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Girl help I feel myself once again becoming invested in the show I thought I stopped obsessing over in 2018
A Familiar Face
[Warnings: medical setting, coming out of sedation, IV mention]
Hero blinked, face contorting in a mix of confusion and discontent. Slowly, their surroundings came into view. A curtain, a small room cornered off by it, a figure by their feet. They laid on a bed lined with blue sheets with several white blankets layered over them. A nurse tapped quietly on a standing keyboard to their side.
They closed their eyes for another second, and when they opened them again the figure at their feet now loomed closer. It took a second, but Hero recognized the features peering down at them.
“Villain?!” They tried to exclaim, but it came out more as a cough. Their throat was dry and partially numb, making it difficult to form any subsequent words.
“What-“ they coughed again, falling into a short fit. The nurse laid a gentle hand on their arm, assuring them that that response was normal.
Momentarily distracted from their enemy’s presence in the room, Hero noticed their right arm feeling oddly cold. When they managed to untangle the limb from the sheets, an IV was revealed settled into the crook of their elbow.
Not that surprising, considering that it was there before they were put to sleep.
Hero gathered themselves, eventually able to ask weakly, “What are you doing here?”
“You asked me to drive you,” the villain replied, something disturbingly close to concern lurking behind their eyes as they gazed down at the formerly-sedated hero.
Hero narrowed their eyes suspiciously. They remembered signing in for the procedure, but they decidedly did not remember asking their nemesis to accompany them to the hospital.
“Yes, really. I can show you the paperwork if you want.”
Hero glanced to the nurse for help, but she too betrayed them with a confirmation.
Talk about being vulnerable, it didn’t get more trusting than asking your arch enemy to stay in the building while an anesthesiologist rendered you unconscious.
Hero didn’t have the energy to be concerned though, so they accepted the help of the rival that was shifting on their feet.
A change of clothes and a wheelchair ride later, Hero was settled into the front of the villain’s car, fully awake and ready to complain.
“I’m so hungry. Let’s stop at McDonald’s. I would die for some salty fries.”
“Sorry, you can’t eat yet,” Villain informed them apologetically.
Hero glanced at the clock and groaned.
“Some water, at least?” Hero begged.
“No on that too, I’m afraid.”
“What? So you just want me to starve?”
“Not me,” Villain replied easily, not bothering to take their eyes off the road to witness Hero’s grumbling, “Doctor’s orders.”
“So you let doctors do your dirty work now,” Hero huffed, crossing their arms over their chest.
They pointedly ignored the smile that spread across the criminal’s lips at their tantrum.
A long winded rant about dehydration followed.
When they were finally handed a water bottle an hour later, Villain had to snatch it right back out of their hands before they chugged it.
Don’t even get them started on the food an hour after that.
Limits (Don’t Forget to Take Your Meds)
Hero and Villain were fighting on top of a building, and—admittedly—Hero wasn’t doing so hot.
Their heart was beating too fast, and they wanted nothing more than to sink to their knees right there on the rooftop. They were breathing hard but it wasn’t enough, their heart kept picking up speed and the oxygen didn’t seem to be reaching their head.
They blocked clumsily and Villain stepped back, flicking his wrist in a circular motion in an attempt to show off.
The display was lost on Hero, however, because Villain’s sword was no longer the only thing on the roof that was spinning. Hastily, they caught themselves before almost stumbling.
They tried to keep it from showing on their face, but somewhere in the past few seconds they must have failed because Villain stopped and let his weapon arm fall to his side.
“Hero?” He questioned.
Hero pressed their lips together, too scared to open their mouth in fear of the nausea that was swimming over them. They blinked, and he was closer, hand coming up to press against the pulse point of their wrist.
He shook his head at the rapid pounding he felt beneath their skin.
“Did you take your meds today?”
If Hero didn’t know better, his question would almost seem to hold the same condescension of a parent scolding a child who obviously hadn’t taken the time to think through their actions before getting upset.
“Of course I- oh.”
Hero visibly deflated.
“You really need to set an alarm or something,” Villain scolded.
“I have one!” Hero spoke defensively, “It’s just…I woke up and my cat was yelling and I had to get up and feed her but I just felt so bad-”
“Go home, Hero.”
Hero fumbled, “Seriously? I can’t just-”
“Yes, you can,” Villain interrupted. “In fact, I won’t allow you to do anything else.”
“No, no it’s fine,” Hero tried to argue, “I can-“
Push through, they didn’t get to finish.
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. Surely you know this isn’t safe,” he leveled them with a look the hero wasn’t clear-headed enough to feel the full effect of.
