In which René has a tough time, renews an interest in food, and has absolutely had enough of Helen’s shit.
The days pass.
To everyone currently in his life, René functions and acts just like he always has.
But he has more difficulty getting out of bed in the morning. He’s never late to work, never a hair out of place; but the effort it takes to sit up and groom himself and drive his car to work seems agonizing and increasingly hard to tackle.
He finds that his usual order at the coffee shop does not lift his spirits like it used to. He can recognize that this cup of coffee is particularly good, that the chocolate biscuit on his plate is warm and tasty, but he’s unmoved by it.
There were so few things he enjoyed or looked forward to in life and they were just… fading away. How long would it be before he enjoyed nothing?
In which Mundy realizes what’s happened, tells a story, and I am so so sorry.
Time, as it often does, passes. René has spent the last few hours holed up in his bedroom, chain-smoking out the window and almost pulling his hair out. It’s a beautiful evening; the trees are vibrant and orange, the air smells like chimney smoke and a pie that someone down the street is letting cool on their window.
He rests his arms out the window and feels the breeze filter through his fingertips. He rests his head on his arms and stares at the sky; a cobalt gray of solid cloud that cools the earth by blocking out the sun. René likes this weather, actually. He much prefers it to Summer, anyway. Hot weather does not agree with him; sweating and sunburn may be enjoyable for some people, but René prefers the bite of a cold wind and bundling up in warm clothes.
The sound of a motorcycle’s engine, so familiar after only two weeks, can be heard down the street and René feels his stomach sink. He makes no move to get up or leave his bedroom. He’s just going to stay there until he has a better idea of how to function, but until then staring out the window seems just fine.
I had a dream about Renard and Kane last night and…… Renard had some roboty arms, it was p cool.
In which Mundy returns the favor, there is a cake, and Helen’s a total witch.
"You ok?" The taller man asks after they’ve had a few moments.
René huffs a small laugh, grateful that he does not have to be the one to speak first. “I feel… better than I have in a long time. I really want a cigarette, though.”
"Of my many vices, that ain’t one of ‘em, can’t help you there." There is a contemplative pause. "René Bellamy," he hums. "You surprise me. Didn’t think I was your type."
"Don’t be stupid," he smiles. "Of course you are. You’re kind and handsome and funny…"
In which René attends a picnic, Helen is still awful, and Mundy comes to the rescue.
Honestly, René would have stayed in bed all day and pretended to be sick if Mundy wasn’t obviously cooking eggs downstairs. His mouth waters and his stomach grumbles and he fights it for as long as he can before he drags himself from bed and trudges downstairs without changing out of his pajamas.
Mundy laughs when he lays eyes on him. “Aw c’mon, mate! Won’t be that bad! Have a few hot dogs, make nice with the neighbors, do a three-legged race with your girlfriend…”
"Euch!" René exclaims, burying his face in his hands. "That’s not funny."
This is a great fic. I am very excited about this. Bless. Pls read.