Chapter Text
Thom was behind the wheel, trying to stay focused on the task at hand. He couldn't keep his mind from wandering, however. The ever-persistent thought of the metal death trap he was sitting in kept him distracted. One wrong move and it would be over. Would it be instant? Or would it be long, dragged out destined only to make him suffer? It was night now, would some poor person on their morning jog find his mangled body? Would the birds have gotten to him by then?
His eyes wandered to the man beside him. He was completely in his own world, it seemed. Staring into nothing, chewing mindlessly on his fingers. Brown hair draped across his forehead, tucked behind his ear. It looked muted in the dark. What would happen to him? Images of possibilities flashed through Thom’s mind. Bones sticking out, limbs twisted in ways they shouldn't be, shards of glass finding their way into every crevice, a pool of red surrounding him. It would be Thoms fault.
Jonny turned his head to him, leaning against the headrest behind him. Thom looked away.
“Did we bring any water?”
Thom nodded towards the back seat. Jonny unbuckled his seat belt, twisting backwards to grope for the water bottle. Once in hand, he turned back around. His arm moved towards his seatbelt to rebuckle.
It happened in an instant.
Curse his own mind, as if he somehow brought this upon them just by thinking about it. Maybe he did it on purpose. Maybe he wanted this to happen. He wasn’t really paying attention to the road anyways.
If someone asked him, he would tell them he couldn’t remember how it happened. Truth was, he remembers seeing the animal on the side of the road. Watching as it made a mad dash towards their car, as if drawn by fate. They were coming around a bend, too, going about 88 kph. That's just bad luck. Could he have stopped in time? Maybe, in another life.
He really doesn't remember how they ended up like that. He must've blacked out, or his mind did him the favor of erasing it. At first he couldn’t feel anything when he came to. There was just a shrill sort of ringing in his ear as he watched the airbag deflate. He’ll always remember the scene before him, however.
The front of the car was demolished, the windshield completely smashed, and Jonny was missing. His gut sank.
From what Thom could tell, he himself was relatively fine. With a shaky hand and a horrible feeling, he pushed the car door open and climbed out. The headlights illuminated the dark road ahead, forest surrounding both sides. They were completely alone. As he crept towards the front of the car, the feeling got worse.
Thom felt like he was punched in the gut. All the air left him, he couldn’t breathe- hell, he couldn't even react. He just stood there, taking in the sight before him. The images his mind had conjured just minutes prior had materialized right in front of him. There Jonny was, sprawled on the floor. He was coated in glass from the windshield, cutting up and shredding every visible area of his pale skin. His right arm was bent backwards, the skin scraped open, leaving a grotesque wound that kept oozing blood. His cheek resembled mince meat, the ripped flesh exposing his teeth.
Thom just stared. How on Earth was this the same person he was just talking to?
Jonny wheezed. It sounded eerily similar to the sound of a computer that's been left on for far too long. One that's begun to overheat.
Thom moved towards the man below him, calling his name, but receiving no response. Dropping to his knees next to him, he pushed him onto his back, but Jonny remained silent. Thom shook him. Still silent. Dread filled him. A shaky hand reached for Jonny’s wrist, shoving two fingers between his tendons. Nothing. Thom heaved a breath. His hand came up to his neck instead, ignoring the glass, ignoring the blood, ignoring the absence of a pulse on his wrist.
Still nothing. He wasn’t breathing, his chest wasn't moving. Didn't he just breathe? Surely that couldn't have been his last, or maybe Thom imagined it? No, he’s fine. He’s probably just being dramatic, he always has been, hasn’t he? Ever since Thom’s known him. Ever since he was just Colin’s weird little brother.
Thom examined himself. He was now covered in blood. It wasn’t his. Red was all Thom could see. If Jonny were awake, would he be able to see it? The way the red paints the pavement. The warm hues of his own exposed muscle. Would it blend together into the same muddy colours he’s always seen? Would Thom have to describe what it looks like?
Sitting back, Thom continued to stare. God, what on Earth was he supposed to do? The obvious answer would be to call 999, but that was the last thing on Thom’s mind at the moment. He studied Jonny. He would be fine. Thom has a first aid kit at home, this will be easy.
