🛏

dark-blue-mondays:

syx-blue:

syx-blue:

Syx hadn’t slept the entire time he’d been behind bars, he just couldn’t. The dreams always haunted him. The solitary made him feel half mad. More than half mad really. He’d pulled a stupid stunt to get out.  More foolish than he should, but it worked. Anna and Minion would be eager to see him. So would Wayne. Yet he found himself outside of the towering building that Harrison lived in. The bags under his eyes were deep, a five-o-clock shadow on his jaw, his clothing too big and stolen. He’d used a brain bot to fly up to the roof of a nearby building. He didn’t even know what his plan was. He was just tired and wanted the thoughts to go away.

Right… he cursed himself, it would go both ways, wouldn’t it? If he could sense Harrison then Harrison could sense him. He wasn’t used to that idea. He pulled away, embarrassed by his actions, he tried to shrug it off. He found himself talking instead. 

“Have you ever been in solitary before? It’s considered cruel and unusual torture when used for extended periods of time. But no one cares when you’re a super villain. Besides it fine, I have a tv. That makes it ok,” he laughed bitterly, “I don’t get yard time. I don’t eat with my uncles. I don’t get to be in the same room as real people unless I’m being strapped down to a chair to get carted around,”  he rubbed his arms and looked away, “Normally I psyche myself up for it before Wayne takes me in… but I wasn’t prepared for this visit.”

Harrison gasped.  He had never been in solitary when he was a kid, the warden had declared it utterly off limits for a child.  His punishments included being grounded to his cell to sulk, but never anything more serious than that.  But for a species as emotionally attuned as they were, solitary confinement would certainly be a trauma.  No wonder he looked like shit.    

He shifted to nuzzle the front of Syx’s forehead with his own, adding soft kisses to his cheeks and nose.  “How long?” he finally asked, cupping Syx’s cheeks in his slender hands and looking into familiar green eyes.    

Syx let out a soft breath, soaking in the kisses, his arms wrapping around Harrison again, “Only three days this time.”

The longest he’d ever stayed in that horrible room was a week and a half because he’d been seriously injured. At least the room had the television. He’d earned a true solitary room a few times in the past. Lossing the tv was always the worst. It took away the only thing he had to keep himself out of his own head. Even that sometimes wasn’t enough. It hadn’t been this visit.