Chapter Text
With the rising sun, Brassius rose too in order to get started on a new project. He walked outside to take in a bit of sunlight and decide which idea would be the one that won out. It came to him like an intuitive thought, a deep gut feeling that a specific project carried more weight and needed to exist. He knew what needed to be created.
Brassius made some clay and worked it while mentally working out how to approach this particular idea. Maybe he should be writing down measurements so he doesn’t throw a fit over something being disproportionate.
“AH!” he yelped and dropped the hunk of clay on the ground. His hand felt like knives dug into his bones. It seized up for a few minutes, so he ditched work to run water over it for a few minutes.
It hurt more than usual, but the pain didn’t worry him as much as the shaking and inability to close his hand for a few fleeting moments. He used his less coordinated hand to grab his phone and call Hassel.
“Hola, Brassie! How are we doing today? I’m just on my way to work right now, maybe we’ll have lunch?”
“Hass, listen. I need your help today. I wouldn’t normally do this to you, but it’s important.” He closed the water and grabbed a warmed-up towel to wrap his arm in. Heat wasn’t doing it today, maybe cold? Was it cold then heat?
Hassel made so much noise on the other end, he swore he probably fell down a flight of stairs. “Oh no, don’t worry about me. I need to use my sick days anyway; they don’t carry over. Don’t do anything until I get there, okay?”
He agreed and hung up, returning to the mess he made and ignored. The plan changed now that he had to use Hassel. How much should he tell him? Actually, his own lack of anger about this spoke volumes. He accepted it already, hadn’t he?
Brassius waited by the window and tossed the towel only when he saw Hassel approaching his door. He stole Hassel’s jacket and hung it before turning and pulling him down to greet him with a kiss. Hassel instinctively took his hands and smiled at him. “What are you working on that’s so big, you need my help?”
Brassius tilted his head at him and shook his head. “It’s actually not the size of the project that’s the problem. You see, there’s something else.”
He pulled Hassel to the room he set up for the project, clay still languishing on the ground where he left it. It took a few long drawn-out breaths before he figured out how to tell him. “Hass, I need help finishing my final project.”
Hassel sharply turned to him. “Brassie, what’s going on? What haven’t you told me?”
His frown at him looked so ugly and possessive yet still very Hassel to get worked up so easily.
“Nothing—”
“Don’t say nothing, why are you stopping all of a sudden. That’s not like you, not to tell me something substantial after making a firm decision like this.”
“Hassel, I just thought I should move on to the next step in my life.”
And somehow he managed to move him on from that. Hassel helped clean up the floor, albeit suspiciously, and he gathered more material for the project.
“What is the muse for this one?” Hassel asked in a more even tone despite trying to read into everything now.
Brassius put whatever he held down so he could gesture as he spoke, “the Sprigatito evolution line, starting with Sprigatito and then the others, a message about how in evolution one can only go forward and the former body passes away in a sense. A Floragato cannot become a Sprigatito, but it can change, once more, into a Meowscarada. Does the Meowscarada remember its former lives? Do these Pokémon take a second as they transform and realize that they cannot go back to what they once were? The piece explores that in statue form.”
He looked around for his sketchbook. “It’s in the blue sketchbook, somewhere around here if you need to know the enormity of the project or the particulars.”
Hassel shook his head. “Let’s get started and then consult your notes once we need to.”
Hassel hovered, unsure of his role in helping him here. He hadn’t assigned him anything in particular, and honestly he refused to right now because he knew what was coming. Hassel found the sketchbook at some point and paged through it. “After you retire, are you going to keep drawing?”
“I don’t know yet,” Brassius admitted. Using his hands for more than an hour on anything made them start hurting, no matter which medium he worked on. Elaborate drawings might be out of the question, maybe simple ones too.
Hassel let the silence fill the room instead of pressing any further.
Brassius made it far enough to where he was working with his tools before it happened again. A feeling of electricity shot through his fingertips down through his forearm—both hands this time.
He sucked in air through his teeth and was discreet enough not to yell out this time. Brassius passed Hassel the tool and went into the other room to remedy the situation. He assumed Hassel would understand and take over the project, but no, he heard footsteps after him and a knowing silence followed.
Brassius took out ice from the freezer and wrapped it around a towel so he could clasp his hands together and use cold to ease the pain. Hassel took him in a moment and said nothing. Instead of asking or commenting, he grabbed a bowl and filled it using both the cold and hot water. He set it on the table and gently pushed Brassius towards it, stealing the cold chunk from him.
He took Brassius’s hands and submerged them in the water, using his thumbs to rub circles into his palms. Then squeezing his fingers one by one, up and down, especially on the knuckles. Brassius eventually started leaning on him, watching him do it. It helped a little, not more than anything else, but even just Hassel knowing felt so much better.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Brassie?” Hassel whispered.
“I thought it might go away. I tried everything to make it go away, even doctors. It’s just supposed to get worse from here. They told me I could work until I couldn’t take it anymore, and then I should stop. I planned to call you for the last day, but I thought I had time. I thought I had at least 5 more years.”
Hassel lifted his hands out of the water and turned them to look at them. “It looks like nothing’s wrong.”
“But it hurts anyway.” He squeezed Hassel’s larger, softer hands.
Hassel still kept his voice low as if something might jump out at him over his volume, “you must have been so upset.”
He turned to Hassel and cupped his face. “Let’s finish this project and then be upset about it. I want to get it done today. It needs to be done today.”
With the tension between them cut, they found a rhythm that suited them much better. Hassel occasionally dragged him out of the atelier for air while they tended to his hands, they ate lunch, they did everything while working. The ongoing project sometimes served as a backdrop to Brassius just trying to pause time and memorize what it was like to use his hands to make something. Remember this, don’t forget this feeling.
Hassel even forced him to nap for about an hour at one point while he continued working. When he woke up, he kept the blanket the other had put on him around his shoulders and went to check on Hassel.
Hassel worked tirelessly, but clearly, it wouldn’t be done on time. He never finished projects like this in a day anyway. It took too much work.
Hassel noticed him, hair in a cute ponytail and eyes sparkling with confidence. “I think we can make it before tomorrow! I’ve made a lot of progress. Come here.”
Brassius moved closer and watched him work. “I can’t do it anymore today.” His eyes stung from the words.
“Help me then, take a longer break.”
Brassius shook his head “Can you finish it for me? Even if it takes a few more days?”
“Brassius…”
“I can’t, Hassel, it’s not even a bad day today. The day after a project like this, sometimes I can’t open my hands fully. Please.”
Hassel put down his tools and opened his arms to him. Brassius took that invitation and let himself be hugged.
“What will you do now?”
“I don’t actually know. It was too much to think that far ahead. I still need some time to grieve this death first.” Brassius laid his head on Hassel’s chest instead of looking at him. He wiped away tears using the blanket Hassel found somewhere, not entirely sure who it belonged to.
“Did you enjoy this last day at least?”
“I can’t think of a better way to spend my days than with you by my side.”