Chrysalism
Warnings: slash (not descriptive), age gap, phobia/PTSD
Rated: T
Disclaimer: Alex Rider, his world, and all associated characters belong to Anthony Horowitz.
Summary: The room lit up again, thunder following seconds later. Alex slapped his hands over his mouth to keep from crying out. A strangled scream was muffled and cut off. The storm was getting closer. (Suffering from a new found astraphobia, Alex just wished he wasn't weathering this storm alone.)
His heart was hammering loudly in his chest, pounding as if he had just collapsed at the end of a three-minute mile. The thudding was loud, but in no way drowned out the ear-splitting crashes of the thunder outside. The air was charged with electricity, sharp and biting, prickling against his skin, putting Alex even further on edge.
Alex was curled up on the couch, back tucked against the armrest, knees drawn to his chest. He tried to pool his warmth, keep his body heat close. Outside looked so cold. He was facing the only window in the room, staring at it with the same engrossed intensity that someone watching a horror movie would show. Like he was just waiting for the jump scare.
A woolen, holey blanket was drawn around his trembling shoulders and was clenched tight in his fists. It scratched against his knuckles, but trapped the warmth in well enough. Alex still felt chilled to the bone, though. Outside, lightning flashed, bathing the room in electric white light. Alex counted silently, the voice in his head trembling: one, two, three, four- a horrible crashing noise, like a tray of fine china smashing into tile floor, flooded his ears. Alex bit his lip and ducked his head, tucking his forehead between his knees.
His knuckles were white as they held the hem of the blanket in a death grip. His nails pinched through the fabric and into his palms, leaving crescent marks in his clammy skin. With distinct effort, Alex uncurled his sore hands. His muscles cramped. Fingers twitched in pain.
He flexed his hands, working pins and needles from them. The tips of his fingers flushed pink as blood flow returned.
The room lit up again, thunder following seconds later. Alex slapped his hands over his mouth to keep from crying out. A strangled scream was muffled and cut off. The storm was getting closer.
He bit down on his thumb nail, teeth chattering as if from cold. He felt cold, despite the blanket and the heated house. His heart felt like it was on ice - like he was inhaling frost.
Alex tensed his shoulders, waiting for the next attack on his senses.
He hated thunderstorms - which was rather inconvenient, considering he lived in London. It was a new fear, this astraphobia of his. Thunderstorms used to be just another natural phenomenon to him, not something that crippled his senses and left him a shivering wreck on his living room couch.
Now, he kept a sharp eye on the weather reports, permanently terrified of being caught outside in a storm.
Now, everytime lightning flashed, it was like a consuming fire. A flash grenade going off. An explosion.
Now, everytime thunder rumbled, it was like the backfire of a gun. Ears ringing with the sound of a bomb detonating. A whole building collapsing.
Thunderstorms meant plagues of flashbacks and night terrors. If the weather report predicted a storm, Alex boarded himself up in his house, hid all the guns and knives in case he had a panic attack. He would huddle up on the couch, in the living room with only one window - it helped if he could keep an eye on the storm, without feeling to exposed. Like when you see a spider in your room, it's frightening to see, but even more so when you can't.
It wasn't always this bad - when he wasn't alone, it was almost bearable. When someone was there, to hold his hand and distract him, then he could sleep (albeit fitfully) and breath easier. But when he was alone… Alex shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. Lightning flashed and left wavering spots on his eyelids. Thunder crashes almost immediately, making him flinch.
He banged his elbow against the armrest, a lance of pain running up his arm. He whimpered slightly. Drawing his limbs inwards, he tucked himself into the tightest ball he could. The blanket started slipping off his body, and he grabbed at it desperately, holding it against his shaking chest.
The storm must be right above him by now. Grey clouds were charging up, static building in the atmosphere right above his head.
His breathing was even heavier now, panting. Hot breath filed the space between his knees and the rumpled banket. His face began to get flushed.
"Holy fuck!" Alex flinched, voice catching, and jumped sky-high.
A loud, rattling noise had sounded right next to his ear. His breath was sucked from his lungs, like he had been tossed from a rocketship and into deep space. He coughed and clutched his chest with one hand, checking if his heart was still beating.
The rattling noise resounded again - quieter now that he had lept to the other side of the couch. He looked over his shoulder at the spot he had previously occupied, now bathed in light. Not lightning, just a fake, artificial light.
Alex breathed a shaky sigh of relief, gave a breathy laugh at his own jumpiness.
His phone - on vibrate - had rattled against the wooden side table next to the couch. The screen had lit up blindingly. He crawled back and reached out, picking the phone up and silencing the incessant clatter.
"Hello?" He answered - or at least he tried. His voice trembled with repressed emotion. He tried again, getting marginally better results.
"Alex?" A deep, calming voice came through the receiver. "Are you alright?"
He drew a shuddering breath. "Yeah, fine. Where are you?"
