Chapter Text
They were alive — barely, but shallow breaths are breaths; a barely there pulse was still a pulse nonetheless — The burning in Phil’s lungs a distinct reminder of survival, humanity he’d unsubtly disconnected himself from ages prior.
Prior to tonight, prior to Lilly Bainbridge intruding upon his friendship with Theodore Uris dragging them into this whole strewed mess, prior to Matty disappearing — prior to Matty; stealing Teddy’s attention; being his friend; existing in their space against Phil’s wishes, prior to it all; Phil had still felt inhuman even then.
The difference between Matty and Phil was that Phil was breathing, even if harshly; even if shallow — he was breathing.
He was alive.
Teddy was alive; Susie was alive, both tattered, scraped up, scared out of their minds but alive.
So suck on that Matthew Clements!
Phil was forced from his train of thought as his bike came to a halt. – Teddy’s body tensing against his handlebars at the abrupt movement rammed; Phil took a note of that, quick yet only momentarily before it was overshadowed by Phil’s throat running dry, his eyes widening— everyone seemed to tense at the lights sitting on in the Malkin’s home; parents car tucked into the driveway. “Shit – shit.” Phil mumbled, a repetition with increasing panic plastering against his voice; hastily locking his bike in place – movements swift, almost subconscious still running against the adrenaline forcing itself through every muscle in his body. Phil stood against the sidewalk as he lifted his sister off the back of his bike, shooting Teddy a concerned glance that was met with one matching tucked beneath overwhelming anguish – his left leg practically hanging off the bone at the base of his thigh, curls stuck to his head by blood dripping down his forehead having had faced the heaviness of the flying thing’s violence; gifted a proper murder victim look.
Phil had little time to dwell; rarely did. He walked Susie to the door, ushering her quickly; if their parents were awake – and they most certainly were – it’d be Phil’s head on a silver platter — “I’ll be right back, okay?” Phil whispered, giving Susie– who had been silent shaking like a leaf the whole time they’d been out, and it certainly wasn’t due to the non existent cold.– a slight nod, brief before he made his way back down the pathway; half because he wasn’t expecting an answer out of her and half because Teddy was still clung to his handlebars, trying to steady himself.
Teddy had been trying to walk since the adrenaline rang itself out of his body to no avail; tears of frustration had been coughed back and hidden by the blood dripping down his eyelashes. It broke things in Phil watching Teddy struggle; movements pausing for a second as he watched – brows pinched together, matching the expression on Teddy’s own; with much less frustration however, much more ache in Phil’s eyes.
Isn’t that something? He was more sad about the sight– the injury than Teddy was.
He’d not yet realized his movements – not yet realized he was moving until he was standing next to him; until his arm was wrapped around Teddy’s shoulder while his other hand wrapped securely around his waist– gentle grasping, nothing but, never anything but while lifting him off the metal handlebars – bloodied.
“Hey – hey, I’m here, I got you Teds.” Phil whispered, quietly against the wind sounding much harsher now; softly, practically whispered against his curls. “Just – lean against me, ok? Just breathe and lean against me.” Phil continued hurriedly; arm shifting from its place wrapped around his shoulder to hook underneath his arm, manually wrapping Teddy’s right arm around his shoulder while the left rested uselessly by his side; allowing Phil to hoist him up and aid him in walking more efficiently ever so gingerly. — the two walked slowly; Teddy was practically being limply dragged against the driveway afterall, a whimpering and writhing mess; this wasn’t going to be a swift venture from point A to point B.
That part found itself painfully clear as Phil felt Teddy double over against himself, knees buckling underneath himself; steps and breathing stuttering, tripping over themselves each step, each breath. “Phil– I can’t.” Teddy choked so lightly, so quaintly; a barely there proclamation he’d rather have died then ever admitted if he wasn’t half-dead stood purely because of Phil’s arms holding him up — Phil would never admit that the tears streaking his flushed cheeks wasn’t inherently due to the cold winds rustling.
“But you have to,” Phil whispered, adjusting his hold on Teddy ever so slightly – wincing at the whimper following from the shorter boy, fighting back a sob of his own. “Teds. I’m sorry, ’m so sorry – ok, you hear me? You have to keep walking.” Phil never wished more that he’d picked any sport requiring upper body strength to indulge his time in more than now, to have worked on something that Teddy could’ve used him for now instead of aliens; now seeming so far away, so redundant with Teddy tucked against him; depending. In another life – another universe Phil was able to nod along with Teddy’s vulnerable admission; in another universe he’d shifted his hold on Teddy so he didn’t have to walk – picking him up, carrying him.
