The Head In My Hands

The room is freezing when Marley stirred awake, the dull ache already throbbing in his bones, not unfamiliar– but never welcome. He shifted slightly under the covers, swallowing back a grunt and hoping the movement would ease the discomfort.

Yet, after minutes, it didn’t. Instead, the ever present pain grew sharper, starting at his tailbone and curling up his spine like vines and wrapping around his shoulders before waving back down to tense and strain at his legs.

His breath hitched as the sensation intensified, spreading like fire beneath his skin. How unfortunate, a night like this, to come every time he finally got his feet back under him.

Marley lay still for a moment, eyes shut tight, trying to will it away. Maybe, if he just lay there long enough, the pain would ebb—like it had on better days. He focused on his breathing, slow and steady, counting each inhale and exhale as if it might distract him. But the sharp twinges in his joints were relentless, growing stronger with each passing minute.

He curled up on his side, pulling the blanket tighter around him, trying to bury himself in its warmth. But warmth couldn’t dull the sharpness that cut deeper into his muscles. His jaw clenched as he shifted again, a futile attempt to find a position that didn’t hurt. Why now? He asked. Why, when he had been nothing but careful for days–?

Of course, there was no answer.

This was different. This night, it was like a weight pressing down on him, unyielding and merciless. The heaviness in his chest grew with each pulse of pain, and after what felt like an eternity, Marley knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer.

His body wouldn’t cooperate. Every movement felt like a battle, the sheets clinging to him like lead, but he forced himself to sit up, grimacing as the sudden shift sent a wave of sharp pain shooting down his spine.

It wasn’t going away.

With a shaky breath, Marley reached for his brick on the bedside table. His fingers fumbled as another jolt of pain shot through his hand, making the simple task feel impossible. But after a few deep breaths, he managed to unlock the screen, blinking at the brightness in the otherwise dark room.

It was 2:14 a.m. Of course, no time for an episode like early morning.

For a moment, he just stared at the screen, debating whether or not to reach out. He hated waking people up—hated feeling like a burden—but the idea of sitting with the pain alone felt unbearable tonight. After a few moments of hesitation, he scrolled through his contacts and opened a message thread with Khairi.

hey, sorry it’s late. earrly? pain's bad tonight. don’t have to respond, jus needed to tell someon

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, not bothering to check his spelling and capitalization.. The screen dimmed as he lay back down, staring up at the ceiling, the glow of his phone resting beside him. His chest burned, swirling and swelling.

He didn’t expect a reply right away—Khairi was likely asleep—but to his surprise, his phone buzzed a few minutes later, the vibration cutting through the quiet of the room.

yo, I’m awake. u ok? want me to call?

Marley exhaled a small breath of relief.

nah, it’s ok. just hurting. as usual.

– sucks, man. wish I could punch it out of you lol.

pls do, feel free.

– seriously tho. you need anything?

just needed to not be alone with it.

He swallowed back a wave of nausea, his head spinning. He put his phone back down on the nightstand– or, tried rather, missing entirely and wincing as it clattered to the floor.

He heard the brick buzz against the ground as Khairi responded.

Another wave of pain rolled through his body, and he groaned, resisting the urge to curl around himself further. He sat up slowly, the effort sending sharp aches radiating from his lower back up to his neck. Every inch of him felt like it was on fire, muscles and joints stiff and screaming. His mouth was dry, stomach rolling with nausea despite knowing he wasn’t really sick.

Pushing his blanket off, Marley swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting there for a moment with his eyes shut tight. He took a few breaths, willing the dizziness to fade, but it only worsened. His limbs were weak, shaky, and as much as he wanted to ignore it, his body refused.

He forced himself to stand, though his legs wobbled beneath him, and stumbled his way toward the bathroom, using the wall as a crutch. The world spun violently around him, and by the time he reached the toilet, he dropped to his knees, the pain spiking through them at the hard brush to the tile nothing compared to the streaks of pain all throughout. His chest heaved as he hovered over the bowl, hands braced against the cold porcelain.

His head throbbed, and for a moment, he thought he might actually be sick. It wasn’t just the pain this time; it was everything. His skin tingled like it had been set on fire, and every beat of his heart sent jolts of agony through his chest.

It was too much. Everything was too much.

But as much as his body cried out, nothing happened. He wasn't actually sick. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to breathe through it, but each breath felt like it dragged glass through his lungs

Kneeling on the bathroom floor, Marley’s thoughts drifted, smokey and vague with no real bite, tangled in the familiar spiral of pain and frustration. It was a bad night—he knew the options, but everything felt distant, like he was trying to grasp at shadows.

ER visits that led to blank stares from witches who knew what was wrong but didn’t know enough… the same tired suggestions, the inevitable shrug as they sent him home with nothing but disappointment.

He considered the prescription medication waiting in the cabinet above the sink. It wouldn’t help, not tonight. It never did. The pills dulled the edge sometimes, and the potions made the pain just bearable enough to function, but on nights like this? Nothing worked. Nothing ever worked.

