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Messages - GoblinFae

#1
Without being able to see through his tears and hands, Theo completely missed Fletcher's protests and so continued to sob and apologize without interruption. "First there was the..." he quieted as he signed the word for 'kiss' before continuing, "and then you got in trouble when I promised you everything would be okay and it wasn't and I was too cocky and let my ego get in the way. Everything's been falling apart and it's all my fault. I thought if I just gave you space it would be okay but I should have just apologized sooner. And I'm so, so sorry. I've ruined everything. And I said such horrible things to you. I called you the worst names. I've never even used those words out loud before and I was so mad and I took it out on you. And then I went and had another pathetic pity party," he spat the words flailing his right hand up into the air only to whimper-groan at the pain and bring both hands back into his lap.

Sniffling and with red, teary eyes Theodore finally looked up at his friend and met his gaze. "This is not how friends behave. I am so," the breath caught in his lungs making his words shutter and shake, "so sorry. For my actions. My words. Everything."
#2
Fletcher smiled at him and Theo burst into tears. The weight of the months of their deteriorating friendship that had resulted in his disgusting, violent, on cruel outburst on the training grounds followed by his own guilt-filled pity party and broken hand slammed into him all at once. Oh how he had missed that smile, had missed his friend and their bond. To have it now when he deserved it the least just made him cry harder. His medicine was precariously abandoned so he could bury his face in his hands while sobbed all the harder. 

"I don't deserve it...or you. I have been so awful to you and I'm so sorry. I'm a terrible friend."
#3
Theo recoiled his head back from the drink as he attempted to reach for it with his injured right hand. He was still so foggy from passing out and the pain, that it took several reaching attempts to figure out that he couldn't use that hand and that was the reason why Fletcher was playing keep away with the cup. Finally, he managed to accept it with his left hand although he immediately placed it in his lap instead of drinking from it.

"What happened? Why am I...home? Yes, home. How much trouble am I in?"
#4
The healer raised his brows, a brief look of amusement passing his features at the knowledge before nodding his head. Theodore would be in excellent care then. The Baroness for her part however waved Fletcher off, commanding him to do what was best while she tried to sort out the payments and clothes and healer all in one go.

Theo on the other hand started to come in and out of consciousness while Fletcher was absent getting the carriage together. In fact the entire getting into the carriage, getting home, and getting into bed were a blur of lights and faces and dizzying movement. His hand still throbbed and ached something fierce. "It hurts," he groaned, finally admitting to his pain while trying to sit up in bed. "Did...is the outfit ok?"
#5
"Not until I remove the bandaging in two to three weeks time and then only scales and minor stretching. If he feels pain he is to stop and not push through. Poor lad, he does seem to be the stubborn type. Let me tend to her ladyship," the healer replied, rolling his eyes with a deeply aggravated sigh. "See to it he's brought home at once. Boy needs his rest. I can trust you with his medicine then?" A bag was held out to Fletcher to take as the man gave him a very stern and pointed look. 
#6
Theo was out before he even hit Fletcher's arms. His head lulled in unconsciousness into the other man's neck as he was carried to a sofa to lay on. The garments were quickly removed and the healer made quick work of getting a direct answer from the Baroness. At least with Theodore passed out, the most painful part of initiating the magical splinting and healing would not be something he remembered. Baroness Archer of course was losing her mind in concerned hysterics as the other ladies worked to console.

Even unconscious though, the nobleman made a pained groan of pain as the healer worked as quickly and efficiently as he could. Theo's hand glowed blue then purple and finally settled on green before the magic sunk within his skin. Healer Stoney then wrapped the man's hand in bandaging and turned to address Fletcher with Theodore's care. I will be giving him some mandragora with will help with the pain but will also act as a sedative for him. He will likely be very tired and very out of it. Don't be surprised if he experiences some hallucinations or acts out of character. However, if he does start vomiting, discontinue use entirely. It should fully heal in two to three weeks but if he is still experiencing problems, have me sent for. For the first week though see that he is taking the mandragora every quarter of the day without fail. After that point only as needed and by the later weeks he can switch to willow bark tea to manage the more minor pains. Questions?"
#7
Had the circumstances been different Theo might have actually been amused by how antsy Fletcher was. His bodyguard had always come off so confident and go with the flow that seeing such anxiety over such a small injury was almost endearing. Having seen the scars, Theodore could only imagine what worse treatment the other man had survived and didn't at all feel the fussing was necessary.

