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etherealnoir · 6 months

Text

The Man in the Chair

Pairing: Dhan Rana x Zeke Wallace Word Count: 1.2K Tags: Phobias, Disassociation, Trauma (All mild), Subtle Emotional Infidelity (if you squint?) Summary: Dhan likes talking to Zeke. And he hates that he likes it so much. But he'd never tell Zeke that. A/N: Just a slice of conversation between a grumpy vet and a ray of sunshine techie. You could read this as romantic or platonic tbh.

(Source)

"Okay, Dhan, you did it. You survived. It's fine."

He took a deep breath, leaning over the sink and staring into his own eyes in the streaky, fogged up mirror.

He knew the door was quadruple locked. He checked once, twice, three times both before and after he got out the shower. And though the silence in the apartment unnerved him, it was better than the alternative. Once he felt semi-safe enough to relax, he played some low meditation music that Margaret recommended for him.

Typically, Dhan had a specific way of doing things: Lay clothes out, iron them, shower, hair maintenance, put on clothes, make the bed, head out. Muscle memory made his routine second nature. In his husband's absence, however, everything just felt...off. Like everything in his apartment had been moved two inches to the left when he wasn't looking, and he'd forgotten how to function.

He'd been trying to spend as little time in the confines of his shared home as possible.

As if summoned telepathically, his music was interrupted by an incoming FaceTime call from The Man in the Chair. He involuntarily felt the corner of his mouth twitch and he mentally kicked himself, schooling his features before accepting the call.

"What's going on?" Dhan said after clearing his throat, "Any updates on the text transcripts?"

Zeke quirked a brow at him, "I mean yeah, but why do you look so...wet?"

Dhan glanced at the smaller version of himself on the screen in confusion. His dark, damp hair flopped over his brows and droplets of water rolled down his face, staining his shirt. The one time chose to wear something other than black.

He did, in fact, look like he'd just survived a drowning attempt. Dhan sighed in deep exhaustion at the prospect of putting in effort to dry his hair, after already using so much energy to just get up and get dressed.

"I just showered, sorry for...this," he motioned to himself tiredly, "I'll get around to it. Eventually."

Zeke let out a good natured chuckle, rapidly typing something on his desktop keyboard as he spoke, "Hey, I'm not judging you! I just figured you were going for a new look. I think we all had an emo phase once, right? Who's to say you can't have another one at like...what? Thirty--?"

"--Ok, I get it, I look like shit." Dhan couldn't help the snort that escaped from him at Zeke's ribbing, "We can't always look neat and polished like you, rich boy."

Zeke's eyes flickered to Dhan's face on the screen for a moment and he laughed, "I was born with the natural ability to look good. Money has nothing to do with it, bro."

...Bro?

Dhan felt something in his brain twitch. Like the disappointment a child might feel when a parent denies them their favorite candy. He brushed it off. Or maybe he filed it away for later. He couldn't really be honest with himself about whether it was worth exploring further.

"The transcripts?" Dhan continued, rolling his eyes semi-jokingly, "What's going on with them?"

Zeke said nothing, but Dhan heard the telltale *ding* of a new message on his phone.

"I've just dropped the file into the shared drive, and I sent you the keycode for it." Zeke finally stopped typing to face the screen directly, "It's about 238 pages of text, but I've highlighted the important parts between July 3rd and September 22nd. Hopefully that makes it a little easier to skim."

"Thanks, buddy."

Buddy? The word felt like battery acid in his mouth.

"Buddy?" Zeke grinned, "Now I know you're feeling a bit off, today." When his gaze suddenly softened in sympathy, Dhan had to look away to feign interest in towel drying his hair. The younger man's kindness was disarming sometimes. Most times. It took a while for Dhan to get comfortable with it.

He didn't understand what Zeke got out of this other than an occasional gaming partner and someone to bounce bad jokes off of. Sometimes Zeke looked at Dhan with so much genuine care that it made him want to scream.

Stop looking at me like that! Stop fucking pitying me! I'm not a pitiful person. I've been at this for longer than you. Stop making me want to spill my guts.

Stop looking at me like I mean something to you.

"I still feel weird. Like, uh...Like my brain and my body are on different hemispheres, you know?" He confessed, intentionally avoiding eye contact.

Zeke hummed, "I've been there. Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to lasso my brain back into its rightful place, and it just won't budge. Other times I feel like I'm scattered everywhere like little particles of dust while my body stays stuck in this chair. I almost wish that were true. Maybe then this space wouldn't feel so suffocating sometimes."

There was an amicable silence between the two men as Dhan absentmindedly dried his hair.

Finally, he broke the silence and started to ask, "Have you, you know, tried going outside again since the--"

"No." Zeke flatly responded, instinctively pressing his hand to the scar on his forehead, "It's just...I'm not ready yet."

It was understandable. If Dhan's first time facing his fears in ages resulted in an injury that required a concussion check up, he'd be hesitant to try it again, too. Draping the towel over his shoulders, Dhan rubbed the back of his neck.

"It was impressive taking the chance even though you were afraid, by the way. I don't know if I ever, like, said that. To you. About that."

Zeke offered a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. It didn't look right on him. Dhan awkwardly rushed to add, "And, hey, you're gonna have to check out my gaming setup sometime. You can only do that if you visit. You can't get jealous when you see it, though."

He grinned at Dhan. A wide, toothy grin that made his stomach swoop, “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that. But, seriously, don’t get too cocky. You’ve already seen mine and I’m still adding to it.”

At this, Dhan couldn’t help but smile back at his enthusiasm, even if it wasn’t as big and bright as Zeke’s. Though, could anyone’s smile match his? He allowed his mind to wander for a moment, indulging in the idea that he could never find another person who smiles at him like he does. It was nice to forget the complications of his existence for a while.

“I’m gonna, um, work on these…these files,” Dhan said, coming back into focus to find Zeke working on something off screen. “Thanks for sending them over.”

Zeke offered a casual salute in response, “Anytime, Rana. Call me if you need anything!”

He knew that, to Zeke, that last sentence meant multiple things. And Dhan had to wonder if he knew the effect he had on people.

Did he have this effect on people? Or did he just have this effect on him?

Dhan leaned against the sink again as the call ended and took a deep breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. He ran his fingers through his damp hair.

Suddenly—for reasons that were completely unrelated to the previous conversation—he found the motivation to get himself together for the day.

#dhan rana #zeke wallace #dhan x zeke #zeke x dhan #dhanzeke #found nbc #Naja writes #sometimes Dhan looks at Zeke in a certain way and I'm like wwwwwwhaaaatcha doin bud?#that's illegal you can't do that buddy

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