Mr. Heartbear
#22 of Hockey Hunk Season 2
What wouldn't we do for love?
Hello ,everyone!
I am proud to welcome you to read the amazing FIFTIETH (50!!) chapter of "Hockey Hunk"! I can't believe that it's already gone on for that long, can you? *chuckle* It's been a huge ride, and I'm very happy to be here, and sharing this story with y'all. Thank you for your constant feedback and support. I don't think that this story would have grown out of a one-smut into a truly meaningful narrative without your contributions.
That said, I think we left this story into a very tense situation, so without further rambling by me about how amazing it is, here's the new chapter, enjoy!
If you have any comments, don't hesitate! Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to read and enjoy.
Cheers!
*
Peter drew a gasping breath as I rushed over and knelt by the bed, grabbing onto his arm without warning.
"Peter," I spoke firmly, looking him over, taking in the flattened ears and the lashing tail, and the chest that was rising and lowering all too fast.
He did not answer with anything but a grunted breath.
"Peter," I spoke again, trying to meet his eyes that were fixed on the ceiling and not turning to look at me, despite the touch that was now over his arm, me, grabbing his arm with both of my paws and letting him feel me there. "Peter, look at me."
Peter let out a guttural moan of pain.
"Rowreeh..." he whispered my name, his eyes closing shut now.
My own ears remained flat when I cupped the side of his head into one of my paws, and still held onto the roughly breathing cougar, while my own heart hammered in my chest, as hard as his was, surely.
"Peter, listen to me, do you need anything?" I spoke firmly, knowing that I had to get through the haze of pain and confusion that surely had filled his mind now.
"I...I tried to fight it...as long as I could..." Peter hissed between clenched teeth.
"I know," I spoke in return, the pain in my own chest growing as I realized that Peter's broken soul had turned the pain in his mind into a physical pain, one that could overcome him within moments, and gathered into a bundle of pure pain, in his chest, now clutched by both of us, while he lay there, breathing hard. "I know, Peter, I know it hurts, can I help?"
I stroked over his arm and held his head, letting him know I was there, in whatever capacity I could be there.
"I..TRIED to FIGHT it!" Peter growled, his eyes still squeezed firmly shut, both paws clutching onto his chest. "I couldn't stop...ahhh!"
I rubbed Peter's chin, firmly, like I had to do it the last time this happened, when the soulbreaking pain became a bodywrecking one and took him by surprise, making him lose his strength in that horrible burst of pain, but, terrifyingly, his mind was still there, working, knowing what was happening, but there was nothing he could do. That much I knew, from what he had told me, with tear-streaked eyes, in the past, when it first happened when I was there, and I had held him, and tried to sooth out his pain the best I could, knowing perfectly well that there was so little I could do.
"It's happening now," I continued to talk softly, keeping my paws on him, letting him know I was here, even if he didn't look at me. "Peter, I know it's happening, I know it's horrible, but you know it's just pain, it's not real, it's just the pain, it will go away, soon...I'm here to help you to let it go away...just let it go away."
His tail kept smacking the bed while I spoke, trying to assure him, even through the haze of pain and disbelieving terror, that there still could be a time when there was no pain. I wanted him to know that the feeling of something clawing through his chest was not real, that it was just the pain, the devious, angry, evil pain that was having the best of him, when he was at his weakest, and gone though already enough.
"It...it hurts..."
"I know it hurts, I know it hurts so badly and it feels like your heart is going to stop, that's what you've told me, I know it feels awful, but I know it's just pain, and you can let it happen, and then it's gone, and everything back to normal. You're completely safe, and I'm here, and there's nothing wrong with you."
My voice sounded hollow to my own ears, as I listened to Peter's agitated breaths, and felt the tension go through him in waves, causing his body to flex, in his prone position, and bring more gasps from his muzzle. I stroked his brow with my thumb and kept holding onto his arm, letting him have my physical comfort, all the while I spoke to him, as gently as I knew how to.
"I know you know that it's not real, and I know it sucks, but I know you can get through it. We'll do it together, okay?" I told him, gently. "I know you're brave and didn't want to let it come out but now it's here and we have to get rid of it, and you just have to let it come out."
"I......fought...IT!"
"I know," I whispered, watching how his face pulled into a scowl, and another pained hiss escaped from his lips. "I know you did, you're so brave, and I know it must have been horrible to be there again, but there's nothing else we can do."
"I...AHHH!" his body tensed as he groaned with pain.
"Peter!" I snapped, holding firmly onto him as his body contorted, his voice breaking when the groan became a moan, before he was limp again, on the bed. "Peter!"
"It hurts so badly...it hurts so badly..."
"I know it does, but listen to me, you know it's not real, you know it'll go away," I tried to keep my voice as steady as I could, even if watching Peter's suffering became more and more painful for me to bear.
Peter groaned and grunted, and his tail smacked against my side, almost painfully hard, when his body tensed again.
"...it happened there...it...we were there...I was there, Rory...I was...THERE!" his teeth clenched together so hard that I almost feared that they would break.
