This contains descriptions of self-harm and suicidal thoughts. Please, please do not read if this disturbs you or will trigger you! If you're someone who goes through this, please talk to someone. I found this interesting from a writer's perspective, and do not want to accidentally upset anyone.
Tiz knows that he's dreaming. He knows, because Til is alive and laughing, tugging on his big brother's hand as they climb slowly up the hill that overlooks Norende. "Hold on," Tiz laughs in reply, letting the smaller boy drag him. Their flock surrounds them, and Til stumbles when one of the rams stubbornly refuses to get out of the way.
"Come on, it's almost dinner time!" They've been out all day and Til is hungry despite the snacks their mother packed them. Growing boy, he'd happily reminded his brother over lunch and Tiz had laughed, and picked him up, swinging the boy until he laughed. Not so grown yet!
Tiz pauses against the tree to catch his breath and Til continues past him, running down the hill with the sheep at his side. "Watch you don't fall!" The older boy calls, smiling.
Almost as soon as he's said it, Til trips and slides some distance. They both laugh, and Tiz peels away from the tree to make his way over, make sure that Til hadn't hurt himself despite the thick layers of his clothes. He's barely taken one step when he feels it.
In his sleep, he whimpers.
The earth lurches beneath his feet, a feeling that reverberates through his body. He's never felt the earth move in such a way, but he knows - he knows something is dreadfully wrong. The birds take flight, the sheep scatter, but Tiz is rooted to the spot as a giant pillar of light erupts from the center of Norende and spreads out. It's so bright he barely sees the moment it swallows their home, their mother inside probably preparing dinner, and in the corner of his eye he sees the movement of Til getting up and running, running with the sheep, back toward his brother.
Tiz moves then, sprinting down hill even as cracks appear under his feet, and he reaches for Til's hand just as the smaller boy disappears from sight. He feels nothing even when he catches him. There's nothing left inside of him, his feelings and his thoughts burnt up under the light that had appeared. He had always thought light to be beautiful, but this is anything but. He barely hears Til tell him to let go before they both fall. He could never. What sort of man saved himself and not his baby brother?
"I'm not losing you, ever!" He cries, his eyes burning with the light and the fire that billows out from under his small brother. Til's eyes are wide and fearful, and he clutches his brother's hand. Tiz carefully begins to pull him, trying to be fast before they both slip, though he'd rather they both die with each other than to lose Til.
The earth jumps again and instinctively Tiz scrambles his hand against the rough cliffside for purchase. His grip on Til loosens, and the leather of their gloves slips and… he screams as Til falls into the churning hell of fire and earth below. His eyes never leave Til's face, etching into his memory forever the look when he realizes his brother, his protector, has failed him, and Tiz loses his grip on both the cliff and reality, pitching forward -
Tiz sits up in bed, chest heaving and heart racing, sweat pouring down his skin. For a moment, his eyes burn until he realizes that he's in comfortable darkness, not agonizing light and he buries his face into his knees, biting his lip until he tastes blood as he tries to calm down.
It doesn't work. If anything, the blood makes him feel more queasy and his stomach jumps. Retching and slapping a hand over his mouth, he throws the damp blankets off, nearly falling over into Ringabel's bed as he stumbles into the bathroom, not noticing Ringabel jerk awake at the sudden contact. He just barely makes it to the toilet before he collapses to his knees in front of it and vomits, tears pouring down his face at the painful burning in his throat and nose. The sound is embarrassingly loud, and he cries some more when he realizes he's woken up Ringabel. Unable to stop the pain building up in his stomach, he heaves again, then flinches when the light turns on.
"Tiz?" Ringabel's voice is tired and cautious as the older boy kneels beside him, placing a hand on the other's back, rubbing carefully. Neither of them are strangers to night time terrors, though Ringabel's rarely make him sick so much as terrified of sleep itself.
Tiz shakes his head, shakily grabbing at his nightshirt to try and wipe his face clean of tears and sick, sobbing out an apology. His stomach is empty, but he still spits up some bile as he tries to calm down. Tries being the operative word, because he's overcome with chills and shame, wrapping his arms around himself and curling up.
Ringabel wordlessly fetches a glass of water from the sink and thrusts it down at the other man before he gathers cleaning supplies. Tiz silently sips at the water and watches Ringabel clean up after him, feeling ashamed to let Ringabel baby him like this. Yet, a part of him is grateful. It's nice to be looked after when he's feeling this miserable, and he closes his eyes when Ringabel wipes his face with a cool, wet cloth, the other man's fingers gentle on his chin and in his hair.
"I'm… gonna take a shower," Tiz mumbles, his throat feeling like sandpaper.
