Fic: Hurt
Title: Hurt
Fandom: Megamind
Rating: M
Warning: attempted self-harm
Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.
Summary: The people of Metro City didn't know Metro Man.
Notes: Just in case you were unaware, Wayne Scott = Metro Man. It's like Superman fucked Batman and the baby got adopted by a wall covering. Only more epic.
Hurt
The people of Metro City had read seventy-six articles, two books, and thirty-five Metrarvel Comics one-shots about Metro Man by now. They had watched hundreds of news stories, three History Channel specials, two Mythbusters episodes, and, though few of them would have admitted it, twenty-two installations of the “Metro Dick: Balls of Steel” Skinemax series. A feature film was in production, a cartoon serial was being discussed, and every Halloween hundreds of miniature Metro Men roamed the city.
But none of them knew the darker side of their hero. It wasn't even a part of Metro Man-- it was something shameful and dirty, relegated to the part of his mind that was still called Wayne Scott. The people of Metro City had no idea, and that was because Metro Man did everything he could to hide it. How could they understand? They spoke in awe of incredible wealth, impossible good looks, invulnerability, charm, but the thing Wayne longed for in the silent corners of the darkest nights was forever out of his reach, and inescapably within theirs.
Wayne Scott wanted to get hurt.
***
For as long as he could remember, Wayne had wondered what it felt like to hurt. As a child, he never understood why his classmates started bawling for silly things like falling out of a tree, or getting hit in dodgeball. He was fascinated by the intensity he saw, the tears, the whimpers, the blood. Wayne started wondering if he had blood the day Suzie split her knee open on the playground in kindergarten.
The first time the doctor came to school to give flu shots, Wayne was excited to see the tiny trickle of blood run down Timmy's arm before the nurse caught it with the gauze. He moved forward in line, each step bringing him closer to finally knowing. The nurse swabbed his arm with alcohol. Wayne took a deep breath, staring at his arm, and watched as the needle bent uselessly back from his skin. Thirty minutes, seventeen needles, and one call to the county health commissioner later, and Wayne barely noticed bumping into that blue-skinned kid hard enough to knock him down as he walked back to his seat, skin unbroken.
***
Wayne started taking more risks after that-- tumbling off of the roof, barely moving during dodgeball, anything just to feel pain or to bleed like a normal kid.
He was fourteen when he took matters into his own hands and stole his father's straight razor. Sitting alone on his bed, with a towel ready to staunch the blood and the cordless phone next to him in case he needed to call for help, Wayne tried to steady his shaking fingers as he made the first experimental line on his arm.
Nothing.
Pressing harder, he tried again.
Still nothing.
Growing frustrated, Wayne began sawing furiously at his arm, using more and more of his strength. He snapped out of his daze when the blade bent like paper. He still wasn't hurt.
***
When he was seventeen, after an incident with his first and only girlfriend involving a dislocated hip, a trip to the emergency room, and a police report, Wayne lay in bed. He'd gone to bed early after a shouted lecture from Lord Scott had left him on the verge of tears, stonily ignoring his mother's, “Good night, darling. Sleep well.” But once he got into bed, Wayne found he couldn't sleep. He lay there instead, turning the realization that he could never have a girlfriend over and over in his mind, remembering the harsh words his father spat at him.
Eventually, feeling reckless and almost dizzy, Wayne snuck out of his house and flew through the cool night air. He landed after a while and walked through downtown Metro City, feeling disgusted with himself. Where'd he even get the idea he could have a girlfriend? He'd never be that normal. Now his parents were footing a hospital bill, his father was probably going to kick him out, and he'd probably never be able to see Natalie again, all because he couldn't get that one simple truth through his skull.
Not paying attention to where he was going, Wayne looked up in surprise as a gruff voice barked, “Flat against the wall, kid!” Next thing he knew, his cheek was against the cold wall of a dirty alley, and a gun was against the side of his head. Confused, he began to turn around, heedless of his assailant's attempts to stop him.
“Stop!” the man shouted. “I swear, I'll shoot you!” Wayne ignored the warning, and turned to look at the criminal. He got a vague impression of stale breath and stubble at the same instant that a shot half-deafened him.
