Chapter 5: Pain and Denial
(Two days later)
Layne's eyes shot open. He sat up - and immediately regretted it. His entire body felt like it was on fire, and not in the usual way. Everything... hurt. Blinking hard, his vision fuzzy at first, he tried to get his bearings. "W-what- where-"
He looked around. The last thing he remembered was Summerside. The aliens. The Naganadel. Mega Evolving. Losing control. But now… he was in a cot. In the Roseville Rescuer Guild's Infirmary. He saw the nurse on duty, a Blissey named Naomi. And sitting beside his bed - Chino. Oh fuck. Chino. "C-Chino, w-what-" he winced, gripping his chest. Just moving hurt.
Chino leaned forward instinctively as Layne stirred. Finally. Relief washed over him; he'd been camped at Layne's bedside for two days, waiting. "Hey," he rasped quietly, scooting closer, a hand resting lightly near Layne's arm. "Take it easy. You're back at the guild". His crimson eyes softened, scanning Layne's battered frame. "You've been out for - " a pause - "two days".
Behind him, Naomi shuffled calmly, adjusting supplies. "Don't try to move too much," she murmured, stepping closer. Her round face held practiced concern as she checked a bandage. "Your body's still recovering from a lot of strain... especially after what Chino described". She glanced briefly at Chino before focusing back on Layne.
Chino exhaled sharply, claws fidgeting. He waited until Naomi finished her assessment. "...You scared the hell outta me," he admitted suddenly, his voice quiet but raw with honesty.
Layne collapsed back onto the bed, the effort of sitting up too much. Memories flooded back: Summerside, the aliens, the Naganadel, Mega Evolving, the berserker rage. He killed it. And then… he looked at Chino. The black eye was still visible. From where... where he... had struck him. "Chino I-" Tears welled up, his throat tightening with overwhelming disgust and guilt.
The sight hurt Chino more than the punch itself. His claws flexed. Words caught in his throat. "Don't do that," he rasped quietly. "Don't - beat yourself up. Not now". His own exhale was shaky. The black eye throbbed faintly - a dull ache compared to the memory. "You weren't yourself," he murmured after a long pause, the truth bitter but real. Naomi glanced over but remained silent. He sighed again. "We're alive because of you".
Alive. He'd stopped the monster by killing it. Taken its life. It was a monster, but... did it deserve that? The memories flashed: the blood, the sickening squelch, the brain matter. Layne's eyes widened through tears, his stomach flipping violently. But with nothing in it after two days unconscious, he just dry-heaved, the motion sending fresh waves of pain through his body. He was a mess.
The harsh sound tore through the quiet infirmary. "Layne - " Chino's rasp held only concern. Naomi stepped closer. "You've got nothing inside you to throw up," she murmured gently. Chino reached out tentatively, resting a clawed hand lightly on Layne's trembling shoulder. "You did what you had to," he said quietly but firmly.
"I hurt you-" Layne sobbed, looking over at Chino, his attempt at anger sounding utterly pathetic. "I used that fucking Mega Stone again... I lost control... I... I killed..." Another dry heave wracked his frame.
Chino's claws tightened slightly on Layne's shoulder, anchoring him. "You didn't hurt me," he rasped, knowing it was a lie, but not the point. "You stopped that thing before it could… before it could hurt anyone else," he pressed, scarred eye focused entirely on Layne. "That's what matters". The steadiness in his voice was a thin veneer. He shifted closer. "Layne," his claws flexed then eased on the trembling Blaziken. "You're not alone in this".
Layne's head swam. Body hurting, mind racing - it was all too much. He looked like he wanted to say something, tears rolling down his cheek, but couldn't get it out before his head hit the pillow again, unconscious once more.
Naomi sighed softly. "He needs more rest. It's amazing he even managed to get all that out, all things considered".
