*this chapter has a flashback that continuously surfaces throughout, i tried to designate it primarily with italics and by centering it-in some cases i used a little "-.-.-.-" when it wasn't as clear. And then the " .-*-.._-**~...~**-_..-*-. " secludes a portion that pertains to Kaiba-the same flashbacks still apply within this part though. Hopefully it's not too confusing! :)
Chapter Five: Chemistry of a Car Crash
As if Kaiba's heavy breathing had blown the alternating atmosphere away, Joey's pupils began to dilate and constrict uncontrollably.
"Me? Wh-wh-what are you doing here?" He breathed unsteadily, choking upon the unfamiliarity of oxygen in place of smoke—and suddenly the inconsistencies actualized, and Seto Kaiba didn't belong.
"Answer," Kaiba's breathed in incriminates, "The question."
"I live here," the blonde struggled under the brunette's masculine hold.
Kaiba's fists squeezed the duelist involuntarily as pale, nimble fingers cut off the circulation in Joey's wrists. "What…did…you…say?"
The other boy whimpered in response, shrinking down defensively out of fear. "I…I live here," his stuttered and his eyes were closed.
Kaiba's entire body shook with infuriation, causing a sea of red to splash against his face, "I live here," the executive stated, as if the privilege was exclusive.
There was a systematic chirping filling the air that hummed electronically around the exhausted boy. As the sounds stirred him uneasily from his slumbering state, several eyelids blinked open in confusion as the room around him materialized in the light.
Joey's first instinct was to panic, feeling his arms jerk sideways, gripping the guardrails. His posture loosed though as the blurry symmetries focused into images. Where am I? He thought, observing the portable box at his bedside, which flashed a series of numbers almost every time he blinked. As he tried to grasp his surroundings, he noticed a myriad of sensors stuck to his chest, and numerous white colored wires that intertwined all the way to the device at his side.
"Hello?" He asked, glancing around unsurely at the room. It was set up almost like an apartment, but the space was entirely unfamiliar to him
There was a sudden movement from behind a pale blue curtain. "Oh, thank goodness," an elderly woman appeared, "I was wondering when you'd wake up!"
Joey smiled out of politeness, but couldn't hide the explicit hostility towards the stranger. "Who are you? Where am I?" he sputtered frantically, pulling the various cords off of his body.
"Easy now," she calmly eased his hands away from the tabs. "My name is Alice," the woman smiled. "I'm your nurse—You're in the hospital," she clarified soothingly.
"But I'm not sick…" he trailed off, still in a daze, shifting backwards against the bed frame.
"You're right," she agreed, replacing the sensors that Joey had successfully removed. "But it seems that you had a rather rough night yesterday. Your friend called you in unconscious around midnight."
"My friend?"
One of the ambulance attendants approached Kaiba.
"There's room in the back if you'd like to ride with your friend…"
Friend? Kaiba glared, both embarrassed and disgusted by the association.
"…we're going to need someone to contact anyways, but we have to leave immediately."
"Mhm," she nodded, checking his charts and vitals, "Didn't stay the whole night, but long enough to talk with the doctors and ensure that everything possible was being done."
Joey's mind, which had already long since begun to wander, had spiraled off even more counterproductively. An overlapping logic continuously tried to process the information, but all he could draw were more blanks.
"Well, you're responding a lot more healthily today," the woman interrupted his chain of thought. "You gave everyone a pretty good scare though, you should thank your friend," she smiled, replacing Joey's file. "You're lucky to have such strong support in your life."
"I know I will, they're truly like an answer to my prayers. I'll call the first chance I get," Joey assured her, thinking back to Sam.
"Good to hear," she smoothed over her uniform, "Now then, I'm all finished here, you just press that button if you need me," she pointed to a red square on the bedside. "The doctor should be in to see you shortly."
"Thanks," Joey held up his hand, feeling both exhausted and curious at the same time. What the hell happened last night? He scrutinized, examining himself thoroughly for clues. The last thing I remember is smoking, eyebrows furrowed fixedly, frustrated with the empty projectile, but after that everything just goes blank. Lids closed painfully.
-.-.-.-
Joey's eyes burst open, pulsating against the shockwaves of Seto's tsunami like affect. This isn't real, he decided frantically and began to struggle aggressively, writhing and squirming between the wall and the sculpted outlines of Kaiba's body pressing into the indents and grooves of his own.
The sign of struggle only willed the executive's superior strength to restrain his pray in a way that was even more suffocating. Arching his shoulders, Kaiba bent his upper half into Joey, and the lightweight material in his business suit shifted to define the chiseled outline of his frame.
"Don't fuck with me, Wheeler," he grinded his teeth, "I'm serious—what the fuck are you doing here?"
The brunette's grip left deep, purple indents as the blood vessels burst into blackening bruises, but Joey had already lost all sense of feeling. This isn't real, he chanted over, and over to himself as the reality and the high transposed indecipherably in his subconscious. The boy's state of consternation created a catastrophe, throwing off the equilibrium that balanced Joey's nervous system
. His mind went a mile a minute, unable to concentrate on any of his thoughts fixedly as they blurred and overlapped extrinsically, and the extraneous fit of emotions introduced a vertiginous paralysis to his petrified limbs. As his heart skyrocketed and plummeted undecidedly, the constant rhythm was thrown into an accelerating whirlwind, instinctively causing Joey's brain to send out signals to the rest of his body.