Wayne stood perfectly still, staring in shock at the body that lay at his feet, blood leaking out to stain the dirty brown coat, eyes staring blankly at the sky. He stayed there as the sirens began wailing a few blocks away, as the police began appearing at either end of the alley.
Wayne began trembling as a cop asked him if he was hurt, blinking back tears as he shook his head violently. Truth wasn't the only thing that couldn't get through his skull-- there wasn't so much as a bruise on him, and the blood covering his pajamas was, of course, not his own-- Wayne was beginning to seriously wonder if he even had blood. The Scotts' chauffeur, Adam, showed up forty minutes later to take Wayne back home, and to deliver the message that Lord Scott would be there tomorrow to get a full report. Wayne sniffled quietly, shivering on the towels he sat on to protect the Maserati's interior, all the way home.
***
The day Megamind appeared brought a new thing for Wayne to feel ashamed of. Somewhere in the middle of their fight, between shots of banter and cheesy poses, Wayne found himself pinning his enemy against a wall. He'd just meant to hold him there for a second, give himself a second to plan his next move, find a way to draw this battle out longer because, though he wouldn't admit it, he'd been depressed and despairing since Lord Scott made him leave the manor, and this... this made him feel useful and alive again. However, those plans vanished from Wayne's mind when Megamind let out an undignified squawk. “My leg my leg my leg does not bend in that direction!”
Wayne looked down, confused, and saw that the way his leg pinned Megamind's against the wall was indeed straining the blue alien's knee beyond its limit. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled. He let up a bit and looked back up at Megamind, ready to say something or other about justice, but it died on his lips when he saw the thin line of blood making its way down from a cut on Megamind's head. The bright red contrasted sharply with the blue skin, and Wayne couldn't stop staring.
“Um...?” Megamind asked, growing uncomfortable.
Wayne blinked, shook his head, and flew into the air, descending a moment later to deposit the villain in the yard of the prison. Five minutes later, he was flying away, trying to think of anything but that blood.
He wondered jealously if Megamind knew how lucky he was.
***
When Megamind's “death ray” hit the observatory, Wayne bent his head to feel the back of his neck, startled by an odd twinge he'd never felt before. Then he lifted his head and smiled radiantly.
He had a blister.
Fandom: Megamind
Rating: M
Warning: attempted self-harm
Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.
Summary: The people of Metro City didn't know Metro Man.
Notes: Just in case you were unaware, Wayne Scott = Metro Man. It's like Superman fucked Batman and the baby got adopted by a wall covering. Only more epic.
Hurt
The people of Metro City had read seventy-six articles, two books, and thirty-five Metrarvel Comics one-shots about Metro Man by now. They had watched hundreds of news stories, three History Channel specials, two Mythbusters episodes, and, though few of them would have admitted it, twenty-two installations of the “Metro Dick: Balls of Steel” Skinemax series. A feature film was in production, a cartoon serial was being discussed, and every Halloween hundreds of miniature Metro Men roamed the city.
But none of them knew the darker side of their hero. It wasn't even a part of Metro Man-- it was something shameful and dirty, relegated to the part of his mind that was still called Wayne Scott. The people of Metro City had no idea, and that was because Metro Man did everything he could to hide it. How could they understand? They spoke in awe of incredible wealth, impossible good looks, invulnerability, charm, but the thing Wayne longed for in the silent corners of the darkest nights was forever out of his reach, and inescapably within theirs.
Wayne Scott wanted to get hurt.
***
For as long as he could remember, Wayne had wondered what it felt like to hurt. As a child, he never understood why his classmates started bawling for silly things like falling out of a tree, or getting hit in dodgeball. He was fascinated by the intensity he saw, the tears, the whimpers, the blood. Wayne started wondering if he had blood the day Suzie split her knee open on the playground in kindergarten.
The first time the doctor came to school to give flu shots, Wayne was excited to see the tiny trickle of blood run down Timmy's arm before the nurse caught it with the gauze. He moved forward in line, each step bringing him closer to finally knowing. The nurse swabbed his arm with alcohol. Wayne took a deep breath, staring at his arm, and watched as the needle bent uselessly back from his skin. Thirty minutes, seventeen needles, and one call to the county health commissioner later, and Wayne barely noticed bumping into that blue-skinned kid hard enough to knock him down as he walked back to his seat, skin unbroken.
