Chapter Text
Brassius sat up with a start, the kind that makes your heart race and forces your whole body awake. Hassel felt the movement and coaxed him closer, grabbing him when he moved within range. Brassius mentally praised his sweetheart of a husband until he realized Hassel pinned him in place with a hug to keep him from running away. He stirred, Hassel held on tighter.
He tried to accept his fate and sleep the way Hassel held him down, which normally he could do…
But while his body settled, his mind continued racing. Tired and half asleep, his eyes stayed wide open while his mind ran through scenarios of horror. Ways they could die right now. Ways that he could be dying internally. Old evils that could come back. Why run from the inevitable?
As if he heard his husband’s thoughts, Hassel put his hand over Brassius’s eyes. “Stop thinking so much, my dear. Go back to sleep.”
Hassel, understandably tired, held onto him like a dragon clutching its treasure. Brassius thought this an overreaction until he spontaneously decided he needed to get out. He struggled free of Hassel and darted for the kitchen. He heard Hassel grumble something but left too quickly to hear him.
In the kitchen, Brassius attempted to make tea. Nothing calmed a restless spirit like a good cup of camomile. He picked everything out and set the kettle to boil itself while he looked for something to write down an idea. He found a small sketch pad and scribbled something down before wandering into the bedroom for a specific pencil.
Hassel growled at his reemergence. “Brassius, come to bed.”
“Wait, let me just—”
The kettle started screaming from the kitchen. Brassius leapt for it and poured water into a mug before he realized he hated tea and poured it all down the drain.
Oh, Arceus, was he spiraling?
He saw himself cleaning dishes for no reason as if watching a movie of himself titled The Man Who Spiraled Out of Control.
Hassel came out of the bedroom looking ready to kill him for his noise crimes. He went somewhere out of sight, and Brassius almost forgot him entirely because his mind wouldn’t stop. His hands pulled at his hair trying to get a handle on things.
What if everything he ever made disappeared over time and they all forgot him? There would be nothing left to prove he even existed. What’s the point of all of this anyway? Don’t people just disappear from history over time? Why bother with anything if it’s all a waste of time!?
He needed to get away from the knives.
Brassius stretched his arms, but it hardly helped his mind. If anything he woke up more because of it. He needed to just pick a room and stop running all over the house. Maybe the bathroom?
By the time he found a new corner to rot in, he heard the piano being played in some other room. Hassel chose a melodic nocturne, probably to beckon him over instead of chasing him. Of course, it worked, and Brassius followed the music to find a disgruntled Hassel playing purely from muscle memory.
Brassius moved to sit next to him on the piano bench, naturally as if the spot next to Hassel belonged to him, but Hassel snipped at him before he could, “don’t sit! Get on the floor.”
Brassius hesitated. Did he mishear him? Surely he meant something else. He dismissed his words instead of attempting to figure out what he said or asking for clarification. He went to sit on the bench again.
Hassel placed a hand in the way and spoke slower yet just as firmly, “lay on the carpet.”
Brassius shook his head and walked about the room, cleaning, touching things, anything else but that. What had gotten into him? Hassel sounded ridiculous.
Hassel scoffed in disbelief. “Brassius. Floor.”
Fine. Why not!? He could do it for a minute and prove that it would accomplish nothing! He angrily laid himself down in the carpet close to the piano and stared at the ceiling.
Just as he thought, this felt silly and accomplished nothing.
At first, his thoughts turned dark again. He felt the urge to run, and not just around in the house—away from everything. This time the music started to catch his attention and his thoughts settled little by little. He focused on the music so much, he barely heard Hassel humming. He must have calmed down too, or somehow he could tell Brassius ceased his wild thoughts. Could he secretly read minds?
“I’m so sorry, Hass. There is a song that still plays some nights, and it’s a song that will always be playing in the back of my head; but tonight, like other nights, it’s louder than my peace.”
Hassel finished the song and turned to him, meeting his eyes with a softer expression now. He almost started on what might have been a lecture, but instead opened his arms and gestured him over. Brassius got up and fell into his arms immediately. He squeezed him in place.
“My beloved Brassie, I’m here for you against any enemy. Even the invisible ones.” He kissed the top of his head. “I can feel a soreness in my muscles; the pressure in the air must have dropped. I think that’s one of the reasons this particular episode was triggered. Everyone has a bad day now and then, even me. Now let’s go back to bed.”
Giving it a reason for happening helped Brassius push the anxiety that this would potentially happen again far away. So the world shifted, and it made his mind a little crazy. At least he found out he could be grounded again if this came up again. His mind finally came up for air after drowning him for the past—
He looked at the clock on the nightstand while Hassel guided him to bed. This whole thing started around midnight, but the clock clearly read five in the morning.
“Has it been that long?”
Hassel groaned and knocked over the clock so he couldn’t see the time. “Sleep in, I’ll call off. It’s fine. Please let’s just sleep.”
Brassius nearly argued with him for whatever reason, but Hassel dragged him into bed and laid on top of him, making it impossible to leave even if he debated his position well. He swore Hassel fell asleep when they hit the bed, and something about the weight on him helped him fall asleep quickly too.