Alex and Zee: Reading sessions (or torture sessions, Alex fears) pt 1 of 2
Cw: BBU background, aftermath of torture/conditioning, headaches, Alex and Zee friendship, brief nausea mention
Zee tore his black framed glasses off his face and tossed them to the floor, as if they were the thing causing him pain and not his head. Alex heard a hint of tears in his voice, husky and thick. “Fuck,” he added softly.
“You can do it,” Alex coaxed, feeling rotten but knowing Zee wanted to be pushed. “Just three more sentences in this paragraph.”
“Wait,” Zee said, a hint of pleading creeping into his voice that made Alex sorry he’d pushed it. He pressed his fingers into his right eye socket, “Please, hold on.”
Alex tilted the book away immediately. “Okay. Take a break, Zee. Take a break.”
He puffed out his cheeks on an exhale, his shoulders shaking slightly. Alex wanted to pull him into his arms, but he knew Zee wanted to get through this without a complete breakdown. He wanted to be tough, to be worthy of praise at the end. But there was only so much pain they could push through before Zee couldn’t take it anymore and Alex couldn’t stand to watch it.
He wrapped his elbow around Zee’s neck like they were in a huddle. “Take a break,” he repeated gently. Zee pressed his forehead against his, sighing shakily. They stayed there for a long moment, until Zee pulled away and sniffed, swiping the backs of his hands under his eyes.
Alex picked the glasses off the floor and began cleaning the lenses on his shirt.
Zee watched, his face softening to guilt. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have done that .”
Alex shrugged, handed them back. “They’re yours.”
He sighed. They’d been over this. “What’s mine is yours, man. I don’t think anything of it.”
He knew how hard these sessions were on Zee, how sometimes the headaches were dull and sometimes it was like an ice pick behind each eye, making him nauseated and dizzy. He couldn’t imagine the sort of memories it brought back for him, what sort of clinical, sanitized torture he’d been subjected to before he came to them.
Zee put his glasses back on, pushing them up the bridge of his nose with his index finger.
“You look good in them,” Alex told him. “If that helps.”
Zee gave him a smirk, which was better than the near-tears he’d been in when he tore them off his face a minute ago. “Thanks.”
He reached out and touched the back of Zee’s hand. Unlike Cam, Zee was warm and open to every affectionate gesture Alex extended him. He flipped his hand around so his palm touched Alex’s, and their fingers interlocked.
“Do you want to stop?” Alex asked gently. The first time they’d done this Zee had gotten dizzy and had to lie down, and Alex had wondered if they should even try it again, but Zee had begged him and it felt worse to keep him from it, somehow.
“No,” Zee said stubbornly.
Alex squeezed his hand. “You sure? It’ll be here tomorrow, Zee. It’s not going anywhere.”
“No. I wanna keep going.”
“Okay.” Alex tilted the book back towards him. He felt like a torturer returning with a new instrument. “Give me three lines without looking away and I’ll let you go lay down.”
Let you. He winced at his own word choice.
Zee nodded like he was psyching himself up for the task. “Okay,” he agreed, looking at the ceiling before forcing himself to look back down at the words.
Alex mentally vowed to take him out later, to give him extra strength Advil and go to the restaurant down the street they liked, with the good pho and the booths by the window where Zee blended seamlessly with the crowds of college students and young professionals and first date couples, where he and Alex people-watched and talked like they were normal friends.
He wouldn’t make him read off the menu unless he wanted to.
