Event #3 "(Un)scatched reunion"
Jul 31, 2018 16:35:50 GMT
Post by Alexander Attiyah on Jul 31, 2018 16:35:50 GMT
Al continued to cough as Misha attended to the principal, clutching at his stomach automatically while also attempting to keep himself balanced and upright. Damn throat, he thought as it scratched and burned with every exhale, his body shaking from the added strain. However it soon became apparent that while he had moments to breathe in between each coughing fit before, the attacks were no longer letting up. In fact, the more seconds that passed by, the worse and more intense the fits became. And soon, he found his fears rising and panic overcoming him once again as an extremely painful cough caused him to double over and nearly fall to the floor if it wasn't for Misha's arm stopping him.
Something is seriously wrong, he thought as he clutched at his stomach, his face contorted in pain. Oh god! He could feel a very sharp, burning sensation in his gut, like someone had taken a knife and was twisting it around inside his stomach. And he was so caught up in the agonizing pain and coughing fits that he wasn't even aware his nose was dripping blood. All he knew was that he couldn't breathe again as the painful sensation started to rise up towards his throat like something was stuck inside of it, and he couldn't stop the thought of him dying from crossing his mind for the second time in only a few minutes time-span while his body immediately tried to dispose of whatever bile was blocking his airways the best it could.
Shaking violently as his limbs threatened to give away from the pressure, Al eventually felt whatever mass it was exit his throat and spill out onto the tile flooring, seemingly depleting what little energy he had left along with it as he immediately gasped for air. He could taste the blood that had filled his mouth as well as whatever vile substance he had vomited out that still remained, and continuing to cough and sputter as he leaned out over the tile, he could vaguely feel his body being held in place as he retched.
However he was unable to fully comprehend his surroundings as he continued to spit out blood and fluids in between gasps of air, his hand gripping the floor now turning white from the effort of keeping himself from falling. Though after a moment he realized it was Misha holding onto him from his other side, her added support being the only thing keeping him from slumping onto the floor altogether. But while his stomach no longer had that burning sensation, the damage had already been done as he continued gasping and wheezing, finally noticing the trickle of liquid dripping down his face as the adrenaline wore off.
What is-, he inwardly asked himself, raising his free hand towards his nose. Upon pulling it away, his thoughts immediately stopped as he realized it was blood on his fingers, and his eyes widened slightly out of both confusion and surprise. Shit! He wiped as much of it away as he could before he felt Misha shift closer towards him, her hand coming up to wipe gently across his face as well.
The tender gesture made him slowly shift his brown eyes to gaze into her face, silently noting her expression that mirrored his own fears as she worked. And when their eyes met, he honestly didn't know what to say - even if he could; he had never felt as vulnerable as he did at that moment, especially around her. And knowing the circumstances, he wasn't sure how he felt about that...
So instead he allowed her to pull him in close, relying on her strength instead as he let out a shaky breath while struggling to breathe. Everything hurt like hell; he wasn't even sure there was a part of him that didn't hurt. He could barely even register her shifting beneath him as his best friend moved to pick up the phone he had chucked earlier - nor could he hear the notification of a new text incoming. Only until she had set it slowly back down onto his lap did he realize she had it, and the added weight caused him to glance up at her in slight surprise.
Where Misha's face had an expression of fear before, all Al could see now was a furious yet determined look on her. It was an expression he had rarely seen at this level of intensity but even despite his hazy thoughts, he still knew exactly what it meant. And as he gripped his phone in his free hand, he swallowed hard and remained quiet as she began moving him around so he was now facing Miss T, setting his now crimson jacket on the principal's wound again.
"Try to apply some pressure," she instructed as she gently moved her hand away from his arm, his own moving to comply in holding the fabric in place. "I'll be right back." She looked like she had a lot more she wanted to say--to which the ravenhaired wasn't exactly surprised by--but there wasn't time to talk now. And so he merely watched as she got up and lectured Ryan before exiting the room.