He stood, walking over to the still wrecked car and opened the passenger side door. Carefully, he tried to lift and carry Jonny. That didn’t go very well. He was heavier than he looked. Cursing himself and promising to apologize later, Thom instead opted to drag the unconscious man towards the car. With a lot of struggle, he managed to get him back into the passenger seat, slumped over onto the middle console. Thom got in the drivers side himself, maneuvering Jonny until he was instead slumped against the door of the car.
Adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he started the car, and continued the drive back home.
Once home, Thom paused again. Jonny was fine, just.. asleep. How was he going to manage to get him inside? Drag him all the way there again? Fix him up right there on the floor?
Thom considered it.
He couldn’t really think of anything else. Sure, he could call someone. Colin, perhaps. That'd be quite the conversation. ‘Hey Coz, I've got your heavily injured and unconscious little brother on the floor, a little help please?’
Colin would murder him.
He went with his first idea.
Jonny was seriously heavier than he looked. Or maybe Thom was weaker than he thought. Either way, getting Jonny just to the front door was an entire workout, and he had left quite the trail of blood behind him. If Jonny wasn’t sore from his injuries, he definitely would be from all the dragging. Thom groaned at the thought of having to clean up the mess.
Thom unlocked the front door, shoving it open, nearly collapsing with the force of it. He felt loopy, his head was buzzing, and combined with the adrenaline starting to wear off he felt like he was going to pass out. He couldn’t, though. Had to help Jonny first.
Thom dragged him the rest of the way in, shutting the door behind him. Jonny lay limp on the floor. He didn’t look any better, but at least he didn’t look any worse. Thom left him there, stumbling towards the kitchen. If he was doing this, he needed a drink. Maybe two.
With a new warmth blooming in his belly, he made his way to the bathroom, grabbing the dingy first aid kit he kept. As he stood, he swayed. The alcohol hit him harder than usual, and he grabbed onto the sink for support. Taking a minute to recuperate, he continued his journey back down the hallway. As he turned his head, his vision seemed to move slower than his movements. God, he was dizzy. Was he really going to be sick? No. He had to keep pushing. Jonny first, puke and pass out later.
His body was heavily disagreeing with him. He developed a pounding headache, like his skull was being split open from the inside. He staggered over to Jonny, collapsing next to him. Vision blurry, he grappled with the kit, grabbing whatever was on top. Some gauze. Quickly he realized all this would be useless without some water, and maybe some hydrogen peroxide. Now, Thom was the furthest thing from a doctor. He honestly has no clue if peroxide would even be useful considering the… extent, of the other man's injuries. But it couldn’t hurt, could it?
As Thom stood, it felt like he had the weight of the world had come on top of him. He wasn't even fully upright as he was being pulled back down by gravity. He landed on his knees, opting to try to crawl if he couldn’t walk. This didn’t work too well either, and his arms gave out under him. Jesus, what was wrong with him? Jonny was hurt beyond belief and he couldn’t even bring himself to crawl his way to the sink? Pathetic.
This was a new low. Thom gave up, rolling over onto his back. His body did hurt. He turned his head towards Jonny. His heart clenched. Jonnys eyes were closed. He almost looked peaceful. Despite the mess on the other side of his face, this side was relatively unharmed in comparison. On his back, his overbite caused his front teeth to protrude, making his lip poke out. His cheeks naturally sunk into his jaw, but they looked even sharper currently. Thom always thought he had beautiful bone structure. Maybe he was even envious. Jonny was symmetrical, sharp. The way he wore his hair framed and complimented his face in such a lovely way.
Thom sucked in a shuddering breath. He reached out, once again holding two fingers against the brunette's neck. Nothing. Oh.
This was it? He was gone? Just like that? There was so much he hadn’t said. Hadn’t done. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he did nothing to stop them. He turned on his side, scooting closer to Jonny, he maneuvered his body, laying his head on top of the others chest, in the middle, towards the left. Maybe if he put his ear directly over it, he would hear his heart beating. Slow and steady, maybe feel the rise and fall of his chest as his lungs filled with air. Nothing.
Thom closed his eyes as his body succumbed to his drowsiness. He couldn’t manage to stay awake no matter how hard he tried. He fell asleep with his cheek sticky from the blood of the man below him.