Being what he needed.
No, in another universe this never happened. In another universe they were having a sleepover, and none of this was an issue; in another universe it’d be allowed for one of them to lean in, and for the both of them to be happy.
but, they weren’t in that universe, they were in this one — they were in this one, just their damned luck nowadays.
“No, no – I can’t.” Teddy gasped quietly; choking on his own tears while his head shook, yet his body unconsciously seemed to follow Phil’s words, stumbling forward to rest his forehead against the side of Phil’s fathers car; half tempted to slide down onto the concrete and bleed out painfully. “You gotta.” Phil mumbled softly into his hair; burying the bottom part of his face into the blood-matted curls. “No, please – Phil– can’t.” Teddy seemed to be under the dazed impression that Phil was underestimating the severity of his wound; underestimating how horrifically his leg was gorged.
Now, Teddy wasn’t typically wrong; especially not recently when the two had butted heads – not that Phil would’ve ever admitted it to Teddy’s face – but he couldn’t have been more wrong in that assumption, horrifically wrong.
“I know, I know— Teddy, I know.” Phil mumbled, now shifting to hold his chest; moving Teddy’s back to be flush with his chest, practically moving to drag Teddy– allowing him to not strain himself, not any further. “I'm sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Teds.” Phil babbled, quietly; very rarely was he quiet, yet the timidness teasing his voice as he gingerly dragged Teddy up the porch steps wasn’t missable.
“Mommy? —”
Phil’s voice cracked, choking on his own tears now flowing freely as the door opened, a stream of light gazing down upon the three and alighting the gored mess that was Teddy Uris; limp but alive in Phil’s arms with Susie stood behind the two, cowering just a slight — a stern gaze from his mother quickly dissipating into concern, brows furrowing immediately as she rushed to the children’s sides, ushering them in.
Though they’d no doubt be leaving soon — there was no way for Teddy to live if he didn’t seek higher medical attention than Phil’s mother; despite her nursing status being a proud statement within the home, there wasn’t much she could do on her own.
Everyone’s words went weak on Phil’s ears as Teddy was stripped from his arms, picked up like he was weightless — unconsciously Phil still held his arms outstretched as if he was reaching out to hold something – someone, standing against the door; bleary-eyed and dazed. “Phil — Phil! Boy, can you hear me? Are you hurt? What in the hell happened?” he felt his father’s hand on his shoulders swiftly holding him close like he used to when Phil was younger – six or so. “I’m sorry — ‘ts my fault, dad, I’m sorry.” Phil stumbled over his words, barely feeling real as he buried his head into his father’s chest, not yet realizing the amount of blood the three had carried in; not yet realizing he, himself, was coated in the mess. “None of that, now. Just tell me what happened, we won’t be mad.” Phil’s father whispered, guiding his children into the living room where Phil’s mother and Teddy were, Teddy being laid on the couch; leg propped up on a pillow quickly soaking with blood; Phil’s mother kneeling gentle on the floor beside him, tending to the wound on his head beforehand. A wet wash cloth doing away with the dried blood — Susie tucked into their father’s arm; cradled close, clinging to him like a small wounded animal. “We snuck out, I’m sorry — we– me, Teddy, Susie and some other kids– were at the capitol — and, and,” Phil began with a shaking tone, cracking; words dying rotten on his tongue with the fact he couldn’t even begin to explain what had happened, because he had no clue himself. “Take your time.” His father whispered, moving some of Phil’s blood and sweat-stricken hair from his eyes; holding him protectively, arm wrapped around Phil’s shoulder. “We got-.. attacked, Dad.” The words hung heavy in the room, looming over — not even Teddy made a verbal noise until he seemed to deliriously notice Phil stood in the entrance way; hand lightly flexing as if it ached for something to grab, arm not lifting, yet he seemed to be under the impression it was.
Phil removed himself from his father’s grasp which lightened with shock; disbelief – Phil moved swiftly after the second time Teddy repeated the motion, followed by a small toned whimper — kneeling beside his mother but clearly not eager to get in her way, grabbing Teddy’s hand with both of his own; squeezing it twice.
“You were what?”