Pretty boys like him always turned out fine. A little pain was the least he could quietly suffer given how much worse others regularly endured. He was sure if he complained he'd just be made fun of for the fact his precious piano was at risk of losing a player or that his penmanship would no longer be as graceful as it once was. Poor pretty boy. Look how he feels so sorry for himself.

No he deserved this. This was for losing his temper. This was for hurting his friend. This was for being such a constant spoiled brat, for lacking compassion, patience, and understanding. He'd forgotten his place. Of course Fletcher wouldn't trust him after he'd kissed him in public, after he got his job threatened, after he ruined everything while swearing with an ego the size of a watermelon that it would be fine, he'd handle it, he knew what he was doing.

Theo grunted as another pin stabbed into his ribs. The women were all smiles and laughter in direct contrast to the anxious, concerned Fletcher. The nobleman for his part nodded his slightly in understanding, doing his best to offer a small half-smile. He was fine. He'd be fine. No need for his friend to worry more about his job or person. It wasn't Fletcher's fault after all. Theo was the one with petulant overgrown child temper tantrums.

Blessedly the healer arrived not much later. He was an older man known for his no-nonsense attitude but gentle hands and competent care. He was also a skilled mage.

"Ladies please. I clearly have a patient here. Can't this wait?"

"There are too many pins that need placing. We cannot stop now! Work around us!"

Theo offered the man an apologetic look while doing his best to hold his hand out still and straight for him. His bit his lip and whimpered as it was palpated, eyes shut against the pain or perhaps out of fear of seeing Fletcher's expression.

The cry however seemed to finally catch the Baroness's attention who immediately went from a fashion crazed mother to a suddenly concerned and sympathetic one. "Oh my baby my baby," she cried trying to touch his face and offer comfort. "What's wrong with him?!"

"Definitely broken," the healer murmured softly. "This could have gone seriously awry young man. You should have sent for me sooner."

"I apologize," Theo replied readily. "I knew how important this appointment was and did not dare keep these lovely ladies waiting. I will be more mindful in the future." The way he spoke came so easily as if he had been made to apologize for existing his entire life.

"Now then there are three methods of which I can repair this—"

"Oh by any means necessary! My Teddy Bear is a pianist. He must be able to use his hands by the upcoming debutante ball to entertain his sweetheart the Lady Obower. Have you met her? She's such a delightful lady isn't she?"

"As I was saying, the bones are pretty set sir but they risk falling out of place as you attempt to use the hand while it is healing. We can simply bandage the hand and allow nature to take its course. It would be very slow however—"

"That isn't an option. Next. I only want the best. Cost isn't a problem. We need this done quickly!"

Theo swayed slightly where he stood, his vision going a bit fuzzy as his mother continued to keep interrupting the healer. "Perhaps Mother we could let Mr. Stoney finish his assessment," he whispered. His stomach turned again and he wondered if he was ill right here how long he'd survive afterwards for causing such offenses.

"Are you well, Honorable Lord Archer?" The healer placed a hand on Theo's shoulder while trying to peer into the man's eyes.

"I will be fine under your care, thank you."

The older man, ignoring the Baroness's prattling, squinted his eyes before reaching into his bag and unwrapping a small candy. "This will settle your stomach sir. Just don't chew it." He continued as Theo popped the ginger and honey pastille in his mouth with a slight grimace at the taste.

"As I was saying the fastest option is to cast a healing spell however they have a tendency when it comes to hand and arm bones to be rather volatile on rare occasions or to heal improperly. My recommendation is a hybridization of magic and nature. If I use magic I can splint and hold the bones in place while allowing the body to do what it needs to. However, it will be much more painful but will also heal much faster and in theory correctly. I can prescribe mandragora for the pain but it will mean you will be confined to bed until it heals as the effects are quite strong."