I held onto his jaw and soothed him with my thumb.
"I know, Peter, I know that it must have been awful. I know it's terrifying for you, and you were so brave," I told him, hoping, by GOD hoping that my eyes would not tear up.
"Rory..."
I rubbed him cheek, softly, carefully.
"Yes, Peter?"
He hissed and groaned.
"They...they pushed me through the same corridor, Rory...on the wheelchair...fuck...Rory, they pushed me past that door...that door..." Peter's voice had gone low and drawling, almost difficult to make through all the noises he was making, how all of his sounds were distorted by the tension that filled his body.
Peter wailed.
"That...that door..."
"To the trauma room?" I suggested, knowing that trying to deny the facts was only bound to make Peter feel worse.
"To that room!" Peter snapped, snarling the words out before he drew a deep breath that was soon expelled, all too audibly.
"I know," I spoke, quietly.
"I don't know how I made it this long...Jesus...fuck...shit...I've no idea how I made it..."
"You're stronger than you think," I replied, firmly, still holding him, touching him, making sure that Peter knew that I meant the truth when I said so, that I really thought that he was made of stronger stuff than anyone could think of, despite the fact that he'd been sick for so long and seen so much pain.
Peter grunted.
"Get me Mr. Heartbear, Rory, please."
My eyes widened as they snapped to meet Peter's, that were still closed, held tightly shut, not looking at anything, but into Peter's own internal mindscape, blocking out the bedroom, and me, and everything that was he real world, instinctively, perhaps. It was not a perfectly strange request, of course it wasn't, but I didn't really want to let go of him, not even for a short moment, and that's why I hesitated at first.
"Do you really want him?" I spoke, quietly, squeezing his arm.
"Yeah...please, Rory..." Peter huffed.
"Okay," I said quickly, and even though I hardly wanted to leave him alone, I had to get up, and walk over to the closet on the wall, which I opened.
I knew where Mr. Heartbear was, and it was not difficult for me to reach past Peter's neatly folded t-shirts and pick out the brown teddy bear, wrapped in clear, rustling plastic, as if it had never been taken out of its packaging. I didn't waste time closing the cabinet and moving over back to the bed, holding the teddy bear carefully in my paws, as I approached the prone cougar again. I saw that Peter's eyes were open now, staring at me, widely, and as bright as they ever were.
He was not crying.
"Here", I rumbled as I sat down on the edge of the bed and offered the plastic-wrapped bear for him.
Peter's paws lashed out and took the stuffed toy, clutching it immediately against his bare chest. He let out a loud sigh, and his ears flicked, though I wasn't sure whether I could yet take that as a reassuring sign.
"Peter..."
Peter suddenly rolled over to his side, still holding onto the bear, exposing his back to me, while his body curled down, almost fetal, as he held the bear onto his chest, his arms crossed, his body pulling down on itself, protectively.
"Hold me, Rory," Peter rumbled.
I gasped.
"Peter..."
"Hold me."
I tried my best to get down onto my side as carefully as possible, and then scooted over to him, and put an arm around him, crossing it over his own arm, though not along Mr. Heartbear, who was held by Peter only. I put my other arm by Peter's head, so that his ears flicked against it when I placed it there. I began to stroke his head furs, slowly, and I put my tail around Peter's leg, for added measure, as I held onto him, and let him listen to my breaths, and feel them as well, while I kept Peter close to myself, and let him draw peace from me, as much as he could. He was still tense, his body contorting on itself on occasion, and the gasps came often, too often, and each time I felt a little bit of the pain myself, coursing through my own chest that was thankfully not affected the way Peter's was, but still...he was my Peter, and he was hurting, and I was hurting. How could I not feel hurt in such a moment? I knew what was happening with him and I knew that the only thing we could do was to ride it out and let it pass on its own, while what I could do was to provide gentleness, and a little bit of distraction, to try and keep his mind off the burning pain, and the feeling of helplessness.
"I know it's the weirdest thing but he loved that door...and seeing it..."
I softly pressed my chin against the back of his neck when I spoke, still stroking Peter's head and his belly, gently.
"I know...I saw him there once, with you," I spoke, calmly, trying not to get too involved in the memories, myself.
Peter huffed, and I made sure to hold him more firmly, until he relaxed again, as much as he could, in this situation...this awful place.
"...he loved that door...he loved what it represented...for him..."
I continued my soothing rubbing, slowly and steadily, and made sure my tail was securely in place about his curled legs.
"...whenever he was in the hospital and it rained, he'd go there...escape from the nurses and sit there...waiting, he'd say...shit...he was such a fucker...once he even had one of those...you know, drink coolers, with him......told he had it ready when the time came...fuck..." Peter moaned, pained, and I held onto him, when the wailing sound rose, and then ebbed down, letting his body to fall less tensely upon the bed again.
"I'm sure the staff wasn't amused," I rumbled, quietly.
Peter snorted.
"He was difficult...when he wanted to be, he was difficult...but only when he wanted to be."
My paws never wavered.
"I guess it's how he dealt with it...pain...fear...loneliness..."