Phil tilted his head down; not able to stop the droplets painting down his cheeks — racing after each other, eager to turn into a river. “I should’ve– should’ve done something – done better.” Phil mumbled, bringing Teddy’s hand to his mouth; pressing what appeared to be a limp kiss, which was more so just Phil half-heartedly pressing his lips to the deep lacerations bearing the back of Teddy’s hand. — this action caused a slight confused glance to be shared between Phil’s mother and father; he saw from out of the corner of his own bleeding-together gaze. “Phil.” Teddy’s voice choked through, right hand grasping at Phil’s jacket; nails digging into the fabric wrapped around his shoulder; tugging him forward just a slight, his chin propping against Teddy’s middle.
The sight was quite that, a sight — Phil kneeling beside Teddy; chin propped against Teddy’s abdomen while Teddy himself laid propped up on their bloodied couch, sweat-sticky hair resting over Phil’s eyes and Teddy’s alike, their hands interlocked and limp. “I’m here, I'm here Teds.” Phil mumbled quietly; drained, shifting to rest the side of his cheek on Teddy’s torn button up instead.
“We gotta get you kids to the hospital.” Phil’s mother broke the silence, clearing her throat with a slight cough following her words — clearing a tension that wasn’t there, not to Phil anyway; not when Teddy’s fingers interlocked in his hair. “alright momma,” Phil babbled incoherently, brows itching together; nose scrunched — ears beginning to ring while his vision blurred, breathing hollowing out. He felt himself cough; blood speckling Teddy’s button up, a deep ache settling into Phil’s chest at the sudden iron taste filling his mouth that he couldn’t help but open after a while– body forcing himself not to swallow the blood while it poured out, painting his lips sickening and soaking his chin.
Then Phil awoke in a room; hearing coming to first of all —: he heard monitors beeping rapidly, he heard voices far away speaking amongst themselves, he heard shoes squeaking along equally squeaky-clean tiles, he heard the ticking of a clock's hand moving while the minutes passed, and he heard Teddy.
He heard Teddy sniffling beside him, speaking quietly under his breath— he heard the quick, tear-filled, quaint apologies falling rapid from his lips, then Phil heard something that he wasn’t sure of; something that must’ve been a trick of the ear.
“I love you, I’m sorry.”
Phil shouldn’t pay mind to it, he knew that, but he humored himself to himself nonetheless.
Phil’s eyes fluttered momentarily, vision finally aiding him – deciding to join him in his body; blurred around the edges Phil saw the horrible eye-straining white color of the ceiling first, then his head tilted and he saw an angel, an angel caught weeping by his bedside. Teddy’s shoulders were stiff, hands in his lap; fidgeting with his own fingers in a manner that made it clear he was fighting back the urge to engulf Phil in embraces — then Phil noticed the fact Teddy was sitting in a wheelchair; eyes narrowed with a speck of confusion inside his irises, brows pinched together. It made Teddy laugh; he saw that and heard that: the small sound – the tiny huff of air that escaped him, chest rising and falling swift, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips; still busted and bruised, but his nonetheless. “My leg’s screwed,” Teddy began with a hum, scratching at the base of his right palm with his left hand; barely avoiding the stitched together wound, it itched.
Phil couldn’t help the panicked noise that fell out of his throat at Teddy’s proclamation; his body felt fuzzy, his head felt full, and he felt blissfully out of control. — the ache was gone. “Not ‐ not that bad, I’ll be able to walk again! Kind of, somewhat.” Teddy started quickly at the noise, eyes immediately locking back in on Phil — fingers reaching out; fingers brushing his hair away from his face. “I’ll be okay, certainly. I’ll need some help for a while, maybe forever, but I'll make it, won’t I?” Teddy smiled gently at Phil; when was the last time he had smiled so soft? When was the last time he had smiled at all? — Phil considered himself blessed by the touch of God to be the one Teddy was smiling at, after all this time, it was still his smile.
Phil brought his fingers up to Teddy’s wrist, wrapping around it; squeezing twice. “Internal bleeding — that's- that's why you’re in the bed and I’m by your bedside. You were rushed into surgery, it went well— I think,” Teddy started, stuttering over his own words; gaze diverted to the door propped open — brows furrowed together. “they won’t.. tell me things, and whatever I get from your parents isn’t – isn’t true, they’re lying to me.” Teddy whispered frustrated; voice shaking, like it was a secret that they’d sanitize Phil’s condition after both went through such traumatic events — that Phil had lied about. Teddy leaned back in his chair, fingers still tracing the sides of Phil’s face idle; blinking slowly at the boy coming down from surgical anesthetics.
