Part 2 of They are Always
Maya decides it is best for her to watch from afar.
Her two best friends are so wrapped up in each other that she wonders if they even realize they are still occupying a crowded hospital room. Riley tangles Farkle's fingers with her own and presses the back of his hand into her chest, forehead-to-forehead as she quietly hushes him.
He's two days out of being shot and he doesn't like how the pain medication messes with his head so he has started refusing it.
Well, Maya doesn't like how the pain messes with his everything so she's about two seconds from forcing the pills down his scrawny throat.
But instead, she watches from afar and lets Farkle groan and whimper through the flare until he settles back in. He clutches Riley's hands the whole time, his other fist tight on his blanket with white knuckles. Maya knows the grips gotta hurt but her best friend doesn't so much as flinch, just whispers comforting, sweet nothings for only the boy to hear until it passes.
When it does, Farkle's whole body relaxes and he's a little out of breath. His hand goes slack in Riley's but she keeps their fingers intertwined, pressing a kiss to his forehead before she slides back into the seat at his bedside. Sleepily, she uses one hand to rub her eyes.
Maya steps forward and glances over at Jennifer Minkus, who is busy typing on her phone, before turning back to the brunette.
"How you doing, Riles?"
Riley's big, brown eyes fly open and she sits up straight, "Me? Oh, I'm fine."
Maya knows she's not. It's been at least twenty hours since Riley had gotten any sleep and even that had just been drifting in and out. There is no way she was running on anything but fumes. She quirks an eyebrow at her friend.
Running a thumb gently over Farkle's knuckles, Riley looks back up at her boyfriend. He's already drifted back off, pain and exhaustion leaving him in a constant state of almost-asleep.
"He needs me."
Maya's heart aches in her chest at Riley's words. She knows it's true. Farkle needs Riley and as long as he does, Riley will be there.
Even if it takes everything she's got.
So, Maya sighs in resignation and decides it is best for her to watch from afar.
"Mom, can you just-"
"I cannot believe this! Do these doctor's know who we are?! We have the money for you to stay here until your dying day and they want to send you home?!"
"Mom! Really-"
"No, Farkle! I will take care of this!"
Riley presses against the wall as Jennifer Bassett Minkus whirls past her and out of the hospital room. She tries to bite back a smile at the woman's antics but it's no good the moment her brown eyes meet Farkle's rolling blue.
Coming more into the room, the girl crosses her arms over her chest, "So, she's not happy that you got the go-ahead to go home."
"Uh, no," Farkle answers with a tired smile even though Riley had made more of a statement than a question. He's sitting on the edge of his bed, dressed in normal clothes for the first time in days and even though he's still sitting rigidly from pain and discomfort, the sight alone makes it easier for Riley to breathe.
He's okay. He's okay. He's okay.
It's all she can think most of the time.
As if reading her mind, Farkle takes one look at her and jerks his head in a gesture for her to come closer, "Come here, babe."
Babe.
It's one of the small pieces of this new thing that they are and she holds it close to her heart. She's never liked that particular pet name and yet she melts when he says it.
Bashfully, Riley moves to stand inches from Farkle, his height making them level even with him seated. Peeking up at him through long eyelashes, she doesn't risk leaning into him like she would have before. She can't stand the idea of causing him pain.
That doesn't stop Farkle from wrapping her up and pulling her closer anyways. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, in her sunflower and strawberry hair. His breath warms her skin as he mumbles, "What's a matter?"
Reaching up with some lingering reluctance, Riley combs her fingers through the hair at the back of Farkle's neck. It's been days since he's been able to style it, so it's soft like down feathers. God, she loves his hair.
"I'm not sure I'm so happy you're going home either," Lightly grasping the fist full of hair, Riley pulls Farkle's head back so that their noses are inches apart. "Convince me, Dr. Turtleneck."
It's supposed to be witty and joking and at ease but Farkle can read her as easily as he can read the periodic table so he knows better. He hears the fear and desperation underneath, the panic. It still astounds him that Riley Matthews panics over him.
Gripping her hips, Farkle pulls even her closer and ignores the unforgiving pain that shoots from his wrapped bullet wound.
"Riley, my vital signs have been ideal and consistent for an extended period of time. My wound is clean and wrapped, showing no unusual signs of redness or tenderness. I haven't had any fevers or indications of infection and I've been off of opioids for over forty-eight hours without relapse. In summary, I am okay."
Worrying at her lower lip, Riley nods but doesn't meet those electric blue eyes. Seconds pass and then soft, warm, perfect lips are pressing against her own and her brain temporarily short circuits.
All she feels is Farkle's hands against the small of her back, the erratic pounding of her own heartbeat in her chest, and the flush settling over her cheeks. All she cares about is the scent of fresh laundry and the gasp Farkle steals from her when his tongue skims over her lips. All she knows is God, she loves his hair and he's okay.
He goes home and he has nightmares where things go a little differently.
Farkle knows by the fourth night he shoots up in his bed, sweating and gasping, that he probably needs to address the issue but part of him is embarrassed.
He manages to be Maya and Riley's hero one time and he can't handle the emotional fallout afterward. For about five minutes, he considers just powering through but then he realizes that means he'll have to keep having that nightmare and decides it's just not worth it.
He can't watch the man in the alley point his gun at Riley again.
He can't hear the bullet fly from the chamber again.