The room fell silent again. Chino exhaled sharply, watching Layne's slackened features. He should have said… something. But what? Stop feeling guilty? Easy words, impossible meaning. "He'll recover," Naomi said gently, perhaps reassuring them both. Chino nodded faintly and stood slowly, the ache in his chest grounding him. Time for fresh air. They'd talk when Layne woke again - if Layne forgave himself.
(A few hours pass...)
As Layne remained unconscious, visitors came and went - fellow guildmates checking in, as they had since helpful Summerside citizens brought him back via cart yesterday. The Guildmaster, Yoon the Oranguru, visited again, briefly mentioning to Chino that teams had been sent to investigate the alien sightings, but information was scarce. Eventually, night fell. Naomi gave Chino a knowing nod as she retired, reminding him to fetch her if anything changed. Chino dozed off in his chair beside the bed.
He hadn't slept well the past two nights. His eyes flickered open later to the sound of shifting fabric and a low grunt. Layne was stirring, forcing himself to sit up again despite the obvious agony.
"Hey - easy," Chino rasped sharply, rising instinctively. He lightly pressed Layne's arm, guiding him back down. "You're gonna tear yourself apart if you keep pushing like this". He watched Layne's labored breaths, the exhaustion etched onto his frame digging into Chino's own chest.
"Gonna tear myself apart... anyways..." Layne grunted, wincing as he brushed Chino's claws away and sat up, ending up hunched over and wheezing slightly. "Fucking..." he growled, shaking his head as if to banish the bad thoughts.
The wheeze rattled through the room. "You're pushing too hard," Chino hissed, claws hesitating after being brushed away. He gripped the chair back instead. "You think this fixes anything?" his rasp cut through the dimness, not harsh, but not gentle. "You don't get to just - what? Beat yourself down until it all disappears?". Claws clicked against the wood as he leaned forward again, scarred eye narrowing. "Look at yourself. You're hunched over like you're carrying the whole damn continent on your back". He paused. "We stopped that thing," he said quieter now. "It should've been me - back there. Taking those hits". The words caught awkwardly. "But it wasn't". Another pause. "You can't keep doing this to yourself".
"Chino..." Layne rolled onto his side, staring him down. "Shut..." he reached forward lamely, finally putting a claw to Chino's lips. "Shut the fuck up..." he wheezed, letting out a short, pained laugh that turned into a whine. "Arceus, if I have to list-listen to you play therapist for... one more goddamn minute, I'm gonna expire right here," he chuckled again. "Ow". Some of his trademark snark was returning.
Chino froze at the light touch, narrowing his eyes. "Expire? Don't tempt me," his lips barely moved under the claw. A real chuckle escaped him, warm and tight in his chest. This ass. Layne's usual attitude was finally creeping back. "You must be feelin' better if you've got room to talk shit already". He carefully swatted the arm away and leaned back, arms crossed. His jaw twinged, but he didn't care. "Fine. No therapy session". A deliberate pause, then a sidelong glance, a glimmer of humor in his scarred eye. "But if you expire on me? I'm bringing you back just so I can kill you myself".
"Kill me? Psh. You can't so much as - ow - lift your own ass without me there to lift it for ya..." Layne collapsed onto his side, curled up and groaning, still facing Chino. A brief silence, then a soft sigh. "Chino..." his look softened. "I'm sorry".
The apology landed unexpectedly, rippling deep. Chino's claws flexed before he spoke. "Layne..." his rasp softened. "You don't owe me that". He sighed, leaning forward so their eyes met fully. "Not after everything you did back there". The silence sat heavy with meaning. "You..." he fumbled for words that weren't cheesy. "You came back". Flat, but true. The one thing that mattered. He smirked faintly at Layne's curled form. "Besides," he murmured teasingly, "you're way too stubborn to let anything keep you down for long".
"Stubborn's one way of putting it," Layne chuckled dryly, trying not to move his chest. Another sigh. "But still... coulda fuckin killed you too back there". He closed his eyes, trying not to recall the Naganadel's shattering carapace. Fuck, so much baggage. "Never... fucking killed anything before..." he opened his eyes slightly, averting his gaze.
