Cisco is suddenly extremely glad that he's not alone. He kind of likes never being alone, always having Hartley within reach was a comfort he'd grown incredibly used to. But this is different, a deeper feeling that comes with the arms wrapping around him at just the right moment and the gentle guiding toward the bedroom. Cisco would rather just go, but he might need things like shoes and a jacket.
He's pulling on the jacket Hartley handed him when those three words make him remember how to take breathe. "Thank you, querido." He reaches for Hartley's hand and threads their fingers.
The trip to the hospital isn't very long, but it feels like ages and when they finally get there, it's just more waiting. He sits in a chair near the corner, leaned over his knees, palms pressed to his eyes.
There is still nothing more to say or do then be there and Hartley never thought of his presence as particularly worthwhile or comforting, unless the reason he was present was to use science or his powers or something along those lines. Just sitting around? He doubts it does much good. So he looks for other ways to do some good, leaving Cisco's side - if not for long - and gently placing a hand on his shoulder when he comes back.
"I have hot chocolate, if you want some." His most useful contribution right now. "It's the good stuff, I stole it from the nurses' lounge."
Hartley may not think of himself that way, but Cisco finds his presence comforting and important. Especially here, now, when he might be more apt to let his panic swallow him whole. Where he tends to run on emotions, Hartley has a logic that grounds Cisco when his feelings threaten to run too wild. He isn't even sure Hartley knows that, but it's no less true for it.
Cisco looks up when he comes back, hot chocolate in hand and there's the briefest ghost of a smile on his face as he accepts the cup. "You would." He huffs a soft sound of amusement and takes a careful sip.
Sarcastic commentary. He is great at that too. But so far he's mostly offered tea and whatever else he could find in this place to Cisco's parents and finally secured the hot chocolate for Cisco and somehow refrained from any sarcastic comments, which he considers an achievement in itself. He smiles back at Cisco and watches him take a sip, glancing at his parents before focusing on him again.
How do straight men even offer comfort to their straight friends? Could he put a hand on his shoulder if he added a 'no homo'? This stuff should come with a manual. Hartley doesn't mind hiding what they are, especially not given circumstances, but it does make some decisions a bit tricky. "I'm a vigilante. Or a supervillain, I haven't decided yet. Either way, it means stealing hot chocolate is something I get to do."
However... "I flirted with the nurse inside and he let me."
Under different circumstances, Cisco might even be up to just giving his parents a shock with the truth, but...all things considered, he's glad Hartley doesn't mind hiding it. Even if it does make the comfort touches a little harder to navigate.
"Sneaky." He smiles a little, but it fades a moment later. He casts a glance over at his parents and drops his gaze to the cup of cocoa nestled between his hands. "Feel like I should say something...but I don't know how to talk to them." Maybe it's less his own feeling and one of those things that he knows he's supposed to do.
"Last time I talked to my parents I was told that I should have never been born, so I might not be the expert on family communication." It's self-depreciating humour, it's not as if his story hasn't been well known to Cisco from the very beginning, he's not fishing for sympathy. Instead he looks at Cisco's parents and then back at Cisco, knowing quite a bit about their complicated relationship as well. Families.
"I think just that you're here, that's important. Sometimes there's not much you can say."
Cisco gives a facial shrug at that. No denying it. As messed up as things are with his parents? Hartley's worse off in that department. Not exactly a game anyone goes looking to win. "Yeah," he mutters softly, nodding a little, "maybe you're right. I just wanna know som..."
He trials off when he hears the footsteps down the hallway, the well-trained neutral voice. "Mr. and Mrs. Ramon?" His breath catches in his throat and the only other thing he hears, around the sound of his own heart thudding in his ears, is "I'm sorry. We did everything we could..."
That's it. That's the world crumbling at his feet. A thousand chances of tomorrow are gone. He can't think. He can't breathe. He doesn't care about pretenses any more, he leans instinctively against Hartley as the first sob is ripped from him.
Hartley doesn't hesitate, immediately wrapping his arms around Cisco, one hand going up to his hair to run his fingers through the dark strands. He holds himself back from turning his head to actually kiss the top of Cisco's head and he keeps his voice even softer than he normally might have, even though he sticks to Spanish. "I'm sorry, Cisquito. I'm here. I'm so sorry."