“At least we have an excuse to get out of running the mile.” Teddy tilted his head to the side at his own words; lips taking the shape of a slight pout, shifting his fingers to thread through the other boy’s short hair, lightly teasing his nails over Phil’s scalp. — If there was one thing about Teddy uris that wasn’t clear, it was the fact he was a giant nerd. The second thing would probably be how he talked when everyone but Phil wasn’t around; a lot — he spoke frequently when they were among themselves.
Well, not frequently; that’s overselling it. But, he talks a lot more than people give him credit for! — it’s just the fact that nobody else ever heard Teddy that was holding everyone’s opinions of him back; he could be talkative and social, just not in a verbal sense.
Then again, that truly just is their loss — Phil would indulge in Teddy’s nonverbal communication every day of the week.
“What? ‘S there something on my face, man?” Teddy’s quiet voice cut through Phil’s hazy thoughts; grounding him back to reality just as it did multiple times again. “You have to tell me if there is.” Teddy started up again, brows pinching together and eyes narrowing ever so softly; not having it in him to truly, even pretend to, be upset with Phil — not now, not after so much.
His words were slurred; quiet, a whispered sound, almost frustrated as he tilted his head into Teddy’s palm, nose shifting against the thin pillow his room gave, eyelids barely able to hold themselves up — but, god, the need to admire Teddy like the work of art he was — like the work of art he didn’t need to prove to be outweighed his exhaustion.
“I think Scotty’s an alien.”
Now bringing this to mind, regardless of whatever he did proclaim — that of which he does not recall, what Phil had wanted to say was– what he meant was: “You’re beautiful.” — those were essentially the same poetic confession though, were they not?
At least in Phil’s drug-idled brain they were, or he hoped they were.
Teddy’s demeanor shifted slightly into unveiled confusion; unthreading his fingers from Phil’s hair, nose scrunching slightly at the idea of Phil’s neighbor's cat being a secret visitor from the cosmos — wide eyes shifting to the floor then back to Phil, before he allowed a fond sigh to escape him. “Why?” Teddy humored him; always humored Phil’s outlandish theories, always would.
“You know why.” Phil all but whined quietly, attempting to lift himself up to take a proper look at Teddy — attempting to sober himself up, only to be met with an ear splitting headache upon shift; intense abdominal pain following suit. Just as swiftly as he’d gone up had he gone back down, eyes closing; squeezing — nose bunching up in discontent; “I don’t think I do,” Teddy whispered, confusion lacing his tone; leaning forward, cold fingers feeling like gentle rain drops on drought-ridden soil after years on Phil’s heated skin— the pads of his fingers grazing over it in a way that left goosebumps, hovering and unintentionally taunting. “d’you need me to get a nurse, Phil?” Teddy’s voice was the only thing to carry over softly against every ear-splitting noise elsewise assaulting his eardrums; as if heaven was speaking to Phil personally, directly in the form of a boy whose fingers laid rested against his cheek.
“Yea– yeah, I think.” Phil tucked his knees into his chest; shakes erupting against himself— nausea washing over in violent tidal waves that drowned him rapidly; crashing and taking him in its jaws.
And Phil was so pitifully aware in the moment that he was going to the deepest pits of hell for how his body ached when Teddy’s fingers disconnected from his temple; burnt at the loss — he was aware that there was a special spot in the burning fires for him, a gold plaque with his name on it; torture so personalized awaiting him. He was able to come to terms with it when he opened his eyes once more to a crowded room and unconsciously skimmed over his parents, the nurses, everyone; immediately locking in on Teddy– softening upon spotting him sitting in his wheelchair behind every other person in the room.
Quiet worry filling his eyes; brows furrowed, nails scratching at his wrist — his Teddy, smaller against the crowd; not letting anyone see what Phil did.
It’d be awhile before the two had another chance to be alone — turns out with wounds like they both had; consistent supervision was a part of the deal! Especially since Phil had torn his stitching, twice, in one day.
The two were also respectively facing different levels of grounding for not only sneaking out (and in Phil’s case: sneaking his sister out as well) but breaking into the Capitol theater was a major part included, so there was that to look forward to.
Phil had no Teddy, he was grounded until he died essentially, practically bed-bound recovering from surgery, the police were hounding Phil because apparently– allegedly– Teddy hasn’t said a word, at all, and that’s his fault. To add on, the hospital food was utter shit; great week, truly, great situation Phil’s found himself in.
Teddy was right though, at least they didn’t have to run the mile.