ashintheairlikesnow:

The Same Bed: Antoni

CW: Burning, beating, some derogatory language, ptsd, references to murder

Part One: Jake|Part Two: Krista|Part Three: Chris |Part Four: Vincent

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The sun is setting as Antoni pushes the shopping cart out of the store, throwing a kind of golden haze over the dozen or so cars in the parking lot. The water in the bay will be glittering, he thinks, appearing streaked with reddish gold. To the north, the sky is turning orange, the legacy of wildfires up in the canyons far from Berras, fires that won’t stop burning.

If he stops, he can smell smoke in the air, just a little.

The fires aren’t coming south, they say, but it doesn’t matter. Antoni’s carefully rebuilt life is on fire without their help. The people he loves are being set aflame and he can’t do anything but offer to go buy groceries while Jake holds a shaking, sobbing Kauri and the new one, Rafael, tries to talk to a nearly-silent, perfectly-still Chris.

Heat sticks his shirt to his shoulder blades, makes his scars itch all over his arms and his torso, has the dark brown curls at the nape of his neck tickling his skin. He wears long sleeves no matter the season, but that gets its own kind of unwelcome attention in blistering dry heat like this.

One wheel on his cart sticks and he has to constantly course-correct, pulling the cart back slightly and then pushing forward again, bumping off the walkway into the pavement. The cart rattles, the plastic rustles, and Antoni is going to lose his mind with the anger he can do nothing about.

A woman with a little girl holding her hand walks past him, the little girl singing something vaguely familiar. They look at him - and whatever the woman sees in his face, she tightens her grip and hurries the girl along.

Jake’s ancient car doesn’t unlock from a key fob, and Antoni has to feed the key into the lock on the trunk physically to get it open. The trunk groans in protest, but Antoni pushes it up anyway, and feels a brief burst of something like delight when it stays up instead of trying to crash back down on his head like usual.

The trunk is huge, at least, and there’s plenty of space for everything he needs to put in there. Chris’s favorite cereals and some chocolate nutrition shakes - he stops eating when he’s like this, unless you force him to, and then what he can eat narrows to a tiny sliver of options. Antoni did his best - the cereal and the shakes, the frozen chicken nuggets and french fries, loaves of plain white bread - that’s all for Chris, to coax food into him when his body is too frightened for anything but whatever it reads as safe.

He has cat food and litter for Krista’s little old man Pepperjack, too, while she stays with them for a few days. Jake’s called some people to check her apartment over and change the locks, but Antoni thinks Krista will move, soon, anyway. Her lease is almost up and she won’t feel safe in that space any longer.

Even if she wasn’t the actual target.

His chest twists in anger and nerves, but Antoni is solid, and he is quiet, and he loads the bags without allowing his anger to take root. They’ll deal with it all as it comes, like they always have. Antoni will handle it, if he can, and let the rest of them heal themselves with contact and touch and soft words.

Antoni will handle the other things, the things that would make them have to leave the safety of their home. 

Above him, the light has dimmed enough that the big streetlights in the parking lot click on, and a low soft buzzing sound settles under the calls of birds and distant human voices, the rumble of traffic down the highway.

If it weren’t for the slight scent of smoke that prickles across every visible centimeter of skin, it would be a lovely night.

He drops the last bag inside and slams the trunk door shut so it’ll catch, turning to push the shopping cart to the little cart corral on the next row, about ten spots down. He’s vaguely aware of another car door opening, clicking shut quietly, but the rattling of the wheels and metal of the cart mostly cover up the sound of footsteps behind him.

He pushes the cart into the corral, watching it crash against the back and come to a rough stop. He exhales, sticking one hand in his pocket to pull Jake’s keys back out.

And then there’s something immensely, awfully familiar shoved against the small of his back. Antoni tenses, spine ramrod-straight, and the solid muzzle of the gun - that’s what it is, he’s had guns pushed against every part of him with Mr. Davies, knows the feel of a gun more intimately than any kiss - pushes harder, bruising through his shirt. 

“Walk,” The owner of the gun says softly.

Antoni hears the safety click off.

He walks. 

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Ok, ok, I think I put my thoughts in order enough to manage some sort of comment!

First of all, I love Antoni’s quiet anger and more than that his resolve to keep that anger at bay

I love how he is scared, but still mostly in control while Owen threatens him with a gun, and beats him up, but the moment the clove cigarettes appear he’s panicking

I love that he did call Jake for help, I love that still determination is his answer to all of this.

I don’t need to tell you how much I fucking love Antoni, by God, you know… But damn, Ash… I can’t handle this man! This was so good and I had such high expectations for his piece and I am so thrilled at what we got!!!