What else is there to say? Sometimes there's nothing. Cisco's parents certainly seem to be wordless in their grief as well. Hartley has no idea how to handle this, how to best help Cisco. Being there is about all he can do.
He's never been more glad to not be alone in a moment than this. He's not sure he could have handled this without Hartley at all. He doesn't respond, mostly because he can't and it's not like there's anything to say anyway.
The rest of the time at the hospital is a rushed blur of goodbyes and protocols. By the time they make it back home, in the all-too early hours of the morning, Cisco's reached a comfortably numb phase. At least it's better than the tears. His breaths are still a little stuttered, not quite as even as he'd like, but he isn't just smack in the middle of a breakdown anymore. For now? He's not sure it's over completely, so that may be more appropriate.
Cisco sighs heavily as he leans against the apartment door as they get inside. What's he supposed to do now? Live like it's all the same, and nothing's changed? He scrubs a hand down his face and pushes off of the door, turning long enough to make sure the locks are set, and heads toward the bedroom. "I'm just...gonna go to bed." And it sounds like that handful of words took a lot for him to even manage just now, but his fingers brush Hartley's as he walks by him to go crawl into bed. He doesn't think his boyfriend will be all that far behind.
"I'll be there in a second." Hartley doesn't really know what to do with himself, but he gives Cisco the time alone. It's habit more than anything that has him reach for his phone and dial his mother's number. He holds it to his ear while he walks around the kitchen, waiting until it cuts to voicemail, hearing the few seconds he can of his mother talking in a friendly tone. Of course he doesn't leave a message, he knows better than that.
Instead he puts the phone away and then heads for the bedroom, closing the door behind him and then climbing into bed next to Cisco so he can wrap his arms around him. What is he supposed to do? "Do you want to talk about him?"
Cisco neither hates or loves the time alone. Some part of him appreciates it, another part just silently counts the seconds until he hears the soft footsteps coming down the hallway. The second he's next to him, he curls against Hartley, seeking both the warmth and the comfort. Hartley may feel like he's at a loss, but there's little more Cisco could want or need from him right now.
"Not really..." his voice is quiet, a little hoarse and there's a frown etched into his features. He's silent for a little while, tracing patterns against the material of Hartley's shirt. Despite his denial for sharing stories, his next words seem to just bubble out of their own will, "We used to be closer... when we were kids. Til I was like, nine or ten, I guess. That's when he started pulling away." He shrugs one shoulder. "No teenager wants to hang out with their kid brother, I guess. I always hoped it'd change...in the future, somehow, we'd come full circle. The gap wouldn't matter and we'd be close again." His voice drops to a whispers. "So much for that."
"People grow apart. You are very different." Mostly he's thinking that by all accounts, Dante was a giant jerk that over-compensated for not having his brother's intelligence by making him feel inferior in spite of being the opposite, but that's clearly not something he'd share. Not right now and likely not ever. It doesn't matter anyway. None of that makes them not be brothers, none of that means that Dante didn't care for Cisco. Obviously it doesn't mean that Cisco doesn't care for him. "There's still good memories, right? Family."
"Yeah," he nods a little, "there are some good ones...but it's all they are. Memories." And what good did that do him? "I always thought there'd be time to fix it." A bitter, mirthless laugh escapes him at that. It was a harsh irony, in light of everything he now knows about time and timelines and the way there's never enough of it, or a way to catch it.
"That's something though. I'm sorry, Cisquito." There's really no use to pointing out that things might have never been fixed between them, because ultimately? That hardly matters. He kisses Cisco's hair, tightening his arms around him. There's been a timeline where they never were anything but enemies. That same timeline that has Barry, who he's come to think of as a close friend, still eye him with cautious wariness. Things can change so easily. "I'm sorry it happened."
If it's possible, he curls tighter against Hartley, shifting enough so his cheek rests against his boyfriend's chest, his ear just above his heart. There's not much left to say, but he can can let the soft, steady thud of Hartley's heart lull him to sleep.