***
Wayne started taking more risks after that-- tumbling off of the roof, barely moving during dodgeball, anything just to feel pain or to bleed like a normal kid.
He was fourteen when he took matters into his own hands and stole his father's straight razor. Sitting alone on his bed, with a towel ready to staunch the blood and the cordless phone next to him in case he needed to call for help, Wayne tried to steady his shaking fingers as he made the first experimental line on his arm.
Nothing.
Pressing harder, he tried again.
Still nothing.
Growing frustrated, Wayne began sawing furiously at his arm, using more and more of his strength. He snapped out of his daze when the blade bent like paper. He still wasn't hurt.
***
When he was seventeen, after an incident with his first and only girlfriend involving a dislocated hip, a trip to the emergency room, and a police report, Wayne lay in bed. He'd gone to bed early after a shouted lecture from Lord Scott had left him on the verge of tears, stonily ignoring his mother's, “Good night, darling. Sleep well.” But once he got into bed, Wayne found he couldn't sleep. He lay there instead, turning the realization that he could never have a girlfriend over and over in his mind, remembering the harsh words his father spat at him.
Eventually, feeling reckless and almost dizzy, Wayne snuck out of his house and flew through the cool night air. He landed after a while and walked through downtown Metro City, feeling disgusted with himself. Where'd he even get the idea he could have a girlfriend? He'd never be that normal. Now his parents were footing a hospital bill, his father was probably going to kick him out, and he'd probably never be able to see Natalie again, all because he couldn't get that one simple truth through his skull.
Not paying attention to where he was going, Wayne looked up in surprise as a gruff voice barked, “Flat against the wall, kid!” Next thing he knew, his cheek was against the cold wall of a dirty alley, and a gun was against the side of his head. Confused, he began to turn around, heedless of his assailant's attempts to stop him.
“Stop!” the man shouted. “I swear, I'll shoot you!” Wayne ignored the warning, and turned to look at the criminal. He got a vague impression of stale breath and stubble at the same instant that a shot half-deafened him.
Wayne stood perfectly still, staring in shock at the body that lay at his feet, blood leaking out to stain the dirty brown coat, eyes staring blankly at the sky. He stayed there as the sirens began wailing a few blocks away, as the police began appearing at either end of the alley.
Wayne began trembling as a cop asked him if he was hurt, blinking back tears as he shook his head violently. Truth wasn't the only thing that couldn't get through his skull-- there wasn't so much as a bruise on him, and the blood covering his pajamas was, of course, not his own-- Wayne was beginning to seriously wonder if he even had blood. The Scotts' chauffeur, Adam, showed up forty minutes later to take Wayne back home, and to deliver the message that Lord Scott would be there tomorrow to get a full report. Wayne sniffled quietly, shivering on the towels he sat on to protect the Maserati's interior, all the way home.
***
The day Megamind appeared brought a new thing for Wayne to feel ashamed of. Somewhere in the middle of their fight, between shots of banter and cheesy poses, Wayne found himself pinning his enemy against a wall. He'd just meant to hold him there for a second, give himself a second to plan his next move, find a way to draw this battle out longer because, though he wouldn't admit it, he'd been depressed and despairing since Lord Scott made him leave the manor, and this... this made him feel useful and alive again. However, those plans vanished from Wayne's mind when Megamind let out an undignified squawk. “My leg my leg my leg does not bend in that direction!”
Wayne looked down, confused, and saw that the way his leg pinned Megamind's against the wall was indeed straining the blue alien's knee beyond its limit. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled. He let up a bit and looked back up at Megamind, ready to say something or other about justice, but it died on his lips when he saw the thin line of blood making its way down from a cut on Megamind's head. The bright red contrasted sharply with the blue skin, and Wayne couldn't stop staring.
“Um...?” Megamind asked, growing uncomfortable.
Wayne blinked, shook his head, and flew into the air, descending a moment later to deposit the villain in the yard of the prison. Five minutes later, he was flying away, trying to think of anything but that blood.
He wondered jealously if Megamind knew how lucky he was.
***
When Megamind's “death ray” hit the observatory, Wayne bent his head to feel the back of his neck, startled by an odd twinge he'd never felt before. Then he lifted his head and smiled radiantly.
He had a blister.