Fic: Soldiers of the Beat (pre-Travis/Matt)
Title: Soldiers of the Beat
Pairing: Pre-Travis/Matt
Note: For hc_bingo major illness. It was a struggle, but no one actually dies.
---
Travis' Sidekick blows up at the buttcrack of dawn.
(Well, no, it's actually 10:30, but it feels like the buttcrack of dawn considering he crawled into bed closer to 6. And Travis is a fan of the dramatic tension.)
It's a text from Matt's brother. All Travis reads is hospital again before he's off like a bolt.
He's halfway to the bus stop when his phone goes off again, this time from Manda, one of the nurses. Plz leave the boombox at home this time.
He shifts the boombox's handle to his left hand so he can text with his right thumb, too late :D
There are five different bus routes to the hospital from Trav's apartment, from the tattoo shop where he's apprenticing, from the row of clubs he usually goes to for shows and the places he goes for tunes and kicks. Travis knows them better than he knows his own hand, especially since he let Tony at his fingers with a tattoo gun.
The driver eyes his boombox wearily, but Trav puts on his best good boy innocent face. The bus is pretty dead, just a few people Travis has started to recognize are also destined for the hospital. There's the old man who gives him a once over and looks away like youth is a communicable disease, the pregnant girl with the asthmatic toddler Trav makes faces at, the high school kid who has to ditch school some days for dialysis.
Travis mosies off the bus as it empties out in front of the hospital doors. He takes the winding hallways to Manda's ward.
She's at the reception desk with a doctor. Trav hangs back by the doorway until the doctor heads down the hall, until he can catch Manda's eye.
She glares when she spots the boombox. "Travis--"
"I'll keep it down," he promises.
"I know you will, it's him I don't believe."
Travis grins. "Matty's a drummer. It's not music if you can't feel the beat."
"Teach him to feel the beat without getting the other patients to complain about the noise?"
"We'll talk. Where is he?"
"He's in room 3B, got him a nice view. His mom and brother just left."
"How's he doing?" Travis asks quietly.
"You know I can't say."
"Don't want the specifics."
Manda lays a hand on his arm. "He's tough. His immune system just needed a little back up."
Travis nods, takes a breath like he's steeling himself for battle, and saunters up to Matt's door. He doesn't have a roommate yet, just a view of the treetops in front of the hospital. It's more peaceful than the excellent composition of the landfill the windows on the even side of the ward get. Matt's asleep, but he usually is when he's back in here. He's always been more toward the scrawny side than Trav, but right now it looks like the hospital bed might swallow him whole. He's pale, with circles as dark as bruises under his eyes. There are so many tubes and wires attached to him that he looks like a scene out of a very bad scifi movie with a very low budget. His beanie's been knocked askew enough that the spots where his hair's started growing back as wispy and fragile as a baby's are visible, even though he normally keeps that shit covered.
His eyes flutter open all of a sudden. When he sets them on Trav he grins beatifically. "Hey, man." Travis is always surprised that his voice never sounds as frail as Travis never realizes he's expecting it to. "You came."
Just like that Travis' bravado builds right back up. "Course I came. You always forget the jams, man, and I'm not gonna let my boy lay around all day in silence."
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth. You can also comment there using OpenID.
comments there.
Pairing: Pre-Travis/Matt
Note: For hc_bingo major illness. It was a struggle, but no one actually dies.
---
Travis' Sidekick blows up at the buttcrack of dawn.
(Well, no, it's actually 10:30, but it feels like the buttcrack of dawn considering he crawled into bed closer to 6. And Travis is a fan of the dramatic tension.)
It's a text from Matt's brother. All Travis reads is hospital again before he's off like a bolt.
He's halfway to the bus stop when his phone goes off again, this time from Manda, one of the nurses. Plz leave the boombox at home this time.
He shifts the boombox's handle to his left hand so he can text with his right thumb, too late :D
There are five different bus routes to the hospital from Trav's apartment, from the tattoo shop where he's apprenticing, from the row of clubs he usually goes to for shows and the places he goes for tunes and kicks. Travis knows them better than he knows his own hand, especially since he let Tony at his fingers with a tattoo gun.
The driver eyes his boombox wearily, but Trav puts on his best good boy innocent face. The bus is pretty dead, just a few people Travis has started to recognize are also destined for the hospital. There's the old man who gives him a once over and looks away like youth is a communicable disease, the pregnant girl with the asthmatic toddler Trav makes faces at, the high school kid who has to ditch school some days for dialysis.
Travis mosies off the bus as it empties out in front of the hospital doors. He takes the winding hallways to Manda's ward.
She's at the reception desk with a doctor. Trav hangs back by the doorway until the doctor heads down the hall, until he can catch Manda's eye.
She glares when she spots the boombox. "Travis--"
"I'll keep it down," he promises.
"I know you will, it's him I don't believe."
Travis grins. "Matty's a drummer. It's not music if you can't feel the beat."
"Teach him to feel the beat without getting the other patients to complain about the noise?"
"We'll talk. Where is he?"
"He's in room 3B, got him a nice view. His mom and brother just left."
"How's he doing?" Travis asks quietly.
"You know I can't say."
"Don't want the specifics."
Manda lays a hand on his arm. "He's tough. His immune system just needed a little back up."
Travis nods, takes a breath like he's steeling himself for battle, and saunters up to Matt's door. He doesn't have a roommate yet, just a view of the treetops in front of the hospital. It's more peaceful than the excellent composition of the landfill the windows on the even side of the ward get. Matt's asleep, but he usually is when he's back in here. He's always been more toward the scrawny side than Trav, but right now it looks like the hospital bed might swallow him whole. He's pale, with circles as dark as bruises under his eyes. There are so many tubes and wires attached to him that he looks like a scene out of a very bad scifi movie with a very low budget. His beanie's been knocked askew enough that the spots where his hair's started growing back as wispy and fragile as a baby's are visible, even though he normally keeps that shit covered.
His eyes flutter open all of a sudden. When he sets them on Trav he grins beatifically. "Hey, man." Travis is always surprised that his voice never sounds as frail as Travis never realizes he's expecting it to. "You came."
Just like that Travis' bravado builds right back up. "Course I came. You always forget the jams, man, and I'm not gonna let my boy lay around all day in silence."
This entry was originally posted at Dreamwidth. You can also comment there using OpenID.
comments there.