His chest tightened, and he swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. The pain felt like it was clawing its way up through him, curling in his stomach, pressing on his lungs, squeezing his heart… Everything was a slow, hazy throb.

His vision blurred for a second, and he blinked hard, trying to stay grounded, but the helplessness crept in, soft and suffocating.

What’s the point?

The question nagged at the back of his mind, bitter and exhausted, like a weight he couldn’t shake. Every method, every treatment, every medication—none of it ever fixed anything. Trapped in his own body… a prisoner to this unrelenting ache.

He tried to push it down. It was suffocating—like his heart was lodged in his throat, choking him from the inside.

Miserable didn’t even begin to cover it.

Marley’s bleary eyes caught a flicker of movement, and a wave of dread washed over him. He had woken Emrys. The man stepped into the bathroom, still half-asleep, concern etched into his features as he took in the scene before him. Marley wished he could push him away, to send him back to the comfort of their shared bed, but his body felt heavy and weak.

“Marley?” Emrys murmured, voice thick with sleep. He was kneeling beside him in an instant, brow furrowed as he assessed the situation. Marley opened his mouth to tell him he was fine, to urge him to go back, but the words caught in his throat like they were tangled in fog.

“‘Mrys–,” he attempted, the words slipping out in a jumbled mess, shaky and slurred. “..back t’ bed–” He hated that he sounded so pathetic.

Emrys’s gaze sharpened with concern, kneeling down to where Malrey was curled over the porcelain, his hand brushing against Marley’s back, warm and steady. “No– it's not a big deal Marls, You’re more important,” he replied softly, his voice low but firm. “What’s going on?”

Marley wanted to argue, to shove the weight of his pain away, but all he could manage was a feeble shake of his head. The pain swirled in his gut, heavy and suffocating, rendering him nearly mute.

He swallowed again, despite nothing coming up, his mouth tastes of bile and cotton. “..h-urts..”

Emrys frowns, Marley can just barely make out the downturned curl of his lips. “Bad night? You should’ve come and got me.”

Marley waves a hand haphazardly– as if to say ‘whatever’-- and immediately regrets it, the movement shooting another wave of vertigo through him, nausea blurring his vision further.

“Hey, take it easy,” Emrys urged, his voice softening as he noticed Marley’s reaction. “I’m right here. Just breathe.”

Marley tried to focus on Emrys’s face, the way his eyes held a steady warmth that contrasted with the chill of his own body. “D–didn’t wan wake you,” he stammered, each word feeling like a monumental effort. “You… -need sleep.”

“Not as much as you need me,” Emrys replied, his tone gentle yet unwavering. He shifted closer, positioning himself to better support Marley. “Tell me what hurts. Can I get you anything?”

“J-just… stay,” Marley managed to say, his voice a rasp. “Don’t g–.”

Emrys nodded, his expression soft. “I won’t. I promise. Just lean on me, alright? I got you.”

Marley felt the warmth of Emrys’s presence, the way he radiated comfort and strength. “don’t wan be a burden,” he mumbled, ashamed of how vulnerable he felt.

“Marley,” Emrys said firmly. “You’re never a burden, why would you think that?”

He didn’t know how to respond to that, didn’t know if he could. Pain shot up his spine and curled a skeletal hand around his throat.

As the waves of pain crashed over him, Marley’s thoughts began to spiral, blurring the edges of his reality. He tried to focus on Emrys, but his mind kept slipping, like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. The way Emrys looked at him—those concerned eyes filled with something deeper—began to unfurl in his mind, battling against the nausea and the ache that clawed at his insides.

Oh.

He forced himself to focus on Emrys' expression.

Oh no.

Oh God. They were right. He doesn’t know how the thought latches onto him, how it breaks through the smog, Emma and Khairi's words echoing in his mind: “What if he likes you back?” It was a fleeting thought, more felt than articulated, swimming through the haze of his discomfort.

No— nonono–

He caught another glimpse of Emrys, how he leaned in closer, his brow furrowed in concern, and Marley’s heart raced in a way that felt foreign. Bile built in his throat. From pain? From–?

There was something in the way Emrys’s gaze softened, a tenderness that made the pain a little more bearable. He noticed the way Emrys lingered, how every tiny movement he made was deliberate, as if Marley were made of glass—fragile, precious.

But then the pain spiked again, sharp and unforgiving, and Marley gasped, the thought slipping away like sand through his fingers. He wanted to scream, to shout his realisation into the void, but all that came out was a choked sound, half a plea, half a whimper.

“Marley, just breathe. You’re okay,” Emrys urged, his voice a grounding force in the chaos of Marley’s mind. The warmth radiating from him felt like a lifeline, and for a moment, Marley let himself sink into it.

But the realisation nagged at him, pushing through the fog.

It wasn’t just a what if anymore. Emrys liked him– actually liked him, and that thought made that sick feeling sit and settle.

“Hey– look at me blue, it's okay,” Emrys pressed, his voice soothing through Marley’s scattered thoughts. But all Marley could manage was a strangled sound, a mess of emotions swirling together, too much to unpack in this moment.

A hand threads in Marley's hair, slicking back sweat soaked strands.