“Paralyzed from the waist…” The words kept fading in and out as people spoke. “He may never walk again-” Only ever hearing pieces of what was being said as Alessandro and Francesca stood behind their son and listened. “They reduced the swelling in his brain but he’s still in a coma…” Nurses and doctors alike tried to explain what had happened. “They’re doing everything they can, he’s on life support…” Police wanted to question Giovanni about what had happened, why he’d even been there, but he couldn’t find any words to say. He felt like his entire life was spiraling out of control.
“We really need to take into account that he may not wake up.” That line hit him far harder than even Freight Train could. Somehow he remained standing, but it was possible that was due to the fact that he was lost in a daze. Unable to fully focus or even function correctly. Stuck somewhere in a panic limbo.
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Gio only knew a few things for certain. Isaiah was in a coma and would be paralyzed if he ever woke up. Myla, or Hildr as was her real name, had seemingly disappeared completely off the face of the planet. News channels were already reporting on how it seemed that Valkyrie vanished in a soft golden light. Warmonger hadn’t been recovered from any of the rubble, but Leviathan had fought his way out from the police’s grasp and flew away. It was assumed they both escaped since no remains had been found. And Gio? Well, he was lucky to be alive according to everyone. He was bruised and scraped up, but had no serious injuries at all. In fact, Leviathan had shielded him with the wings of his exo-suit and saved him from possibly breaking his legs in the fall as the building collapsed.
He couldn’t think straight. He could hardly see clearly, even. Terrified to even leave his penthouse because of all the reporters that were swarming the entrance to his building. Alessandro had been dealing with talking in front of the cameras to try and make the vultures leave his son alone, but everyone had the same burning question: why had Isaiah been attacked and what was Gio’s connection to the man? Everything was swirling around him and he felt like he was suffocating.
Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed a jacket and pulled his hood up. He took the elevator down to the underground parking deck and managed to slip by all the cameras and reporters by sneaking out on foot. He kept his head down and blended into the foot traffic as best he could. He could feel it creeping in, the full-blown panic. It made his head feel like it was swimming, like his lungs were trying to fill with water, and then came the intrusive thoughts. His chest tightened and he couldn’t breathe, even though he was trying desperately to take slow and deep breaths. His throat felt like it was constricting, his heart hammered so quickly it felt like it was going to break his ribs, and he felt dizzy. Yet somehow he managed to stay on his feet.
Knocking shoulders with people that were walking without paying attention. He just wanted to get to where he was going and not caring who was in his way. He could feel eyes on him, scrutinizing him and his every move. It felt like everyone was watching him, as if they knew exactly who he was and what had happened. Staring at him and pointing, even though hardly anyone had so much as glanced at him. Gnawing away exactly like how he chewed at the insides of his cheeks. Pointer fingers picking away at the cuticles of his thumbs on hands that were shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He could feel it looming — pressing down hard on his back and shoulders. It made his tongue feel like it fit uncomfortably inside his mouth and his saliva was too thick for him to swallow.
Each stair he managed to carry himself up made his body feel heavier. Keenly aware that he could miss a step and go tumbling to his death. He had no idea that tears were streaming down his face until he felt them roll down his neck and under his shirt. It made him feel sticky and hot, all the more uncomfortable. Whenever he finally got to the third floor, door three zero three, he leaned so heavily on the wall that he could hear it creaking due to his weight. Once he got his hand up to the door, making a fist to knock, he finally noticed just how badly his hands were trembling.
Barely a tap at first, he knocked again and this time wound up pounding the door. He heard quick footsteps from inside, a dog barking and claws on wooden floorboards as both the person and the dog on the other side finally reached the door. He could hear locks being turned quickly before finally the door opened entirely and revealed an exasperated Tate. For a moment he just stared at Gio, not bothering to keep Mrs. Heo’s dog, Bae, inside as she wandered out and sniffed all around Gio’s feet. The man had almost forgotten that Tate agreed to pet-sit the dog when Mrs. Heo’s grandson, the new landlord who’s name was In-Su, was at work. It only lasted a moment until Tate nearly crashed into Gio, wrapping his arms tightly around Gio’s torso and pulling him into the apartment. He managed to shut the door after Bae trotted in, still holding onto Gio.