The infirmary hummed faintly. Chino leaned forward slightly. "That thing wasn't..." his rasp broke the silence. "It wasn't like us". The memory clawed at him - blood, chaos, rage - but he pushed it down. "It wasn't innocent. Not like those villagers it was slaughtering". Chino's claws flexed again. "You stopped it, Layne". He leaned back, scanning him. "And yeah... it'll haunt you. Stuff like that doesn't just go away". A softer sigh. "But it's better than waking up knowing you didn't do enough".
"That's... just it," Layne locked gazes with Chino again. "I could very well have... not woke up". He rolled onto his back, staring at the blank ceiling. Fucking hell. A mess. "Almost burned up. Two Mega Evolutions in less than two days. Fucking stupid".
The silence sat heavy. "You're right," Chino said quietly, claws tapping the chair. Tired, not angry. "It was stupid". A long pause. "But you're here". The rasp softened, closer to relief. He leaned forward, elbows on knees. "You burned bright enough to stop that thing before it took anyone else down. So don't act like it wasn't worth anything just 'cause you're hurting now". His eyes fixed on Layne, watchful, concerned.
"Burned bright - oh gee look who's a fucking poet now-" Layne laughed playfully, wincing again. "Ow. Keep glazing me like that and I'm gonna get an even bigger head than I already got. My body and mind needs fixing, not my ego..." he snorted, another painful laugh. Typical Layne - using humor as a shield.
Chino looked at the ceiling again. Easier than meeting Layne's eyes when he piled on jokes. "Yeah, well…" claws tapped the chair. "Maybe blowing smoke up your ass'll keep you from overthinking yourself into another mess. Can't exactly stop you from being stubborn otherwise". The rasp softened, warmth threading through. He leaned forward again, eyes firm. "You're allowed to feel like shit," he said quietly. "But don't waste all this beating yourself up for what happened". Claws flexed, relaxed. A scoff. "And your ego's already big enough; trust me - I'd know".
"Not the only thing of mine that's big... eheheh... ow," Layne snickered, attempting a dumb eyebrow waggle that also hurt. He rolled his head back to the ceiling. Comfortable silence fell, but his head filled with intrusive thoughts - not of the killing or the rage, but those weird feelings from Azure Glade. Ah, the worst curse of all - feelings.
The eyebrow waggle almost sent Chino over the edge. Dumbass. It earned a loud snort. "Maybe I should've let you expire earlier," he mumbled, smirking as he leaned back. The quiet returned, almost normal. But Layne wasn't joking anymore, just staring at the ceiling, thinking again. Great. "Don't tell me you're having another existential crisis," Chino sighed, tilting his chair back. "You're starting to make me look well-adjusted".
Ugh. Was it that obvious? Layne groaned softly, lifting an arm - ow - over his face. "Naw dude, I'm just peachy fuckin' keen over here. You know, dealing with being a killer. Almost dying. The 'use," he snorted, another short, painful laugh.
The sarcasm hit like cold water. Chino's smirk faltered. "Yeah, peachy," he rasped dryly, claws tapping slowly. Tap. Tap. He tilted his chair forward again, eyes narrowing. "But seriously..." his gaze locked onto Layne's arm-covered face. "You're not gonna fix anything if you keep hiding under that damn wing of yours". The unspoken hung between them. "Talk to me".
Ugh. Layne dropped his arm, turning his head to look at Chino. "You know, you don't gotta dote over me at my bedside the whole damn time," he retorted, trying to change the subject. "Ain't your own bed in the dorms callin you or something?" he grunted, looking back at the ceiling. Deflect. Deflect. Never address the weird feelings. Nope. Never.