"I just landed - but Alex, it's storming pretty badly, are you sure you're okay?" Such concern laced his voice - Alex wasn't sure whether to feel touched or embarrassed.
He must not have known about the storm, not until he landed. Alex wished he wouldn't worry but - he acknowledged that he was currently cowering, wrapped in a cocoon on the couch - he probably had plenty of cause to worry about Alex.
Maybe Alex should try to ease his worries a bit. "I'm fine, really. Are you able to get home, in the storm, or..." he trailed off, not wanting to voice his fears too much.
"I can try, but-"
Alex cut him off, "Be safe, please. Don't drive in the storm if you're going to get stuck. I'll be fine if you need to stay the night at the airport hotel."
There wasn't an answer for a moment. Alex could practically feel him thinking over the options. Alex didn't want him driving in a storm like this - images danced across his mind of a familiar car being blasted off the road by lightning, or getting stuck in thick mud or washed away in a flooding river. He would rather endure a night alone with the thunder than having cops at his front door again, delivering the news of a lost love one.
Finally, the voice replied, "I love you."
Alex smiled - then winced and bit his cheek as lightning deluged through the window, coinciding simultaneously with bone-jarring thunder. He tried to say I love you back, but his voice was lodged in his throat. Then the line went dead, cut off by the raging storm.
Alex was curled on his side, cheek pressed to the sofa cushion. The fabric was rough and scratchy. He had pulled the blanket up over his head and was slowly devouring the available oxygen. He could still see bright bolts illuminating the living room, could still hear the crashes like cymbals.
He had bitten the nails on one of his hands until blood ran down his fingertips. Had gnawed the insides of his cheeks raw.
He didn't know how long he had been huddled in his blanket-cave, maybe minutes, maybe hours. All he knew was that the storm seemed to be frozen right above his home. The old house creaked and protested against the heavy gales. To Alex, it was like sitting in the front row of a rock and roll concert. He did his best to plug his ears.
There was another creak, louder than the rest of them. Maybe the house was caving in? Alex held his breath, worried that even the slightest movement would shatter the support beams and bring the house tumbling down on top of him.
Another drawn out noise, but this time Alex recognized it. The loose floorboard just inside the front door.
Alex erupted upwards, blanket flying like a cape in the wind. Eyes wide, he stared through the dark, heart hammering in his throat.
Lightning flashed - Alex swallowed a scream when the thunder followed. The storm cast the room in an iridescent glow, Alex's eyes snapped to the figure standing by the doorway.
"Jesus Christ," Alex sucked in a huge breath, heart stuttering.
"Not quite," The figure joked, shaking water from fair locks.
"Yassen," He still hadn't caught his breath.
Yassen smiled, "There you go." He nodded, splattering raindrops on the floor.
Yassen kicked off sodden boots and walked in socks to where Alex knelt on the couch. He reached a hand out, brushing Alex's cheek, leaving a wet mark under his eye. Alex almost sobbed in relief, already feeling a million times better and braver with Yassen here.
"I told you not to drive in the rain, idiot," Alex couldn't be bothered putting any real fire in his words - he was too relieved at having Yassen with him.
"It's okay," he answered, moving to sit next to Alex on the couch, "I'm an excellent driver."
"You're insane."
"And in love with you."
Alex blushed, wiping his eyes of tears that he was determined to keep from falling. "I love you, too."
Yassen opened his arms and pulled Alex into a tight embrace. Alex respond just as fiercely, feeling all the stress of the night wash away with the rain, right down the London street gutter.
Water from Yassen's damp shirt seeped into his own clothes, but Alex had a simple solution. Quick, practiced hands (that no longer trembled in fear) undid the buttons of Yassens shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. He pulled his own tee over his head and dropped it on the floor. Yassen wrapped the blanket around the two of them, shifting so they could lie down on the couch.
Alex tangled their legs together, arms wrapped around Yassen's waist, sharing his body heat. Alex lay on top, Yassen on his back, flat against the couch cushions. A light hand was running through Alex's hair.
Lightning flashed, thunder crashed, Alex only tensed slightly - too immersed in Yassen to pay the storm much heed. Yassen rubbed calming hands up and down Alex's bare back. His tension eased, and the next time the storm made itself known, Alex didn't even notice.
There was light pressure on the top of his head - a kiss. Alex returned it blindly, kissing whatever skin was available to him without having to move. Yassen laughed and Alex could feel the jolt of his chest against his cheek. He pressed the side of his head over the place Yassen's heart would be.
The steady thud of Yassen's heartbeat and the regular rise and fall of his chest combined with the storm tumult. It was oddly soothing, the combination of something so familiar and something so wildly untamable.
He cracked his eye slightly, looking out the window. Rain pounded against the glass, the noise suddenly feeling rhythmic and tranquil.
It was comforting, being warm and safe in the middle of such chaos and cold. Liked being in the eye of the storm.
Chrysalism: the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm