This is my attempt at Aloha! Fanfiction. I really hope everyone (-But especially Flowertea!) enjoys it. <3
Warnings: Depiction of blood and major trauma, light Gamzee/Tavros.
There is pain. So much pain, you can’t imagine anything but. You can’t see, can’t hear, smell, can’t even feel beyond pain. All you can do is know pain; The blinding agony that is currently killing you.
If you could, though-
If you could see, you’d see the flashing lights –red, blue, red, blue- in the setting dusk of the beach. The people crowded around. The EMT’s trying to save your life.
If you could hear, you’d hear the technicians screaming orders, at both each-other and over a radio. You could hear the small crowd gasping, the ocean pulling in and out, and the mocking call of sea-birds.
If you could smell, you’d smell the ocean, smell the faint breeze that carries flowers.
-Mostly, though, you’d smell the overcoming scent of blood.
If you could feel, you’d know the pain stemmed not from your legs, but from your lack of them. If you could feel, you’d tell the moment they loaded you into the bus, the moment they hooked an iv up, the moment the tourniquets and medicine and shock-panels had to be administered.
If you could do all this at once, you’d see him standing above you. You’d hear him crying your name over and over. You smell your blood over his chest and swim-shorts, along with the salt of his tears.
You’d feel the near crushing pressure of his hand on yours.
-But you can’t. Because all you can do now is scream.
=> => =>
Your name is Tavros Nitram, and you are currently on a surfboard, watching the sun set, and you couldn’t be happier if you tired.
This isn’t your first time out. Gamzee’s been taking you more and more lately- ever since he declared you ‘Fit for the Wide Blue Mother, mother fucker!’- and really, you enjoy it, so why not?
(If you enjoy it more because Gamzee’s there, well, that’s just for you to know.)
He’d picked you up in the late afternoon, after he’d gotten off work, and you both had headed out. Setting out on your old bikes, surfboards in one hand, handle in the other, you rode out to the near-by shore.
It’s mostly the locals that come here. The rocks in the outer shore aren’t as appealing to tourists and Haole’s as they are to surfers, so Gamzee generally prefers this beach to any of the others near by.
(“But, um, aren’t I a Haole, Gamzee?”
Gamzee had stared at you, his eyes unusually warm and bright. “Naugh, you’re my brah, Tavbrah.”)
Gamzee had declared the beach prime for surfing, and set off on his long board as you followed behind. He stroked out, long arms powerful against the waves. “You’re still a little grommit, bradda.” He called to you. “Don’t push yourself to hard, here me?”
You had taken his advice to heart- after three waves, one you stuck and two you managed to completely wipe-out in, you had called it break and sat to watch dusk settle across the ocean, looking for the green-flash to light the sky.
In retrospect, this was the dumbest possible thing to do.
Because while the sunset is beautiful, it is a death sentence.
=> => =>
“Tavros,” Feferi calls from a bit off, and you turn to see her running towards you. Her hair bounces behind with every step, and her smile is blinding and sweet. “How are you, ku’uipo?”
You smile back. “Fine. I’m, uh, back from classes. I thought I’d go, um, see Gamzee.”
The native girl giggles, and you blush. Before you can set her straight, she is waving her hand back and forth.
“No need to lie, ku’uipo, I know you’re lolo for him. I hear he’s giving you private surf lessons, ne?” He smile suggests she believes the ‘private surf lessons’ are little more than ‘gratuitous make out sessions’.
You want to correct her, to inform her of the slave-driving horror Gamzee is when he’s teaching, but both your and her good nature prevents you.
Your silence (and blushing) on the matter seem enough an answer for her, and she smiles.
“It’s good for you. You’ll be able to come hang with all of us, get going on the action, yeah?”
Her face goes strangely solemn, though, and she gives a piece of advice.
(You didn’t take it to heart, though. You didn’t, and you will curse yourself for the rest of your life.)
“When you are surfing, be smart. Don’t go out past dusk, Tavros. Be careful.”
You nod, though confused. “Um, sure. But…Why?”
She looks you straight in the eye.
“Because that’s when the sharks come out to hunt, ku’uipo.”
=> => =>
When you open your eyes, all you can see is white. As you turn your head, you see rainbows- masses of flowers and cards litter the small table near you, gifts from all your friends. There’s an iv hooked up to your arm. There is a window to your left, and you can make out the bright blue of sky and the deep green of the jungle peeking up.
There is a Gamzee sitting in the chair next you. He is looking at you with a look that screams relief and fear.
“Hey.” He whispers.
