When the punch lands, he doesn't expect it. Maybe it's an odd thing for him to be shocked by. After all, Maria is infamous for for terrorizing the new paramedics, but there's always been a sense of sacredness between them. An unspoken promise that she would never hit him, maybe the wall two inches from his face after a particularly heated argument, but never Erhard.
"Don't fucking touch me. Don't you fucking dare try to take care of me when you can't take care of yourself. I am so fucking sick of you doting over everyone else to avoid your own shit. You pretend that you don't matter and it needs to stop." For once in their twelve years of being with each other, both platonically and romantically, Maria does not express her anger with shouting. Her voice is slow and she stares at the ground. Erhard can only stare, mortified from the distance she put between them.
It was then that he does what he promised himself he would never do eight years ago, he runs. He slams the door behind him, not out of anger as much as speed. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and shaking, he becomes acutely aware of the fact that his nose is bleeding. He stumbles to the nightstand. He's still lightheaded from the sheer panic that just shot through him from when he first heard the news. Instead of thinking about the news, he opts to pluck a few tissues from a box, holding them to his nose.
He feels as if he is going to vomit again, even though there is nothing left in his stomach to vomit.
It's his fault, he could have saved Gabriel. Maybe if he was a little bit faster, he could have removed the rest of the tumors before Gabriel's body went under too much stress. But it didn't happen that way. Gabriel, a man who had helped others by looking at the wreckage his life littered with mundane disappointment. A man who is laying in a hospital bed with only a limited amount of time left because Erhard is disgustingly good at making miracles happen then losing everything he loves the most over rudimentary issues.
Erhard realizes that the usual soundtrack of punches to the wall and crashing of flying objects is not present in the living room. He disposes of the blood-soaked lump of tissues and confirms that the bleeding has stopped. At a loss for what to do, Erhard gingerly slips under the comforter. Everything in his body tells him to go out and make sure she is okay, because extended periods of silence have far worse implications than shouting ever will in regards to Maria. Yet his mind told him that it would be best to wait for her to come to bed. Even with his difficulty reading people, he could tell that that punch was out of desperation more than anger. He settles with the idea of waiting.
When the front door slams shut a sense of dread. Maria had never left during one of their arguments before.
She preferred to clear the air. His brain fills with the distinct possibility that she might not come back. After all, she is so free-spirited, maybe this was the final straw. He wasn't an easy person to be around. His flashbacks to the Cumberland College Incident, while not as frequent as they used to be, were still debilitating. He was critical and self-doubting, and with another death on his hands these traits would become worse. The constant need of reassurance that he was still a worthy human being (all of which are boldfaced lies because he is the scum of the earth) would drive Maria to the edge of her tolerance, of course she would want to leave him, who wouldn't?
Erhard tries to accept this train of thought, tries to move on and go to sleep, but his brain keeps replaying his anxieties on a loop, adding to the narrative with less reason behind it each time.
Maria is going to leave him.
Maria is going to leave him and everyone else will too because he killed Gabriel on accident.
Maria is going to leave him and everyone else will because he killed Gabriel and they know his worth only extends to how far his ability to save others goes.
Maria is going to leave him and everyone else will because he killed Gabriel and they know that he is useless for saving lives because he was only meant to bring suffering on everyone.
It keeps going, and it all becomes clear to him that he is going to die and that is good because everyone would be better off if he just did. He's shaking and he doesn't know when he started crying but he wants to stop but he can't because he is so weak and dependent on others to gauge his worthiness of the thousands of bodily processes that keep him alive at any given moment.
He does in fact get sick and runs to the bathroom, pure bile forces it's way up his throat, and it burns but he deserves it like he deserves everything. His mother was right, he is unclean and this pain is good for the soul. It will cleanse him and soon all this disgusting filth will be purged from his being. He's not actually sure what his mother meant when she said filth.
He lays in bed, exhausted, but unable to sleep because of all the adrenaline that is still coursing through his veins. Then he hears the door open and he stills. Why is she coming back? Does she need to get her things? Why wouldn't she just wait for him to go to work than do it? She already has the keys.
The bedroom door eases open and he feels the mattress sink beneath Maria's weight. "You're still awake?"
He roll himself to face her. There is a part of his heart that sinks when he notes that her eyes are bloodshot. "Yes."
"So you laid in this bed and stared at the wall for two hours straight. Did you at least eat something while I was gone?"
"I'm not hungry."
"I meant it earlier when I said that you need to stop this. You could get seriously hurt this way and it's stressing me the fuck out and then I get angry and then-" A look of horror flashes across her face. "Shit. Are you okay? I hit you pretty damn hard."
"There was just a bit of bleeding bu-"
"Shit, that drew blood? Oh god Erhard, I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, you didn't intend to."
"No! I hurt you. I'm not supposed to ever hurt you on purpose. I made you bleed, dammit, there's nothing okay about that." Relief washes through his body when he hears her yell.
"I honestly don't feel that bad about you hitting me. After all, I am the reason he's dying and you are distressed." He manages to keep his voice level despite the fact that is body has began to shake again.
Erhard quickly gets pulled into Maria's arms and she cards her fingers through his hair. "Don't blame yourself. It wasn't like his chances of survival were that high. You were perfect. Tomoe watched the operation herself, I saw the footage. It's that moron 's fault for waiting so long to tell us that something was wrong, if anyone's. And even if it was your fault, it doesn't mean I ever have the right to hit you and it doesn't mean you shouldn't take care of yourself. So stop punishing yourself for this already."
When the tears begin to fall again, they aren't preceded by any sound. Both of them just become aware of a wetness on Erhard's face. "I've lost so many people that I care about, I don't want to lose another one. I-I thought you weren't going to return once you left."
She lays him down and spoons him, hugging his body close to her own. "Shit, I'm sorry, I just needed to get a drink and clear my head for a bit, I didn't mean to scare you. I'd never leave you for good, especially when you need me."
"You can't promise that." A small crack of his voice is the only sign he gives that the tears are falling harder.
"Your right, I can't promise shit, but it's not going to happen because I damn well say so." That statement brings a smile to his face. It was so Maria, that he couldn't help but smile at it. Even if they didn't have any logical backing, her words filled him with a sense of relief.
"I think it would be best if we both get some sleep, we are visiting him tomorrow. I love you Maria."
"I love you too." She pecks his cheek after that statement.