Theo was already in the process of nodding his head to accept the more painful option when his mother started off asking after the speed of healing and if he'd be able to play piano. His vision blurred again, the edges turning black as swayed again, completely unsure if he'd manage to catch himself before he fell off the pedestal.
#8
Theo did his best to rest his injured hand in his lap. The jostling of the carriage however was doing nothing for the pain. The man whimpered softly, biting his lip hard at one particularly nasty bump in the road and looking more and more by the second like he was going to be ill. He pressed his knee into Fletcher's without thinking, taking comfort from friendly contact in the crowded, unpleasant space that was as much a cage as home.

He practically tumbled right out of the carriage as soon as it stopped and had to lean against the side to keep from upending his stomach on the spot. Not even the Baroness's flailing and squawking was phasing him in the moment. "Tiffany," Theo called softly to the very tall and broad-shouldered guard. "Can you fetch the healer please." The man nodded his head although glanced to Fletcher, wordlessly asking permission as Ivory dragged her son in for his fitting.

The nobleman was immediately swarmed by the seamstress and her assistant as all three woman took to poking at his clothes and trying to use him as a living doll for their own entertainment. For his part, Theodore endured without complaint save for the occasional flinch and jerk of his hand as it was bumped in their excitement.
#9
"We're going to be late," he sighed. "And I'm covered in sand. She's going to have a fit. Her poor nerves." Theodore shook his head and did his best to brush his shoulder off with one hand while walking out the door and down the stairs. Sure enough, as soon as he was within sight, the Baroness started up her godawful shrieking, going on and on about them being late and how difficult it was to even get an appointment with this seamstress to begin with and how prestigious the woman was, how she did the clothes for the Viscountess Noxel and not just anyone could do that harpy's clothes.

"What happened to your hand?! Oh my nerves!" The Baroness immediately started faint-falling in Fletcher's direction the moment the pair were within range and she caught sight of Theo's broken hand. She fanned herself rapidly while melting to the floor. 

"I require a healer. I had a fall," he replied in an unusually reserved and clipped manner. "The fitting can wait."

"The fitting most certainly cannot! Into the carriage at once! BOTH OF YOU!" Suddenly the woman was apparently fine from her nervous spell and was back to her feet and shoving her son forward as fast as possible. "You too Mr. Daw! You've delayed us long enough Teddy Bear. We can have a healer meet us there!"

Mother and son sat side by side leaving only the spot across from Theo for Fletcher as the Baroness placed her tiny coin purse in the space across from her.
#10
He didn't need to hear to know it. Theo wanted nothing more than to reach out and cup Fletcher's cheek, to brush the sweat off his brow, to pull him close and reassure him it was okay, that there was nothing to worry about. His eyes slid away from the other man's lips as a shadow fell over them. He didn't have the right to care. He was a terrible friend and this was just pity and fear for Fletcher's job. The man was even trying to cover for him again.

"No. It's my fault. I was standing on the chair and it broke. I tried to use my hand to catch myself and there was a snap. It's my fault. I'm sorry to trouble you. Can you please help right the folding screen before we get help? Don't need extra questions."
#11
Inhale. Exhale. Silent scream.

Theo kept his eyes on Fletcher's face as the man felt the bones in his broken hand. But, even the slightest pressure turned him green and the fullest pressure blew his pupils as wide as dinner plates. His lips turned pure white in an effort to keep them closed while a muffled, wheezing, groaning scream of pain strained out of him.

The nobleman breathed fast and heavy from his nose as he was released, brows furrowed in pain as he desperately focused on remaining put together. It took several attempts for him to be able to speak but, even then it was through loosely gritted teeth.

