nods into his neck, a yawn taking over. He feels drained already, not that he ever really doesn’t anymore.
“Are you tired?” Caretaker asks.
“A little bit,” Whumpee responds, eyes flicking to the window again, more importantly, the driveway.
He takes a small, deep breath of relief, letting himself relax only slightly. “But I don’t know if I can go to sleep tonight,” He mumbles.
Just looking out there and imagining that someone might have been there was enough to make his bones itch and his scars burn. He nearly burst into tears again thinking about the name sitting on his chest.
No matter what, always looming.
“How about I go make us some hot chocolate, then when I come back, we can go sit on the couch and you can talk and cry as much or as little as you want, okay?” Caretaker suggests, as if he could sense that Whumpee’s mind was wandering again.
Whumpee pulls back so they can be face to face again, and Caretaker gives him a small smile, “And when you feel more tired, you can come sleep in my room… We won’t let them get you again.”
Whumpee returns his smile, letting him stand to go toward the kitchen. Caretaker takes two steps before turning back around.
“I promise. You’re not alone; we’re all going to help you through this, together,” He says, a look of sincerity so strong on his face that it makes Whumpee’s heart swell.
When Caretaker leaves into the other room, tears fall from Whumpee’s eyes, but not because of the overwhelming fear this time, instead because of the friends he knows will always have his back.
I don’t know if the bleeding out thing is true, I remember seeing it in a show somewhere but when I tried to research I got mixed answers. I liked the way it paced the scene though so I kept it in.