“Hey.” You whisper back.
You stay like that for a minute, neither of you saying anything, before a sharp pain in your right leg makes you wince.
You look down.
You have no right leg.
You have no left leg either.
(You have one right thigh, and one ripped up left thigh. You have the horrible remnants of a shark attack, one that you will never truly recover from.
-But you also have your life.)
=> => =>
He’s there the next day. -And the next day after that. -And for the rest of the month you’re in that small, white, terrible room.
You learn a lot, that month.
You learn that even though you’re missing both your legs physically, you will probably always feel the phantom pain shooting through them.
You learn that amount of damage caused to your muscles will make prostatics near impossible.
You learn that you’ll most likely have to use a wheelchair for the rest of your life.
You learn the shark that attacked you was a bull shark.
You learn it hadn’t been caught, and that the wild-life officials doubted it ever would.
(You could never hate an animal, and this shark is no exception. He was simply doing what sharks do- feeding, hunting; being a shark. You could no sooner blame a bee for pollinating, or a dog for wagging it’s tail. The shark did nothing wrong.)
Gamzee doesn’t share your beliefs.
“Are you lolo, Tav?! That mother-fucker, he- you-“ He’s in near rage, storming, pacing across your room like a caged tiger.
Maybe it’s the drugs, maybe you’re just more logical about this, or maybe your just so, so tired that this argument seems pointless.
“The shark did nothing wrong, Gamz. It’s my fault.”
“Your fault?!” Gamzee near screams. “How is all hell could this be your fault?!”
“I was in his home.” You whisper. “I didn’t follow the, the rules- I was out in the ocean at dusk. I wasn’t careful.”
“You, you didn’t-“ Gamzee stares at you, and then with an air of utter sorrow he collapses in the chair, scrubbing at his face. “I told you to be careful, brah, I told you but how could you, how could you be safe when I was leading you to a mother-fuckin’ death-trap-“
“Gamzee.” You stare him, and he looks near tears. “Gamzee.” He finally looks up. You feel like something very important is about to pass through you both. “Gamzee, I’m not dead.”
He looks back at you, straight into your eyes. He seems to focus, and suddenly it’s like everything has clicked for him.
“Nah.” He says softly, like it’s the biggest miracle. Like you’re the biggest miracle. “Nah, you ain’t.”
=> => =>
After a little less than a month, the doctors allow you to be discharged. It’s a both a relief and a fear, because now you know you’ll have to face the outside world.
After filling out the paperwork, Gamzee hovering the entire way, a Nursing Aid go to fetch the second hand wheelchair you’ve just bought from the hospital.
Gamzee protests that he could’ve helped buy you a new one, that he was have shelled out the whole amount even, but you strongly refuse.
(You understand, at least, that you will be relying on people a lot more, now. You cannot allow yourself any more than is necessary.)
The Aid finally brings it in, and nodding farewell, takes your forms and leaves.
And suddenly it’s like everything has stopped moving. It’s like the whole world is holding your breath, and maybe it really is just you, but suddenly you are shocked still by the arrival of this wheelchair.
There’s nothing special about it- it’s a standard hospital issue chair. Four wheels, handle-bars in the back to push. It’s black, and a bit old. Nothing marks it to be anything less than what it is- a wheelchair.
You’re not really surprised when the tears come. Gamzee obviously is- he’s struck silent and still as you begin to weep.
Some part of you must have expected this. Some large part of you knew that this was your outcome- this was what the doctors had told you would happen. Multiple times, it was addressed. ‘You’ll be in a wheelchair.’ ‘Even with prosthetics, this will have to be your main mode of transportation.’ ‘Son, I’m so sorry.’
Some part of you knew. –But it hasn’t hit you until now. That this really happened. That this shark really tore both your legs off.
It hasn’t hit that this is your life.
So you cry, and it’s big sobbing tears. There is no beauty, no poise- just a mess of emotions and hurt and sorrow and why, why, why’s all pouring out of you.
-And suddenly Gamzee’s there, holding you. Whispering sweet words in a language you don’t quite know yet, carding fingers through your hair, and kissing- just barely, so barely- your forehead.
You don’t stop crying.
–But you think, maybe like this, you could learn to stop.
=> => =>
Haole = foreigner
grommit = novice surfer
ku’uipo = sweetheart
lolo = crazy
Aloha Mano = Hello/Goodbye Shark
**Everything I know about sharks and shark attacks I know from living in Florida and Shark Week. All Hawaiian is curtousy the Internet, and if I butchered it I am so, so sorry.**