The chair creaked. "Oh, trust me," Chino chuckled low. "That lumpy excuse for a mattress? Real tempting". Tap tap tap. He leaned forward slightly. "But nah," quieter, calmer. "Kinda hard to sleep when someone's busy beating himself up from across the infirmary". The heavy silence returned, the unspoken thing like smoke curling between them. He exhaled sharply. "Don't think you're getting me to budge that easy," he said finally, a faint, real smirk cutting through the quiet. "Deal with it".
"Maybe I ought to punch your other eye. Might make you go away," Layne grunted, no real venom there. Arceusdammit. "Might as well climb into bed with me since you're so intent on being Mr. Caretaker apparently. Looking to be the big spoon this time, big boy?" he teased, referring to Azure Glade.
Chino leaned back again, arms crossed. "You really want me that close, don't you?" His smirk curled, sharp but not unkind, a shield against the warmth creeping into his chest. "You keep bringing up that spooning thing," he rasped with mock suspicion. "Starting to think you're projecting". Tap... tap. "But hey," he shrugged theatrically, shifting forward. "If you're trying to invite me over..." His scarred eye glinted.
"Oh please, you wish," Layne scoffed, turning over with a pained ow to face away from Chino. "Your gay ass prolly just looking for an excuse to get all close and personal with me... perfect time to feel me up buddy, I can't fight back," he snarked with a dry laugh, though the weird feelings in his belly betrayed him.
Chino barked out a sharp, amused laugh. "Wow. Really going for the classics there. 'Gay guy wants me.' Super original material," he drawled, sarcasm dripping, though his smirk remained. The familiar banter felt loaded now. He leaned forward again, lazily considering Layne's back. "You sure that's what you're worried about? Not like you've been bringing up that night over and over or anything". A pause. "But hey... if that's really your way of saying you wanna cuddle next time you're half-dead..." A nonchalant shrug. "You just gotta ask".
Damn him. Chino always knew how to get under his skin. This weird thing didn't help. Turning to face him again - OW - Layne pointed accusingly. "Boy if you don't stop fucken, ow, tapping your goddamn claws on your chair nervously from whatever... weird feelings you got for me, I'm gonna come over there and break them," he growled, no heat in it. Pure. Unadulterated. Projection.
The accusing finger vibrated. Tap. Tap. Chino drummed his claws louder, slower, mocking. "Ohhh - scared now," smirk tugging deeper. "You caught me. All my weird feelings out in the open. Guess I'll just - stop existing". An exaggerated gasp. He leaned closer, tilting his muzzle smugly. "But hey…" Claws froze. "If it's really bugging you that much…" Pause. "You're free to try breaking 'em". Another tap immediately after. Challenge issued.
Oh, it was fucking ON. Gritting his beak, Layne sat up, shakily throwing his legs over the side of the bed. Fucking. OW. Body shivering, hurting everywhere, but he wouldn't back down. "You ff-fuckin... asked for it-". Before Chino could react, Layne put his feet on the floor. A brief moment. Then, predictably, his legs buckled. "Fuck-!" He collapsed forward - right on top of Chino in the chair.
Chino barely reacted as Layne gave way. Thud. The chair rocked. "Really?" Claws reached out, gripping Layne's shoulders. Deadweight. Muscle and stupidity. Too close. Warmth pressed down like a furnace. His eye darted up to Layne's face, inches away. "I warned you," he rasped, not moving. "This is what happens when you commit to dumbassery".
Layne let out the most pathetic whine of his life. Oh fuck, everything HURT. Hundreds of pounds of dead fire chicken pinned his partner. "F-fuck... you..." he choked out, limply grabbing at Chino's paw, trying to grip his claws to break them.
The chair creaked dangerously. A sharp exhale. "Seriously?" Talons brushed his wrist. He didn't pull away. Crimson eyes narrowed at the pathetic form slumped over him. "You're unbelievable," came the rasped reply - half amusement, half exasperation. Fingers adjusted to keep them steady. "Next time you wanna prove a point? Don't". A faint smirk tugged at his mouth.