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Eventually Tate let go and pulled away. He gently pushed Gio’s face up by his chin and then held his face, looking into Gio’s eyes with clear worry. “Deep breaths, G.” He rested their foreheads together with a soft bump when they first connected, just how they used to do whenever Giovanni was younger and unmedicated. “You’re right here, right now, with me. Safe and sound, without anyone to judge you.”
Before therapy and medicine, Tate was one of the only people that could calm Gio. Even during his worst panic attacks, he would sit with him until he calmed down every time. Now was no different, as Tate led him over to the couch and made him sit down. He sat on the other side, extending his hand and offering it. Gio hesitated, but he took it. He was near hiccuping from crying so hard, still struggling to get his breathing calmed. “I’m gonna count your fingers and I want you to take a deep breath in and exhale slowly for every one, alright? Can you do that?” Gio just nodded his head quickly as a response.
It took counting his fingers twice, but he was finally breathing regularly and his heart rate had dropped back down to where he didn’t feel like he was going to die. Soon after he was sure that his friend was calm enough, Tate got up and disappeared behind a door before returning shortly after. He grabbed Gio by the chin again, standing in front of him, and tipped his head upwards to look at him. While holding Gio’s chin, probably to keep his face still, he told him to close his eyes and gently wiped his cheeks, eyes, and nose with a cool washcloth. “Feel a little better?”
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“Yeah… I do.” It was probably the first thing Gio had said in hours. He leaned into Tate’s hand as it caressed his cheek, looking up at him through his swollen eyes. “I’m so tired.”
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“Have you slept at all?” Tate asked, only for Gio to shake his head in response. “You can sleep here, if you want.” In response to that, he nuzzled his face into Tate’s hand and closed his eyes again. “I’m sorry that… I’m sorry all of this happened, Gio.”
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He was quiet for several moments before he looked back up at Tate again. “No, this isn’t your fault. I’d probably be dead if Walter hadn’t been there. If Myla…” He heard the strain in his own voice as it caught in his throat. He drew a broken breath in through his nose, which he could hardly do because of how swollen his sinuses had become. “There’s lots of kids out there that don’t have part of their support systems now. The dojo was a safe place for a lot of people.”
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“When Isaiah wakes up the two of you can rebuild, together.” It was the way Tate said it. So full of hope, and absolute sureness. Like there wasn’t even a chance that he wouldn’t wake up. Something about that helped Gio, but he couldn’t explain it.
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“Yeah.” Gio let out a sigh, looking away again. Tate pushed the hood back off his head and buried his fingers into Gio’s soft curls, ruffling them before gently using his nails to scratch over Gio’s scalp. It sent a chill through his body, causing his shoulders to practically vibrate for a moment. “I just, I don’t get it. Maybe it was because the dojo was a safe haven, but why did it have to be them?”
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Tate took a step forward and pulled Gio’s face into his stomach, shifting his hand from the top of his head to the back. He continued to gently massage his scalp while Gio reached up to rest his own hands on Tate’s hips. “I don’t know, G, but I can promise you one thing. They’re gonna fucking pay.”
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And Gio knew that Tate meant it. He could hear it in his voice, the anger that was lying dormant. The hatred he held for Walter was more than just worrisome, it was scary. It made Gio nervous to even talk about the fact that, even if he blamed Walter for what happened, he knew that Walter had saved his life. Walter didn’t even take part, seemingly, in most of the attack on Isaiah. No one would know the full story until Isaiah woke up to tell them, though.
All of it made his stomach want to lurch. Isaiah was hurt so badly and Myla was just… gone. It almost made Gio feel guilty for being there with Tate. That feeling quickly melted away as Tate leaned down and kissed him. It stayed gone as he got Gio up and led him to his bedroom, telling him to lie down while he put the washcloth away and made some tea to help calm him so he could sleep. He’d spent so many nights sleeping on the floor with Tate, sleeping on the floor for Tate, that it almost felt like a dream whenever he finally crawled into the bed next to him and wrapped his arm around him. Gio wasn’t sure when exactly he drifted off to sleep, but it happened so quickly that the next thing he knew he was waking up to sunlight streaming in from the tiny bedroom window and casting pretty patterned shadows across Tate’s sleeping face.
Suddenly, in that very moment, he finally knew exactly how Isaiah had felt about Myla. How Walter had felt about Penelope. “Love does that to you.” What a mess it had made out of them all. But what a beautiful mess love can be. Whether it be long and grow old, or be bright and burn out quickly. Love is what drives many of us to continue pushing forward.
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