Sketching 20/1/22

 

Smily Clutch

The different affects of the 'Decay' Drug in our current Ao3 fiction. Clutch only just injected, suffering with fever (leaves him with seizures) and Beat has later stages where he has to take pills to starve it off. It gives him vivid nightmares, fever, chills and makes him over sensitive to touch.

(Honestly I wanted to doodle Clutch with his curls out. 🤣)

Edit: not related to the fiction on Ao3 but damn... the booster from yesterday is really putting my muscles through the ringer. I can only begin to feel how these guys did in the fiction.... maybe a random bit of writing might be in order?

***

Clutch’s chest heavied. His entire body felt as if a horse had been allowed to trample all over it, the pain was that intense. He groaned and clutched his left side where his heart was and felt not just a stab, but a severe bloom of agony through his torso.

It wasn’t a great way to wake up.

Beat stirred when he heard the loud yelp, sitting up quickly to be greeted by his partner curled up in a ball.

"Michael, what's wrong?" He said worried, leaning in to check Clutch over.

"Chest...heart... everything..." he gasped out as another wave of muscle spasms tightened thier grip. 

"Sezuire?"

There was a slight nod before another loud yelp.

Beat swiftly took action, removing the pillow and the bed sheets and forced Clutch to uncurl himself before the big one hit. With how violent this one was he was relieved Clutch was already lying down on the bed as if he dropped on the floor from this one his head would have been bleeding from repeatedly hitting against the wooden slats.

Beat had to stay calm. It was hard not to panic and be terrified of them but he found out the only reason they were getting as bad as they were was because an unfortunate small amount of Decay was still affecting his system but not enough for him to be given the drugs for it. Epilepsy medication only did so much though, it stopped the minor ones but had no affect on stuff as bad as this. All you could do was hope it was short and he hadn't had a heart attack in the process.

Clutch hated them. He had been forced to live his life around them and it was absolutely hell. The feeling of being a burden to other people after a really bad one had knocked him around for several days was taking it's toll, despite everyone saying that it wasn’t.  He could see it in their expressions and how they acted around him, forcing him to withdraw from several activites he enjoyed with his friends. 

Beat could see how much it took not to show it all hurt him. He wasn’t good at hiding how he felt and he was increasingly finding it hard to deal with the bouts loneliness that came with it.

Beat remembered what happens to himself when he stops taking the purple pills to keep his own issues with Decay at bay. He was recovering rather well thanks to Clutch’s efforts to find him a proper rehabilitation center and better access to medication that wasn’t illegal he wondered why he hadn't tried to get proper help with it all sooner.

That's why as the sezuire passed, he checked his partners pulse and his breathing before replacing the pillow and the sheets once he was satisfied Clutch hadn’t died from something he couldn’t control. There had to be something he could do to get him help, not just wait for him to accidentally kick the bucket.

"We'll figure this out." He whispered softly, brushing a hand against Clutch’s forehead. "There's got to be something...anything we can do to make this... this stop happening. I promise you."

He wrapped his arms around him and held him close. "Don't give up Michael. Please don't give up. Hang in there."