"Speak mutt," Kaiba commanded, disgustedly absorbing the fearful scent of the blonde's vulnerability. "I said speak, not play dead," Kaiba's breath staggered across the increasing lack of color in Joey's face, as he forcefully thrust the planking teen's shoulders backwards and forwards.
He has to be fucking with me, Kaiba tried to persuade himself convincingly, Wheeler is just trying to get in my head so he can catch me off guard.
The dizziness dissolved Joey's thoughts into a disabling dementia that left his subconscious struggling to extract any verbal concentration of words that hadn't already diffused; one idea discontinued another, opinions irrationally exchanged one extreme for its opposite, and meaningful validation liquefied.
"This isn't real," Joey mumbled unintelligently. "You're not real."
-.-.-.-
Sighing deeply, Joey accepted the inability to conceive what had occurred, and continued to analyze himself in wait of clarification. Both arms extended, and Joey noticed the discoloration that surrounded his I.V. he glanced to its twin, and noticed the marks (markings) were on both arms, painting frequencies of black and violet smudges that welted into his skin like leprosy. I don't remember getting into a fight, he furthered his observation, knowing all too well from past experiences that the bruises were handprints, An impressively large pair of hands too, he turned his forearms in every direction, suddenly taking note of thin cuts that were relative to the bruise patterns. Are those…fingernails? His eyes budged at the tiny slits around his wrists.
-.-.-.-
"Of course I'm real!" Kaiba snapped, confusing Joey's delusionary state with one of disrespect. "Now stop whatever game you're trying to play," his nails dug sharply, just barely breaking the skin, allowing warm, red currents to trickle and pool beneath his own fingertips.
Kaiba didn't even notice the infliction, and neither did Joey; instead, Kaiba's mind calculated control with the callousness of a cognitive correctional facility; there was a hallucinating hysteria accumulating as he assessed the unconventional actions that inflicted an intangible level of dissolution towards his personal authority. Joey's actions had broken one of Kaiba's cardinal rules, and the undesirable presence violated jurisdiction; leaving his superior vulnerable as he crossed over into the unchartered territory of Seto's personal life, invading the borderline like a fugitive.
No one was ever supposed to hear him play, and no one was ever supposed to know where he was. Yet, the idea and the reality had collided with a much more fated force. As the illusionary escape shattered; Kaiba's world shook, sending pulsating shockwaves throughout his core. The blue-eyed boy bit down on his tongue and his pupils narrowed into sharp, shallow spheres.
As the CEO continued to shoot through Joey, the blonde's focus shimmered and then became disjoining as the radius of his auras began bleeding black. The image of Kaiba's face became fuzzy and pixilated pin-needles of color vanished away, one by one until all that was left was an echo.
Panicked and paralyzed, Joey's fingers frantically tightened around whatever surface of Kaiba they could find to grab hold of. Several stocky, yet strong, legs locked and then buckled, causing his knees to shake; sending out soft rippling patterns across Kaiba's pant legs.
I need to leave, I need to get the fuck out of here, he screamed inwardly, but was too terrified to move on his own, and all of his stamina evaporated into a condensation of cold sweat along his forehead. The thought of Kaiba witnessing him only made it worse, and all that escaped the blonde was a soft whimpering noise.
-.-.-.-
"Panic Attack?"
"Indeed," the doctor re-affirmed, "A rather serious one too."
Joey gulped, "How serious?"
"Serious enough for you to loose consciousness."
"I can't remember anything."
"That's pretty normal," he shrugged, "Extreme emotional stress causes trauma that receptors block out mentally," he further explains in layman's terms.
"I don't know-ah-bout mental trauma," Joey shrugged, "But lately I've been feeling like I'm having heart attacks."
"Yes," the man nodded again professionally, "The symptoms of a panic attack, especially when severe enough, mirror those of cardiac arrest—the only difference is that there is no immediate threat or repercussion; the onset of anxiety is actually systematic of your body's natural coping process."
"Coping process? Could'ah fooled me!"
"Well, I don't think averaging nearly two-hundred beats per minute would comfort most people," he chuckled. "The process may be a somewhat healthy response to severe stress levels; however, anxieties that trigger such processes are quite the opposite."
"So, should I be worried?" Joey tried to come off slightly less unknowledgeable than he felt.
"Essentially, no." The man continued to skim the pamphlet on his clipboard, jotting an indistinguishable signature on the appropriate blanks. "There aren't any truly physical or lasting consequences, it is mostly a psychological condition. But if you're experiencing these episodes frequently, it wouldn't hurt to get it checked out, especially if you're falling out of consciousness."
"Well, what is the timeframe for 'frequently'?" He inquired, drawing parallels to his recent flare-ups.