His next statement was threatening, and Hero found themselves taken aback.
“Do you really want to flare?”
They couldn’t stop their lips from parting in surprise.
No one had ever understood like that, never told them they needed and were allowed to rest, aggressively or otherwise.
He made it sound so…simple.
Hero thought of the consequences of trying to fight Villain right now. There simply wasn’t enough ibuprofen in the world to make up for the symptoms that would follow. They really didn’t want to end up stuck in bed for days, not when there were plenty of less courteous villains that could decide to destroy the city at any time.
Their shoulders sagged in defeat. They knew what they needed to do but…
But it hurt, accepting their limits. They supposed that was their heroic pride talking, but part of them knew it was more than that.
It was shame, and it was anger. Anger that they were trapped in a body that couldn’t keep up with them. Shame because resting felt like giving up.
They followed the villain’s lead, laying down their weapon with shaking hands.
They were, as many people were, always told, “a real hero never gives up.”
A real hero, they thought now, knows how to pick their battles.
And they knew a fight with their body would never be one they could win.
Limits (Don’t Forget to Take Your Meds)
Hero and Villain were fighting on top of a building, and—admittedly—Hero wasn’t doing so hot.
Their heart was beating too fast, and they wanted nothing more than to sink to their knees right there on the rooftop. They were breathing hard but it wasn’t enough, their heart kept picking up speed and the oxygen didn’t seem to be reaching their head.
They blocked clumsily and Villain stepped back, flicking his wrist in a circular motion in an attempt to show off.
The display was lost on Hero, however, because Villain’s sword was no longer the only thing on the roof that was spinning. Hastily, they caught themselves before almost stumbling.
They tried to keep it from showing on their face, but somewhere in the past few seconds they must have failed because Villain stopped and let his weapon arm fall to his side.
“Hero?” He questioned.
Hero pressed their lips together, too scared to open their mouth in fear of the nausea that was swimming over them. They blinked, and he was closer, hand coming up to press against the pulse point of their wrist.
He shook his head at the rapid pounding he felt beneath their skin.
“Did you take your meds today?”
If Hero didn’t know better, his question would almost seem to hold the same condescension of a parent scolding a child who obviously hadn’t taken the time to think through their actions before getting upset.
“Of course I- oh.”
Hero visibly deflated.
“You really need to set an alarm or something,” Villain scolded.
“I have one!” Hero spoke defensively, “It’s just…I woke up and my cat was yelling and I had to get up and feed her but I just felt so bad-”
“Go home, Hero.”
Hero fumbled, “Seriously? I can’t just-”
“Yes, you can,” Villain interrupted. “In fact, I won’t allow you to do anything else.”
“No, no it’s fine,” Hero tried to argue, “I can-“
Push through, they didn’t get to finish.
“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. Surely you know this isn’t safe,” he leveled them with a look the hero wasn’t clear-headed enough to feel the full effect of.
His next statement was threatening, and Hero found themselves taken aback.
“Do you really want to flare?”
They couldn’t stop their lips from parting in surprise.
No one had ever understood like that, never told them they needed and were allowed to rest, aggressively or otherwise.
He made it sound so…simple.
Hero thought of the consequences of trying to fight Villain right now. There simply wasn’t enough ibuprofen in the world to make up for the symptoms that would follow. They really didn’t want to end up stuck in bed for days, not when there were plenty of less courteous villains that could decide to destroy the city at any time.
Their shoulders sagged in defeat. They knew what they needed to do but…
But it hurt, accepting their limits. They supposed that was their heroic pride talking, but part of them knew it was more than that.
It was shame, and it was anger. Anger that they were trapped in a body that couldn’t keep up with them. Shame because resting felt like giving up.
They followed the villain’s lead, laying down their weapon with shaking hands.
They were, as many people were, always told, “a real hero never gives up.”
A real hero, they thought now, knows how to pick their battles.
And they knew a fight with their body would never be one they could win.
Who gave me the audacity to just... care for stuff?
Like - I have people in my life who like me? Who I want to continue seeing, and who enjoy my company as well? And who I can offer compliments and words of support and encouragement to, and make cookies for, and all that? And be well received?
And there are projects? That I want to pursue, and granted I don't have a lick of time to pursue them all, but they're ambitions? that I can imagine making time for in the future, or maybe staying up late one night and simply diving in in spite of myself?
And these are things that exist? and that I can care for? and that can, to their own extent, acknowledge and care for me in turn?
I did not notice it, but somehow the stars began to shine again upon my life.