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Realistic or Modern Two Giants Scream Nonsense







Ezra Gray




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Ezra woke suddenly, his lungs wheezing as he forced a deep breath in. A terrible idea, really, because the second his chest began to expand, searing pain shot through his ribs. He began to cough, sputter, desperately clutching the metal rails of the bed he was laying in as people swarmed the room, asking him questions, demanding he stay calm.

Where was he? How long had he been there?

Los Angeles County Hospital, Ezra quickly found out by the badges worn by the nurses and doctors, and roughly three days. As they retold the tale of how he was found by his brother, brought in unconscious, had been in and out of a fitful sleep, had narrowly escaped serious and permanent damage. They then asked him if he knew who had attacked him.

“No,” Ezra managed, sipping water through a bendy straw, “and I don’t want to press charges.”

It took another two days until the staff felt comfortable releasing him into the care of his brother. The time passed with medication and tests and staring out the hospital room’s small checkered window, staring down at the people wandering the streets below. They looked like ants from so high up, so easily squashed and damaged. Was that how he was seen by those men that attacked him? They were still out there, no doubt, so would they come back?

He needed sleep.

The first day home, he slept, that was all he could bring himself to do. He awoke only long enough to attempt to eat some soup that his brother had prepared for him and to call his frantic mother, whom he begged not to come, insisting that he was entirely fine. She eventually relented on the promise that if anything else happened, Ezra would let her know right away.

Ezra agreed, even though he knew that he wouldn’t.

By the second day, he managed to sneak away from his brother’s careful gaze long enough to get in his car and drive. He didn’t stop until he was outside his door, bruised knuckles rapping on the wood carefully and with a pained hiss. Ezra leaned on the doorframe for support, standing was still a difficult task. As the door swung open, Ezra’s face softened slightly as he forced himself to stand upright.

“Auguste,” Ezra spoke slowly, the corners of his lips upturning ever so slightly at the comforting sight of the familiar man, “I’m sorry.”





♡coded by uxie♡
 





























SEPTEMBER 14TH.

“Wow you look like shit.”

Words bubbled to the scarred lips as the musician stared at Ezra’s face, always a man of tact and grace. The carefully laid honeyed words to endear himself to others.

“Uh… Thanks?”

Equally graceful in words as he was on stage whilst dancing.

“I mean.. Yeah. Thanks. I guess. Did ehm. Did you hit your head, Ezra?” Blank stare. And then slowly, Auguste’s head moved to glance about, noticing Ezra’s car. “... Are you…”

A pause.

“Are you… is it… driving with a concussion, this is…” Reckless endangerment.

Auguste shuffled his feet awkwardly as they stood in the doorway. He lived in a nicer neighborhood now, not nearly as dangerous as it used to be.

“Ehm…”

Blink.

“Oh. Do you… I have tea.” He said, slowly backing away from the door in order to wordlessly offer Ezra to come inside. “If… If you… Coffee is also an option.”

“And… how do you say… ehm.. ibuprofen.“ As awkward as ever, there was a tug at his lips that could’ve passed for a very awkward and extremely fake smile, the dour giant was never one for smiling when the stage lights dimmed and the cameras were off anyways.

A flicker of ice eyes up and down, taking in Ezra’s appearance once more. “... You look like you need it. Because you look like shit.”

He allowed Ezra to come in, head ducked low in order to clear the doorframes and the ceilings as he stepped into the condo.

It was actually quite nice, and Auguste’s normal amounts of messy aesthetic fit well with making the home feel quaint and lived in – his random assortment of things scattered about.

Auguste set a baseball bat down by his front door that he’d been hiding behind his leg as he walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on, allowing the awkward silence to fill the room and then fester.

He’d never been the best with words after all.

But maybe this was the one time where words would actually be needed.

“So.” That came out ten times more aggressive than Auguste meant it to. Whoops. His voice softened once more into the soft spoken manner which he was all but known for at this point. “You ehm… Are you going to… tell me how… that.”

A wild gesture to Ezra’s face.

“Happened?”























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♡coded by uxie♡

 

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