"It will heal on its own. The Baroness will be expecting us downstairs soon."
#12
He readjusted his stance to brace himself better and then nodded. "Go ahead."
#13
Theo looked away like a sullen teenager because he knew that Fletcher's words were true. He just could not understand how the man could be so seemingly gentle and patient with him though after all the horrible things he said and way he behaved. Or how he could act like he cared after months of just holding him at a distance. Of course Theodore wanted his friend back, but not like this, not because of this. It just made him feel like they were never friends at all. But, then again, given their status differences, perhaps that was the truth after all.

With a short, reluctant sigh, Theo removed his hand from under his arm, although he refused to look down at it and held it out to Fletcher. The back of his hand was already blooming a nasty black bruise and had begun to swell. His fingers hung half-curled as if the effort to straighten them was too much. The skin itself was hot to the touch, a stark contrast to his usual icy hands. The look on his face though was that of complete and utter shame.
#14
He untucked his uninjured left hand and held it up to Fletcher. First he turned it one way and then the other, proving there was nothing wrong with it all while giving the look of a very irritated teenage boy who had no time for his overbearing parents and their pointless rules and nonsense. "Happy?"
#15
He pursed his lips and glanced guiltily at the chair while muttering under his breath. "Clearly the chair was the one more in need of rescuing." Theo nearly gasped though as he saw Fletcher's back. He bit his lip hard instead to quiet himself. The extent of healed injuries was far more than he had ever imagined. Theo had been told over the months of knowing Fletcher that he had an angry father and had also lived at sea for a good portion of his life. But, this was far more than just that. It made him feel sick to his stomach knowing how strong Fletcher was to have survived while he himself whined and bemoaned a life of luxury and comfort. It was disgustingly out of touch with reality, and he knew it.

Theo scrubbed at his face, turning his back to the servant quarters and began picking some things up. The privacy screen would require help but the items knocked over on the dresser he could handle himself. He used his foot to sweep the chair pieces into a pile. By the time Fletcher was walking back in the door, Theodore was righting the last tchotchke.

The nobleman crossed his arms, tucking his injured hand carefully under the other and out of view while looking at Fletcher with an unimpressed raised brow. He shrugged and looked around the room. "It's a mess, I know. Have at it if you wish to confirm its safety." He shook his head and stepped back from the chair carnage, turning rather green as the movement jostled and squished his hand in a deeply painful way.
#16
Theo paled and then turned bright red as his actions caused Fletcher to coming flying into the room to his aid. The nobleman quickly dropped his injured arm, hiding it as best as he could behind his back while shifting his body to the side some to better hide it. His face went through a series of expressions that were all varying shades of guilty child caught misbehaving: anger to hurt to shame, guilt, and embarrassment.

His voice came off rough as if his earlier expletives had burned his vocal chords right out of him with their acid. "Apologies for concerning you. I..." Theo trailed off, completely unable to explain what happened or look the other man in the face. His blush deepened further though when he realized he was staring at Fletcher's bare chest. He hadn't expected the man to have so many tattoos or scars, to look so good.

Hazel eyes snapped up to meet Fletcher's eye, knowing he'd been caught looking. "I have no excuse for my actions--where are your clothes?" The last part left him suddenly in a whooshing rush as if the words stole his last breaths from his lungs.
#17
The passage of time was unrecognizable to Theodore. He sat in his chair, head in his hands, existing, breathing, but a husk of himself. He did not understand what had come over him. He did not recognize the uncontrollable rage that had fueled so much nasty, oily, venomous violence within him. The insults he had spewed rang in his head again and again. Never in his life had he uttered such hateful things before and yet there he had been passing them out like lifelines and to of all people, his only friend.

His stomach turned sharply as bile rose in his throat. He clumsily stumbled to his feet, knocked over his privacy screen in passing and collapsed in front of his washing basin, dry-heaving wretchedly in his self-loathing.

What had he done?

What ugliness had he unleashed and at what cost?

Theo cursed himself aloud in his native tongue as he gripped the wash basin in a steely hold. If he thought the words he'd called Fletcher were vile the ones he called himself were even more heinous. He hated this place. He hated his cage. He hated what he had done. He hated his own weakness. Yet, more deeply and more raw than all of it was his own hatred for himself.

