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Owen collapsed to the ground, pain overcoming him in waves. It hurt, just like it had during his sickness. Maybe even worse, the brief pause in agony making everything feel so much sharper. For some reason, every couple weeks his body decided to remind him he was broken and wrong and all he could do was take it. He had tried to bury himself under that tower, tried to die, and now he was here.
It had been one of the only things that made him pause during his rampage against Oakhurst 200 years ago, and now it was happening again. It probably would for the rest of the eternity that Louis had gifted him.
At least he was already in the crypt, where the others were unlikely to find him. That was one of the benefits of moving to the castle, he didn't have to deal with the people in town. That would be strange, trying to explain why he didn't have a pulse and why his undead body still decided to put him through absurd amounts of pain as if he was alive.
"Fuck." He muttered as he tried to curl into the fetal position. It hurt. Every minute brush of his clothing against his skin sent waves of pain down his spine that settled and pooled in every area it could reach. It was all he could think about as he rocked back and forth, burning tears streaming silently down his face. Unfortunately, all he could do was wait it out.
After an unknown amount of time, it could have been a couple minutes or a month, a presence appeared. It was less of a physical presence and more of a mental presence, though Owen knew someone was there as well.
Owen raised his head, trying to look at the person, quickly regretting his decision as the feeble light of the crypt appeared blinding. He closed his eyes quickly, rubbing at them in a pathetic attempt to rip them out with his claws.
"Owen?" A gentle voice called out. It was too loud. The other person wrapped him in their arms, momentarily making Owen relax. He was brought back into reality in a moment, panicking as he realised he was far too vulnerable when he didn't even know who this was.
"Who-who-I-ugh." Owen stuttered, eventually giving up. He couldn't think well enough to string together a single coherent sentence. How useless was that?
“It’s Scott.” Owen’s breathing sped up. Fuck. Scott could not see him like this. He would kick him out of the coven, and he would lose everything he currently had and the support network he refused to properly acknowledge. “Shh, it’s okay, don’t freak out.” Scott said soothingly, rubbing Owen’s shoulder.
They sat in silence for a moment. The pause was almost worse than Scott telling him how pathetic he was, because there was so much uncertainty. It was like when people used to tell him they could bring him food or water or a blanket only to leave to get their friends to help bully the poor sick beggar. The little bit of hope was torture.
“Are you okay now?” Scott asked. Technically yes, Owen was back at his baseline pain level, but no, it still hurt and he hated it. He could go back out into the world and function normally, but he didn’t want to. Maybe he could just stay here alone in the crypt forever. “Owen?” Oh right, he wasn’t alone.
“I-I-I’m fine. You can get up and leave now.” Owen said, even if that was the last thing he wanted Scott to do. The cool feeling of his skin against his was like a balm, and he despised the concept of being by himself again.
“Do you want me to?” Scott asked, because he was an asshole who had to play with Owen’s emotions like that. No, of course Owen did not want that.
Instead of answering properly, he mumbled something incoherent and pressed himself against Scott’s side. He hoped it was enough that Scott wouldn’t make him say how pathetic he was.
“I did not expect you to be this cuddly. Your brain must be fried today.” Scott grinned, carding his fingers through Owen’s hair.
“Fuck off.” Owen responded eloquently, trying not to drift off. God, he was tired. He needed to get up and be productive instead of sleeping. What was he even tired from? Sitting around feeling sorry for himself for god knows how long? That was stupid.
His body did not comply as he slipped out of consciousness, still in Scott’s arms.