Ringabel smirks, an expression Tiz barely catches through his haze. "Yes, you smell awfully bad, you know. Shall I fetch a lovely lady to wash your back?" He laughs when Tiz kicks at him, and finishes straightening up before backing out the door. "I'm going back to sleep." His voice has grown somber. "Come wake me if you need me." There's an unspoken agreement between them not to pry into these moments.
And it's an offer Tiz appreciates, but has no intention of making good on. This is his own pain and it's embarrassing enough that Ringabel knows about it. It's just good that it's not the girls… they don't need to see this. Don't need to see him struggle as he stands up on weak legs, peeling out of his gross clothing and dropping it on the floor for laundry tomorrow. They don't need to see the way his hands shake as he runs his fingers through his hair, fingers tightening angrily against his scalp.
He leans against the cool wall of the shower stall, feeling too exposed in his nakedness. Though a part of him still marvels at the technology, he pays little attention to it as he turns the water on as hot as it will go, hissing as it scalds his skin. The pain is secondary to what he feels in his chest, and he thinks vaguely that his skin might blister if he stays in too long, and he'll need a potion. Still, the heat is very nice, and relaxes him somewhat. He uncurls slightly, scrubbing his hair roughly with a tiny bit of soap before his eyes fall on a razor that was left on the edge of the sink just within view. Either himself or Ringabel hadn't put it away after shaving that morning and…
Swallowing, Tiz reaches for it, his breath shuddering.
He turns it over in his hands.
The pain is a sharper one that cuts through the fog in his head and he watches the blood bead up and drip down his arm, mixing in with the hot water. Another trail of blood follows, then another, and Tiz is left panting by the end of it. It hurts, it truly does, especially as the hot water burns the skin around the open wounds, but the pain is grounding and gives him something to focus on besides the afterimages in the back of his mind of a small body falling into the chasm and - he whimpers as he moves down his arm, crying quietly in shame. As he watches the red swirl around his feet, something inside of him breaks again and he kneels, setting the razor aside for now and trying to focus everything in himself on the pain emanating from his arm. If he can think about that, about something so real and so current, he can forget about his dreams and his memories. At least for a while. Though he feels guilty for wanting to, for wanting to forget, he can't function if he dwells too much on the past.
He has to be Tiz Arrior, the grounding force in their little ragtag group. He has to protect Agnes and keep her safe from harm. He has to guide his friends, and keep them on path, watch they don't bicker too much. He has to care for them, make sure they eat well, and wake up on time, and that they're not too tired. He has to. He has to, because he doesn't know what he'll do if he doesn't. If they were to find out and turn him away, he's afraid he'll just shrivel up and die as he should have months ago.
Pressing his fingers into the reddened skin, he reminds himself that he's supposed to be stronger than this. It's what everyone expects, after all. The water eventually turns tepid, though he doesn't move until it runs clear. There are surely some better outlets for his grief than this, he thinks as he stands on legs that protests the movement, his arm aching. But he doesn't know what they are, and is too afraid to ask. He stands in the bath a while longer, rubbing his arm as pain shoots up again and again until he comes back into himself. It's nearly morning.
Ringabel's form is still and quiet in his bed - too quiet to be actually sleeping. Tiz hesitates, then moves carefully over to the packs that are leaning against the wall. He begins to rummage through one for a Potion… or better make that a Hi-Potion; his arm aches and burns, and his skin feels hot.
"Tiz." Ringabel says.
Tiz jumps a little, but doesn't stop until he's taken out a Hi-Potion and popped the top of it open. "I'm fine, Ringabel." He says, and his voice sounds better, surer than it did earlier. The pain is grounding.
He has to be fine, he thinks, because he doesn't know how to handle things if they aren't. Throwing the potion back, grimacing a little as it hits his empty stomach, he sighs as the pain in his body slowly fades to a dull ache, and watches the cuts on his arms vanish.
Good as new. If only he could say the same for his soul.
"… Try to get some more rest." Ringabel says after a moment. If he noticed the healing, he doesn't say anything.
Nodding wordlessly, Tiz climbs back into his bed. The sheets have dried somewhat, and though they smell kind of bad, like sweat, he settles down into them anyway, exhausted.
Ringabel watches for a moment until Tiz seems at peace, before rolling over to face the other wall, frowning. Walls were thin, and he had heard the other boy crying. It was an unspoken man code to never pry into the weakness of other men, but this seemed beyond weakness and straight into illness.
Not that he could talk, he thinks idly, running a hand against his shoulder. Here and there, neat parallel scars mar the otherwise perfect skin. Whoever he had been in his past, he must have hated himself. Sighing lightly, and knowing he won't be sleeping any time soon, Ringabel pulls his journal out from under his pillow and opens it, hoping for some clue to solve that particular mystery or perhaps to save Tiz.