He punched the side of metal tub as hard as he could, a loud bang reverberating through the two rooms followed by a deeply muffled whimper of pain. The very breath froze in his lungs as white-hot pain exploded up from the back of his hand up into his elbow in radiating, pulsing shockwaves. Tears prickled once more at the corners of his eyes as he dragged himself to his feet his right arm cradled in his other hand so that he could return to his main room.

With a steadying breath he attempted to make a fist and paled with the pain and realization that his hand would not obey. "FUCK!" He swore kicking a chair as hard as he could, sending it flying explosively across the room and into his dresser where it broke apart.

Unbeknownst to Theodore, there was something very special about the nanny room that was conjoined with his own. When the room was built, it was done so in such a way that any sounds made in Theo's room were as clear as if made within Fletcher's space. It was done so that a nanny could hear the softest whimper of discomfort or whisper of mischief from an infant and later young boy and act accordingly. Having lost his hearing as a child and no one ever informing him of this fact, Theodore had no idea that Fletcher could hear every single little part of his current temper tantrum as if it was happening in the same room as him. 
#18
Theo was on his feet not far behind Fletcher once he was set free. His breath heaved hard and heavy in his lungs as he stood in a wide-legged bracing stance with bent knees and hunched shoulders as if prepared for another attack. But when the other man simply stared at him, the nobleman marched right up into the bodyguard's face and proceeded to repeatedly jab him in the sternum. 

"You. Are not. Alone! Quit acting like it!"

He did not even wait for a reply as he stomped away from him and back into the house. His throat hurt but his heart ached more. Theo's eyes burned with tears he fought so desperately to hold back. If he just made it to his room. If he just kept it together long enough no one would have to see what a child he was. What a weak, catty woman he was. What a terrible, terrible friend he was. 

His heart thundered in his ribcage as he found himself holding his breath. Stairs were taken two at a time and blessedly before he knew it he was in his room. He had no idea if Fletcher followed him. If he was honest he didn't want to know. Theo did not dare look back as he attempted to slam his bedroom door behind him seconds before collapsing into the nearest chair with jelly legs and disquieting numb fog filling his senses and emotions. 
#19
One minute he'd succeeded and the next he was pinned under Fletcher with his throat in a warning grasp. It meant nothing to Theo though. Anger instead of self-preservation was his driving force. His bodyguard could truly be attempting to kill Jin and he would still fight like a demon out of hell. 

Instead of fighting the grasp at his neck, Theodore snarled and clawed at Fletcher's face. His eye, his ears, his nose, nothing was safe. The nobleman looked like a man crazed and possessed. "Mate?" He spat through bared teeth. "As if you've allowed me friendship the last few months!"

He slapped at the man's ear and tried to shove him off his chest while spewing hateful venom in an increasing over-boiling rage. "Get the fuck off me you fat-kidneyed, wandoughty, fopdoodle, cunt-bitten coward!"
#20
The nobleman went down again with an oof. But, a breath later he was clumsily clambering back into his feet. It was as if hitting the ground had turned a wheel in him and released all of his buried feelings, igniting them into a burning inferno that screamed to fight.

Why did Fletcher get to decide when they were done because he was bored? Why did Theo who was miserable to begin with have to do all this and be made more miserable? Why was it only on the other man's terms? Why did it have to be only his way? Why couldn't he meet him in the middle in a way Theo could manage? 

Why wasn't his friend speaking to him anymore?

Blind fire turned to ice in Theo's veins. Why wasn't Fletcher talking to him anymore? Why wasn't he accepting help? Why wasn't he sharing what was hurting him? Why was he staying if being here was so miserable?

"And I am not a child!" He bellowed back. Theo bent his knees, tucked his chin, and squared his shoulders before attempting to tackle Fletcher again. This time, the moment he connected with his bodyguard's waist, he immediately dropped his own weight to hit the ground in a desperate effort to use his own momentum to drag the man off balance and ground himself further.

"You are not a god! Your way is not the only way!"