"Let me put it this way," the doctor handed Joey his release forms, "The average person usually experiences a single panic attack during their whole life—and even then its not certain."
Joey's heartbeat fluttered apprehensively, counting at least six attacks in almost two weeks.
Before giving further instructions, the doctor detected the hesitancy sweeping over his patient's face, "I can refer you to someone if you'd like? I have some close friends in the profession, and they are exceptional at what they do."
"No, that's okay," Joey continued skimming the medical jargon in the paperwork nervously to distract himself. "You just need me to sign this right?"
Although reluctant, the man respected Joey's answer. "Yes," he flipped back and forth between the last few pages, "Here and here. Then you're free to leave at your leisure. Sound good?"
"Yeah," Joey reached forward for a pen, clicking it immediately in his palm.
Seto's body was still pressed into Joey's, so hard that he could feel a heartbeat pulsating heat waves through him, but the raise in temperature went unnoticed to the clammy, quaking of the rigid ruby eyed teen.
"I don't feel well," Joey staggered, inadvertently furrowing his fingers more tightly into the wrinkled sections of Seto's sleeves.
"You're not even supposed to be hear," Kaiba hissed, thrusting the other boy's grip away effortlessly, "So I don't care if you're dying Wheeler!" he shook the incapacitated boy violently.
"Alright then," the doctor rubbed his hands together, "A nurse will be in shortly to collect that," he nodded, easing himself out the door. "Try and take it easy for awhile, okay?"
Joey's head nodded, but his eyes were still glued to the fine print, perusing the text with mild interest as he scribbled his name unfamiliarly in English. As his pen hovered over the remaining bullet points, the strokes of ink fell just short of the second line.
The rise in temperature flung the mercury right through the glass ceiling of his internal thermostat. Adjusting to the forceful movements, Joey felt the alarming instability prickling over his skin, and the impact sent the boy's temperament off the charts, shooting the slippery, silver sphere out unpredictably.
.-*-.._-**~...~**-_..-*-.
Kaiba's eyes were red, swollen from the lack of sleep and the inability to achieve it. This can't be happening, he stirred a martini stressfully, propped up against the countertop, still in his pajamas despite the fact he'd never slept.
As the boy beneath his gaze seemed to explode, Kaiba felt the metallic current role down in a petroleum wave, crashing against the surfaces of both his slender appendages. There was a startling thumping against his breast that beat out of rhythm and dangerously off pace. Kaiba's concern, although disdainful, grew stronger as he counted the heartbeats in Joey's pulse that accelerated continuously.
"Seriously…" Joey faltered, resisting the forces of gravity that magnetically pulled him downward. "I…I don't feel right…"
.
Although the strong blend of blackberry and vanilla vodka did little to ease Seto's painful expressions, allowing foreign emotions to penetrate his brain. I wonder if he's okay, he considered thoughtfully, blinking back to Joey's body falling limply into his own. It was an awkward sensation that provoked these emotions, and an unfamiliar concern that occupied Kaiba's thoughts. He'd never seen Joey look so terrified, nor had he himself ever had to support another human being quite so literally.
Reflexively curling his forearms, Kaiba caught onto the other boy whose body had gone limp and lifeless without warning. "Wheeler?" he asked frustrated, trying to stabilize and shake the blonde at the same time. "Come on, what the hell is the matter?"
Joey's body however, draped against Kaiba's motionlessly, leaving the rival in a rather conflicting position. Shifting his own weight to one hip, Kaiba steadied Joey into his shoulder, wrapping one arm under Joey's and around the boy's abdomen.
"Ugh," several fists slammed into the granite countertops, "Why the am I even still thinking about it!" he growled, sending the fragile glass to the side with a powerful thrust. The expensive liquor splashed thick pools of maroon into the carpet as shattered glass shards were sent in every direction.
"Snap out of it," he demanded, using his free hand once again to move Joey's shoulder in attempts to wake him. The blonde's lips made faint, yet unproductive movements, allowing an incoherent muffle to escape before his neck dropped listlessly, and his forehead collided with Kaiba's chest.
.-*-.._-**~...~**-_..-*-.
The utensil in Joey's hand dropped down immediately, and the impact caused splattered black marks to form beneath the ballpoint. They might as well just have put me out of my misery, he croaked, turning out his insides as he stared disbelievingly at the signature next to the admittance information.
The brunette sighed angrily; This is just what I need. He balanced
Joey more carefully, digging through jacket pockets for his phone. A stray dog, he exhaled, pressing three numbers swiftly into play.
Neon strobes of royal blue and cherry flashed in alternating patterns, casting colorful shadows onto Kaiba's face as he watched the paramedics secure Joey onto the stretcher.
Joey sighed, lying back down against the bed, something tells me we're not in Kansas anymore. He closed his eyelids, unable to erase the permanence of Seto Kaiba's name curving eloquently across the solid line.
-.-.-.-
*ah sorry this chapter is sort of choppy and sorta short, but it was kind of intentional to fit the disoriented thoughts, or lack there of, that Joey experiences. I'm working on the next chapter as we speak, so as a preview: Chapter Six: Conflict of Interest