For canon_muses
8C: "Pain is your friend, your ally it will tell you when you are seriously injured. It will keep you awake and angry and remind you to finish the job and get the hell home. But you know the best thing about pain? .... it lets you know you're not dead yet." Viggo Mortensen (Master Chief John Urgayle) in G.I. Jane
There’s a shortness of breath that’s been lacking in Lucas’ lungs since the age of seven and he ran all the way home, it feels like his heart’s contracting and expanding all at the same time.
The pills are gone, swallowed down with the last desperate drop of water and he feels like his entire chest cavity’s folding in on itself, not even the solid grip his fingers have on his t-shirt seems to be doing anything for the pain.
His head’s spinning and Lucas is trying to coach himself to breathe, work through it, and find his way out of the dark. He can’t call for anyone because nobody’s supposed to know and he’ll get through this alone because he chose to lie about it and he chose to keep it a secret. Lucas won’t allow something like this to ruin everything he’s worked so hard for.
Jesus Christ.
The world just dips and spins and Lucas isn’t even aware he’s hit the ground until he tastes carpet in his mouth. His fingers tighten and he’s trying to will his chest to inhale and exhale the same way it’s always done, like it did before he knew he had this disease.
There’s a rapid inconsistent beat of a struggling organ inside a body seemingly rejecting it and everything it stands for. Lucas can feel every intermittent pulse and static pause. They never last long enough for Lucas to think he could quite possibly be having a heart attack, there’s always a rush of movement and then the world comes flying back into focus.
It’s enough to make his head spin all over again.
Breathe, he needs to breathe because his lungs are screaming and his blood’s not reaching everything it needs to and fuck, Lucas is scared. He knows panicking right now is the worst possible thing he could do but he can’t think or feel beyond this one moment of gripping and absolutely terrifying fear.
He would give anything to be able to call somebody but again he made his bed and he’s damn well going to lie in it, even if it kills him. Lucas eventually comes to rest on his back, one hand plastered against his chest and the other gripping at the carpet in a vain attempt at grounding himself.
Lucas isn’t even sure how long it takes for the pain to ease but even when it does it still feels like someone’s stabbed him in the heart several times over. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to think and it most especially hurts to feel his heart struggling to keep up with him.
God, this is so fucked up.
Lucas closes his eyes and tries to will it away, tries to make it better even though he knows the only things that can cost an arm and leg and he can’t afford them. His mother could but he doesn’t want her to know about this, doesn’t want anyone to know about this
Breathe, Lucas, breathe. If he can do that, he can beat this.
There’s too much to lose, too much he’s worked so hard for, he isn’t losing to this thing - to this stupid hereditary disease that Dan-fucking-Scott passed onto him. It’s the one thing his father did for him and it turns out to be something that can kill him, how’s that for irony?
If he can still feel pain, he’s alive, and if he’s still alive, he can fight this.
Muse: Lucas Eugene Scott
Fandom: One Tree Hill
Word Count: 580
There’s a shortness of breath that’s been lacking in Lucas’ lungs since the age of seven and he ran all the way home, it feels like his heart’s contracting and expanding all at the same time.
The pills are gone, swallowed down with the last desperate drop of water and he feels like his entire chest cavity’s folding in on itself, not even the solid grip his fingers have on his t-shirt seems to be doing anything for the pain.
His head’s spinning and Lucas is trying to coach himself to breathe, work through it, and find his way out of the dark. He can’t call for anyone because nobody’s supposed to know and he’ll get through this alone because he chose to lie about it and he chose to keep it a secret. Lucas won’t allow something like this to ruin everything he’s worked so hard for.
Jesus Christ.
The world just dips and spins and Lucas isn’t even aware he’s hit the ground until he tastes carpet in his mouth. His fingers tighten and he’s trying to will his chest to inhale and exhale the same way it’s always done, like it did before he knew he had this disease.
There’s a rapid inconsistent beat of a struggling organ inside a body seemingly rejecting it and everything it stands for. Lucas can feel every intermittent pulse and static pause. They never last long enough for Lucas to think he could quite possibly be having a heart attack, there’s always a rush of movement and then the world comes flying back into focus.
It’s enough to make his head spin all over again.
Breathe, he needs to breathe because his lungs are screaming and his blood’s not reaching everything it needs to and fuck, Lucas is scared. He knows panicking right now is the worst possible thing he could do but he can’t think or feel beyond this one moment of gripping and absolutely terrifying fear.
He would give anything to be able to call somebody but again he made his bed and he’s damn well going to lie in it, even if it kills him. Lucas eventually comes to rest on his back, one hand plastered against his chest and the other gripping at the carpet in a vain attempt at grounding himself.
Lucas isn’t even sure how long it takes for the pain to ease but even when it does it still feels like someone’s stabbed him in the heart several times over. It hurts to breathe, it hurts to think and it most especially hurts to feel his heart struggling to keep up with him.
God, this is so fucked up.
Lucas closes his eyes and tries to will it away, tries to make it better even though he knows the only things that can cost an arm and leg and he can’t afford them. His mother could but he doesn’t want her to know about this, doesn’t want anyone to know about this
Breathe, Lucas, breathe. If he can do that, he can beat this.
There’s too much to lose, too much he’s worked so hard for, he isn’t losing to this thing - to this stupid hereditary disease that Dan-fucking-Scott passed onto him. It’s the one thing his father did for him and it turns out to be something that can kill him, how’s that for irony?
If he can still feel pain, he’s alive, and if he’s still alive, he can fight this.
Muse: Lucas Eugene Scott
Fandom: One Tree Hill
Word Count: 580