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Date: 2016-12-23 03:52 am (UTC)He's pulling on the jacket Hartley handed him when those three words make him remember how to take breathe. "Thank you, querido." He reaches for Hartley's hand and threads their fingers.
The trip to the hospital isn't very long, but it feels like ages and when they finally get there, it's just more waiting. He sits in a chair near the corner, leaned over his knees, palms pressed to his eyes.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-23 04:08 am (UTC)"I have hot chocolate, if you want some." His most useful contribution right now. "It's the good stuff, I stole it from the nurses' lounge."
no subject
Date: 2016-12-27 05:41 am (UTC)Cisco looks up when he comes back, hot chocolate in hand and there's the briefest ghost of a smile on his face as he accepts the cup. "You would." He huffs a soft sound of amusement and takes a careful sip.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-27 04:26 pm (UTC)How do straight men even offer comfort to their straight friends? Could he put a hand on his shoulder if he added a 'no homo'? This stuff should come with a manual. Hartley doesn't mind hiding what they are, especially not given circumstances, but it does make some decisions a bit tricky. "I'm a vigilante. Or a supervillain, I haven't decided yet. Either way, it means stealing hot chocolate is something I get to do."
However... "I flirted with the nurse inside and he let me."
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 03:13 am (UTC)"Sneaky." He smiles a little, but it fades a moment later. He casts a glance over at his parents and drops his gaze to the cup of cocoa nestled between his hands. "Feel like I should say something...but I don't know how to talk to them." Maybe it's less his own feeling and one of those things that he knows he's supposed to do.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 03:35 am (UTC)"I think just that you're here, that's important. Sometimes there's not much you can say."
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 03:55 am (UTC)He trials off when he hears the footsteps down the hallway, the well-trained neutral voice. "Mr. and Mrs. Ramon?" His breath catches in his throat and the only other thing he hears, around the sound of his own heart thudding in his ears, is "I'm sorry. We did everything we could..."
That's it. That's the world crumbling at his feet. A thousand chances of tomorrow are gone. He can't think. He can't breathe. He doesn't care about pretenses any more, he leans instinctively against Hartley as the first sob is ripped from him.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 04:02 am (UTC)What else is there to say? Sometimes there's nothing. Cisco's parents certainly seem to be wordless in their grief as well. Hartley has no idea how to handle this, how to best help Cisco. Being there is about all he can do.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 04:15 am (UTC)The rest of the time at the hospital is a rushed blur of goodbyes and protocols. By the time they make it back home, in the all-too early hours of the morning, Cisco's reached a comfortably numb phase. At least it's better than the tears. His breaths are still a little stuttered, not quite as even as he'd like, but he isn't just smack in the middle of a breakdown anymore. For now? He's not sure it's over completely, so that may be more appropriate.
Cisco sighs heavily as he leans against the apartment door as they get inside. What's he supposed to do now? Live like it's all the same, and nothing's changed? He scrubs a hand down his face and pushes off of the door, turning long enough to make sure the locks are set, and heads toward the bedroom. "I'm just...gonna go to bed." And it sounds like that handful of words took a lot for him to even manage just now, but his fingers brush Hartley's as he walks by him to go crawl into bed. He doesn't think his boyfriend will be all that far behind.
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 04:26 am (UTC)Instead he puts the phone away and then heads for the bedroom, closing the door behind him and then climbing into bed next to Cisco so he can wrap his arms around him. What is he supposed to do? "Do you want to talk about him?"
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 04:48 am (UTC)"Not really..." his voice is quiet, a little hoarse and there's a frown etched into his features. He's silent for a little while, tracing patterns against the material of Hartley's shirt. Despite his denial for sharing stories, his next words seem to just bubble out of their own will, "We used to be closer... when we were kids. Til I was like, nine or ten, I guess. That's when he started pulling away." He shrugs one shoulder. "No teenager wants to hang out with their kid brother, I guess. I always hoped it'd change...in the future, somehow, we'd come full circle. The gap wouldn't matter and we'd be close again." His voice drops to a whispers. "So much for that."
no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 04:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 05:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-28 05:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-12-29 01:56 am (UTC)