Now it was just him and the others: one of whom he was currently doing his best to use his weak body to pressurize her wound on. And as he stared into the dark in front of him, Al felt so out of it; his head was spinning, his mouth still burned and tasted like vomit and blood, and while he was gradually doing a little better at breathing now, his muscles still ached and shook occasionally to the point he wasn't sure he could move very much anyway let alone be of much help in holding the principal's blood flow back... least not without help. He felt useless, even more so than he did back in the lab. But he didn't regret his decision either.
Holding up his phone with his free hand, he turned the screen on and unlocked his phone, his eyes resting on the message he had received in response. As he read it, his brow furrowed and he immediately darkened the screen again, coughing a little under his breath as he did so. It wasn't worth reading anyway; he wasn't going to let some asshole define him. And so instead he slipped the device back into his pocket and turned his attention towards the wound in front of him, adding as much pressure as he could in his weak state.
Focusing intently on the one thing he felt he could do, Al wasn't even aware when Misha eventually rushed back into the room until he saw her flash of copper hair cross his vision as she knelt down beside him. And as he felt his body being gently nudged out of the way to give her enough space to attend to Miss T, he shifted his body over the best he could and leaned on a nearby chair to focus on breathing instead. Though it took him a few seconds to recognize the piece of cloth she was extending out towards him from the corner of his eye due to how hazy and out of it his mind was.
"Thanks," he tried to say though it came out more as a scratchy breath of air. He weakly accepted her offer with a small smile, and bringing it up towards his face, he began to wipe the rest of the blood that had dripped from his nose while she worked. Despite the fact she had frozen up a little before, Misha was essentially a powerhouse of determination now, and though he still felt a little out of it and most of his attention kept getting diverted to keeping his lungs from trying to kill him, he was honestly impressed by his best friend's composure and efforts as she finished bandaging and cleaning up their principal's wounds. Though when she suddenly turned towards him, he felt his body freeze up slightly as if to brace himself for a lecture.
"You and I will have to talk later," she said as she shot him a warning look, the ravenhaired's eyes never wavering from her face. "For now, try to take it easy, okay?"
"What? Worried I'm gonna go run a marathon?" he tried to tease back, only to wind up coughing again right afterwards. She moved in a little closer in response and he scowled a little in annoyed frustration - though mostly at the ill-timing of his show of weakness rather than anything else. Honestly, he was feeling pretty desperate to act and feel more like himself again--just to feel like he had at least some control over the situation. And while the sound of his cough currently was a good sign that his breathing was doing slightly better, he had a long way to go before he could honestly say he was okay.
However as he finally got around to breathing somewhat clearer again, he glanced back over at Misha's copper eyes, giving her a small, though somewhat weak nod in response to both questions. "Okay," he whispered in a hoarse voice, his brown eyes conveying his reluctance. He didn't like sitting around, as much as he knew his body needed it... and he didn't wanna know exactly what she wanted to talk to him about, either - whether it was to yell at him for almost dying twice in a row or because of the text he had gotten or... something else, he wouldn't know until later.
But that was a conversation for someplace more private anyway, and he was smart enough to know that it was better for him to rest. Especially if it would help her feel more comfortable too. And so for now, he allowed her to look around while she remained close by his side, the ravenhaired silently appreciating the subtle, warm gesture of her support.
Thanks, Misha, he whispered inwardly as the hint of a small and sincere smile formed on his lips. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, his expression softening a little. He didn't really know where he would be without her there... Probably dead, he inwardly joked as he discreetly rolled his eyes in a self-deprecating manner. Of course, being stuck in this school with all the crazy shit going on was definitely something he would have hoped she wouldn't have to deal with, and that she would be far away and safe instead - especially with the amount of danger they were gradually realizing they were in.
But just her presence alone--even while she was angry at him--was a level of comfort he couldn't really describe in words... It was very warm and familiar and soothing... an emotion that stuck out stark against his fears and the chilling atmosphere of the room and their situation. And as it spread throughout the entirety of his scarred frame, he found himself clinging onto the feeling in earnest while he tried to regain whatever energy he could back - albeit, still feeling somewhat bitter for being stuck in the position he was in as well as the person or entity that was causing it.