Layne's attempts were futile. He collapsed entirely, heaving on top of Chino with a grunt. "Fucker," he mumbled, face inadvertently burying into Chino's neck. Intimately close. He breathed in through sharp pain. That warm, homely masculine scent. Chino's scent. Arceusdammit. His body shivered involuntarily.
The chair groaned. A low growl rumbled in Chino's throat, exasperated. Talons brushed his neck. "You're heavy," he rasped. His breath - warm. Too warm, too close. Too much. Claws hovered at Layne's waist before settling awkwardly for balance. Eyes darted sideways. Textbook dignity. Except for the prickling fur where Layne buried himself like a hatchling. "Layne..." quieter, draped with threadbare patience hiding fidgety panic. "...You trying to kill me or what?"
"Yes," Layne grunted, settling his weight. "Finishin the fuckin - ow - job," he snorted, rolling his head on Chino's shoulder to look him dead in the eye. Those... stupid handsome red eyes. Stop. His beak accidentally brushed Chino's cheek. Those... kissable looking cheeks. STOP.
The chair moaned. Claws flexed faintly against Layne's side. The warmth was impossible to ignore. "Okay," Chino rasped dryly, frayed edges in his snark. "So assassination-by-snuggling is your strategy now?". But those blue eyes locked onto his. Closer than ever without a joke to break the tension. That sharp inhale... Beak brushed fur - accidentally? His heart skipped. Knock it off! His ear tips burned. "Layne..." softer than intended, a warning wrapped in futile deflection. He didn't move away.
They lay there awkwardly. "I uh..." Layne cleared his throat, trying not to look too hard into Chino's eyes. "I can't get up," he finally said. Just a meat blanket now.
Claws dug into armrests. "You've got a real talent for picking battles you can't win," Chino rasped, concern glimmering beneath sarcasm. A long exhale. Grip adjusting to stabilize them. Warmth radiated between feathers and fur. "Alright," he murmured sharply, shifting slightly. "Hold still before we break this damn chair". A grunt, claws bracing tighter, holding Layne steady like a stubborn burden.
With immense effort, using Chino as a weasel-shaped crutch, they managed to get Layne up and towards the bed. But limbs tangled. He took Chino down with him. Layne blinked. On his back. Chino... on top of him. Like the bath. "Ow," was all Layne said. The weight hurt. But that seemed secondary right now.
The chair groaned as they moved. Then - pomf. Mattress thud. Warmth blazed through Chino's fur, chest pressed against Layne's broader frame. Feathers radiated heat. Claws braced near Layne's shoulders, nerves screaming. "...Shit..." low, only for Layne. Eyes darted anywhere but Layne's face, stupidly close. Mind blanked. Memory teased: Azure Glade, the bath, too similar. Layne's ow broke the haze. Chino could swear Layne's face reddened further. Oh no.
The warmth was unbearable. Arceus help me. Scarred eye shot upward. Claws tightened reflexively. "Uh…" rasp uneven, panicked, snark gone. Way to make it weird.
"Chino, you're..." Layne murmured, looking between them. Well, that's one way to discuss the weird feelings!
Mattress shifted. Low growl escaped Chino - not anger. Too close. Eyes darted sideways. "You think this is funny?" low rasp, heart racing. Claws flexed against shoulders, involuntary jolt. He didn't move. Fur prickled. Arceus, that damn Blaziken. So warm. Why was his body reacting like a love-struck Skitty? "Don't act like you're not enjoying this," he murmured, a desperate bid for control, smirk strained. Ear tips burned. Get a grip. What was this? "Just - don't make it weirder than it already is," he finally managed, pushing up slightly.
"Dude you're on top of me, this is ALREADY as weird as it gets," Layne laughed dryly through a wince. "L-look," he closed his eyes, grunting. "We can... finally talk this shit out... just... lie beside me or something. Think I'm gonna pass out from the pain at this rate," he groaned.