Peter began to tense again, and I was quick to hold him, stroke him and be there for him, as another wave of that terrifying pain coursed through him, and the left, and he was still again, breathing heavily.
"...I...think so..."
I nuzzled the back of Peter's head, gently, sampling his soft scent and leaving a little bit of mine there as well, whatever I had left after my aseptic bath, and kept on the distracting, soothing rub, over his belly, carefully.
"...at least he wasn't alone when he died..."
My eyes became wide open again, and my own body tensed at his sudden words, spoken in an oddly hollow tone, despite the rumbling, breathy edge to them, coming between clenched lips and teeth and jaws again, I was sure, but the voice was...it wasn't the same agitated voice that was there before, but a darker, deeper tone. My heart leaped in my chest, and my tail squeezed around his legs, and I really had to bite my own teeth down, to keep the groan of surprise at bay. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what else I could do but to hold him now, and let him deal with this in any way he had to do, and if that meant talking about George in these terms, I would take it, and try not to have my own soul burnt out too badly in the process.
"...I'd never forgiven myself if he had to be alone in that same room...his hope room...surrounded by strange furs and machines that could not do any good to him..." Peter rumbled.
I drew a deep breath through my nose.
"I know," I whispered, trying to keep calm.
Peter tensed again, once more overtaken by the pain as it grew, and I was in my place, holding him, helping him fight it, to push it away, and use his all too aware mind for his advantage, to let the soul reign over the body and assure the body that he was not dying now, that it was just the pain, playing the cruelest possible trick on him. He gasped and grunted, and I let out a soft rumble as well, unable to contain it anymore as I had to witness this pain again, and help Peter through it.
"...I...I'm still glad it happened there...Rory..."
"Hmm?" I didn't have the words.
"I...at least he...at least he didn't have to...die in the last place where he was happy...Rory, I'm happy he didn't die in this bed..." Peter drawled.
The corners of my eyes burned when I listened to him. This was something he had not shared with me before, and it was painful to listen to it, to the hollow voice, and to what it meant for Peter...to share these words, about thoughts that had to be even more private than anything he ever told me before, about that night seven months ago. We had talked about it, but these details...these feelings...I could not help but weep for my friend, for the pain and for the terror he had had to go through in such a short time.
Some of my tears were for George, too, gentle George, the best thing that ever happened to Peter, and Peter was the best thing that ever happened to George...and here we were talking about that gentle young man, who had been so hopeful, and then he was no longer.
I still had to be brave for Peter, Peter was here, in my arms, and I could not start blabbering while it was I who was supposed to be strong one, when Peter needed it.
"...and I'm glad it rained. He liked rain, even when it wasn't about wanting motorbikes to crash because of slippery roads," Peter rumbled.
I snuffled at the ludicrous comment, to my horror, almost finding out that next a sharp laugh escaped from my throat, loud and clear and one that made both of out ears jump. I tensed, hoping that Peter would not going to throttle me for it, but then he chuffed, and groaned, and let out an almost pained sound, which I realized, only afterwards, was his laugh, at this horrible moment, as he shook in my arms.
I cried and laughed at the same time.
*
Slowly, the pain went away, like it always does, and was replaced by tiredness, that overtook Peter quickly, and made him curl down in my arms and sleep, and I daren't move, and I simply held him, dried my face by rubbing it onto his pillow, and kept my arms around my Peter. I only woke up sometime in the night, to Peter moving, and my eyes opened, too, and felt him move in my embrace.
"Peter?" I muttered, barely awake yet, though my heart had leaped up to full beating action, expecting a nightmare, or another attack of terror upon Peter.
The cougar's breaths sounded soft.
"I need to go to the bathroom," Peter whispered.
I couldn't help but snuffle. I realized that I had to go, too.
"Let's get to it then", I rumbled.
We hobbled over to the bathroom in a strange three-legged tangle of cougar and lion, and I helped Peter to stay up when he took a long piss on the toilet, and then he sat down briefly onto his bath chair, to wait for me to do my business, before we headed out back into the bedroom. I helped Peter to lay down comfortably, and this time, I opened the covers and folded the cougar into them, tucking him in, while Peter watched me with tired eyes. He didn't forget to pull the rustling Mr. Heartbear down with him and hide him under his duvet and against his chest, while he laid down on his side, watching me still. I fussed around with the pillows, making some room for myself to lay there as well, because there was no way that I would leave him alone for the night. I pulled some of the duvet over myself, too, and pressed my head on the pillow, before I reached out and turned off the lamp that stood on the small nearby nightstand.
The world became blackness and was reduced to the gentle gleam of Peter's eyes, the only thing I saw in the void that was the world before my eyes could became used to the darkness. It was always a bit disorientating, that moment between light and darkness, even for a cat, because our eyes become used to the darkness so quickly and so well, but somehow, that adaptability, made that first moment always seem the blackest of them all.
"I love you."
*
Thank you for reading. If you have any comments, I am more than happy to hear your thoughts. Also remember that all votes, faves and watches will help others to find these stories to enjoy as well.
Cheerio!