He can't see Riley fall again.
Riley helps the nightmares when she's there.
They don't come at all if her body is curled into his side, the warm Star Wars-themed comforter cocooning them together. She keeps making comments about how he's her hero and how he's saved her life three times now but Farkle knows the truth.
Riley's his hero and she saves him every day.
When the Matthews insist that Riley has to go home for a night or two, Maya stays with him. It's a fundamental part of Maya that she is different from Riley and her differences don't make Farkle love her less. They make him love her differently. And she comforts him differently.
She plays cold, uses humor and mockery to keep herself distant, but there's a fire in her eyes and soul that make it abundantly clear how much she cares.
They lay side-by-side and look up at his planetarium, without speaking. He's on his back and she's on her stomach with her head tipped back, blonde hair spilling down her shoulders to the sketchbook open before her.
When he 'star gazes' with Riley, it is hours of whispering the names of constellations and pointing out each planet and listing every moon. With Maya, it is nothing but silence as he contempts and she sketches and sketches, every now and then glancing over at him like he might just fade away if left unacknowledged for too long. He always just meets her gaze, telling her without words that he won't.
The nightmare still comes when Maya is with him, but he can shake them once he sees her alive and asleep next to him.
It's the first night that he has to go without Riley or Maya and his mother has to rattle him awake so as to stop his screaming that he finally admits he needs help. Someone outside of the two girls might be able to help him through this, though he's not confident.
Sitting on the crinkly paper of the exam table, Farkle doesn't quite get it.
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
The doctor slaps a nice, neat name on it and that makes his parents believe everything is solved…But it's not. The guy scribbles his hard earned MD on a prescription for anti-anxiety medication and sends the family and the boy on their way. Farkle can admit that he's a little on edge but it pisses him off that he still doesn't feel like he has any real answers.
Physically, he understands the problem, he knows what's wrong with him.
On a chemical level, the issue is an excess of stress hormones like cortisol in his bloodstream. This causes him to feel stressed, depressed, lackluster. They create the nightmares and the new ticks he keeps developing, seemingly daily, and even make him lose his appetite at every meal.
The pills are meant to stimulate the gamma-aminobutyric acid in his brain and release the gratification hormone, dopamine, into his system. It will relax him, supposedly calm him. A little dopamine can go a long way, his doctor actually jokes. Farkle thinks it's pretty tactless.
But Farkle's whole life has been one anxious moment to the next. He knows how to deal with anxiety and this, this all-consuming panic and random bouts of blinding fear; it's different.
Something is wrong with him.
And no one seems to hear him when he tries to tell them. It makes him feel even crazier than he's already starting to think he might be and that makes him want to just stop trying to tell them anything.
Riley listens, at least, but she doesn't understand.
A piece of him, an essential part of his being, something fundamental is missing or broken or something. He doesn't know, he isn't sure, but he can't shake the weight and emptiness of it. Pills aren't going to help that.
Besides, the medication makes his head foggy, so it goes in the trash.
A few nights later, he is caught.
"I found them in the trash, Stuart! The trash!" Farkle can hear his mother scream which is impressive considering how far across the top floor she is. "He threw his medication away!"
A hand tightens on his bicep and he looks down at Riley's dark eyes in the soft glow of the planetarium. They are nestled together under his covers, warm and secure. He actually feels safe with her right there, a feeling he's beginning to forget more and more every day.
"Tell me you didn't." She says, her voice quiet and wavering a little.
He doesn't want to let her down but he can't lie… They don't lie to each other.
Riley sighs and sits up, hovering over him with the ends of her long hair tickling his cheeks. Tears pool in her eyes and he feels like complete shit because not only did he let her down but now he'd made her cry and goddamn it, Minkus…
"PTSD is serious, Farkle. I understand that the pills don't work for you, but promise me you'll find something that does. Don't just let this go. Promise."
Farkle stays silent and his gaze flickers back up to Cassiopeia over Riley's head and then to Orion. Orion, the Hunter, who in his myth had been killed by a single, small scorpion after conquering all of the beasts of the land. He'd underestimated the severity of his opponent and it had cost him.
Reaching up, Farkle takes Riley's face in his hands and kisses her, hard. After a long moment, the two pulled apart, both breathless, and his heart stutters because she's smiling at him again and it's been a while since she's done that.
"I promise."
It takes time.
However, Farkle has learned from his experiences with Riley Matthews that all great things do.
He has a panic attack the first day he returns to school and it's Maya who finally manages to pull him back. Lucas joking smacks his shoulder about a month later and receives a hard right hook to the jaw out of instinct and fear but Farkle is forgiven instantly. Now, Smackle asks before she gives him a hug, the same way he once asked her. And Zay actually gets him to laugh.
It takes time.
But slowly, he learns to walk the streets of New York alone again. Reluctantly, he gets to the point where he can go outside without feeling like someone is lurking around every corner. And eventually, eventually, he starts sleeping through the night again on his own.
It takes time. But Riley is there.
She always is.
PTSD, depression, and anxiety are no joke guys. I wrote Farkle's trauma from a different point of view as I do not have PTSD but I do have several anxiety issues and disorders and struggle on and off with depression. If you are suffering, remember you aren't alone. If you ever need someone to talk to, PM me or contact the suicide prevention hotline at: 1-800-273-8255.