Wincing, Chino shifted carefully to his side, untangling them. Pomf. Mattress groaned. "You've got a point," he rasped, sliding onto his back beside Layne. Muscles wound tight. "This… yeah. We should talk". Words hovered. Which ones? How much? "You first". Claws flexed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.
Layne rested his arms on his chest like lying in a coffin, desperately ignoring his body's reactions and staring at the ceiling. Anywhere but Chino or his own traitorous anatomy. "Well... uh... ow," he started awkwardly. "Well clearly I'm not straight anymore," he blurted finally with a short, pained laugh.
Silence, save for creaking springs. Not straight anymore? Chino's claws flexed, thoughts tangling. "...Well," rasp sharper than intended. "Not exactly an average wake-up call". Staring at the ceiling felt stupid. "Feels like we've been... dodging this for days". A brief sideways glance.
"Yeah. Dodging harder than we dodged those dipshit alien's attacks," another short, pained laugh. Stop joking. "I mean... I was always... curious... about guys..." quieter now, cheeks blushing faintly. "But... never really was interested in one until... I met..." He swallowed hard, turning his head to look at Chino, sheer honesty in his blue eyes searching Chino's ruby red ones.
Chino blinked, breathing shallow. Layne's tentative, soft voice hung between them. That honest gaze held his. Silence stretched. "Until you met me," Chino rasped, voice breaking lower, "what?". Claws tightened on the blanket. Don't let this get away. But part of him wanted to pull back from the raw vulnerability. His heart dared to hope.
"Yeah," Layne swallowed again. Not easy. "I guess I just let my stupid machismo get in the way of expressing my true self". Looked away briefly. "Where I grew up, out in the Incendio Isles... the culture there was uh... not... very conducive to homosexuality, let's put it that way," scratching his head. "To be clear, I never really bought into the whole traditional thinking. But until I moved out to this continent and started working on Rescue Teams, I didn't really start to openly think about it".
Chino scratched his scarf idly. Weight in Layne's words. "Curious, huh?" rasp soft, like the word was fragile. "Incendio Isles," he echoed, mouth twitching. "Sounds like a real barrel of laughs". Habitual sarcasm slipped out. He caught Layne's eye again - honest, raw, terrifying. Chino's stomach twisted. "You..." he paused, breaking gaze. "You're saying it's different here, then? Being on this team - around me?". He rubbed his neck nonchalantly, voice steady. "What made you start 'thinking,' Layne? 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't sharing a tiny bed or getting dunked on by aliens". Claws flexed subtly, tension bleeding through.
"You made me start thinking more about it, idiot," Layne snorted, elbowing him. Ow. Hurt him more. "Gosh do I need to spell it out...?". Rolled his head, looking Chino in the eyes. "I like you, okay? You're funny. You're smart. You've had my back since day 1 of me joining the Roseville Rescuer's Guild. You're..." paused, struggling. "...cute".
Chino blinked. Oh. Brain fizzled. He just... said it? No jokes? Flat out? "Cute?" rasp softer than intended, disbelief replacing sarcasm. Ears burned. Layne's honest blue eyes didn't waver. Damn him. "I didn't realize you were into emotionally scarred Weaviles," Chino mumbled, smirking faintly - a weak deflection. "...What now?".
Layne rolled his eyes. "Shit, do I gotta do everything?". He suddenly pressed his lips to Chino's in a deep kiss. Held it. Pulled away. "Got any more dumb questions?" he chuckled softly.
Chino froze completely, eyes wide. Hadn't expected - this. Heart slammed against ribs, frantic. Nerves ignited. As Layne pulled back, Chino stared, paralyzed by the boldness. Mouth opened, closed, opened again - no snark came. Fur burned hot, face flushing, ears pinned with embarrassment, confusion... pleasure? Swallowed hard, gaze softening, almost shy. "No," he finally rasped, claws trembling faintly. "I think you answered all of 'em".