Too Late..?
Fenton couldn’t describe the sense of dread that weighed on his heart. Tears streamed down his face as he held the barely moving duck in his arms. Donald coughed weakly, trying with futile attempts to catch his breath. He wheezed and coughed between each breath, weak and trying to hold on.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I should have…” Fenton’s voice trailed off into nothing but pathetic whimpering. He had seen Donald in trouble and he had failed to call his Gizmoduck suit in time to save him. And now here he was in his arms, in critical condition. The tan duck could feel warm blood when holding the back of his head, and his heart only sunk more. He didn’t even know how this happened, it all went by in a blur.
Donald reached a weak, shaky hand and placed it on Fenton’s own. He managed to smile tenderly at Fenton despite his condition, rubbing him with his thumb.
“Hey, don’t beat yourself up about it. Y-you couldn’t have known. It’s not your fault.” Donald had to pause between every few words, his lungs stinging and coughing tiny splatters of blood. Fenton squeezed the other duck’s hand tightly, but not too much so as to not bring him any more pain than he was already going through.
“I swear I’ll find out who did this. We can get them together-”
Fenton found his words caught in his throat. Donald was nodding along to his words, but his eyes were slowly beginning to drift closed and the grip on his hand was slipping. With one last shaky breath, Donald stopped breathing altogether.
“Donald??” Fenton shook him gently, then desperately as tears pooled down his cheeks. “No, nononono- You can’t be, you can’t-” Fenton sobbed. He buried his face into Donald’s chest, a blubbering mess of tears. How could he have let this happen, this was all his fault. All his-
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“AH!” Fenton shot awake in his bed. Harsh and ragged breathing shook him to his very core. His hand gripped his shirt fabric tightly, feeling his heart hammering in his chest. Hot tears stained his cheeks, and even now they continued to cascade.
He held his face in his hands. It wasn’t the first time he had a nightmare about being too late to save someone, but this one had felt so real. He could still see Donald’s weakened face as he took his last few breaths right in his arms, and felt his blood-stained feathers.
“HEY, what’s the big id-”
Unbeknownst to Fenton, Donald slowly awoke by the former’s slight shaking of the bed when he had jolted awake. Donald was about to start fuming until he noticed the way Fenton hid his face in his hands and the way his shoulders rattled with quiet sobs.
“Fenton?” Donald’s feelings of anger dissipated. He reached a hand and placed it softly on his shoulder, and he could feel Fenton’s breath hitch and his shoulders tense just at his touch. “Fenton, what is it??”
Fenton couldn’t answer at first. His bottom beak was quivering, and hot tears were stinging his eyes that he tried to blink away. Finally, with a bit of struggle, he turned to face Donald.
Donald gasped softly when he finally turned to look at him. Fenton’s eyes were red and puffy with tears, his feathered hair a tousled mess, and his shoulders quaking.
“Whoa, whoa… What happened?” He asked with concern laced in his tone. He inched closer toward Fenton, before being nearly knocked off the bed when the tan duck threw his arms around him, turning his head to the side and pressing against his chest.
“Fenton, what are you-”
“Shh.” Fenton shushed him, listening closely. He was listening for something, and an overwhelming feeling of relief washed over him when he found it. Donald’s heart was beating, in fact, it seemed to be beating fast. Donald had flushed when he had hugged him so suddenly.
“I’m sorry, Donald.” His voice was just above a whisper. He continued to hug Donald, he wanted, no- needed to keep hearing that heart of his beating.
“Have a bad dream…?” Was all Donald could guess. He wasn’t sure why Fenton was crying, or why he was hugging him so tightly. But what he did know was that he needed some comfort. Reaching down, he stroked his back gently and Fenton sighed.
“Yeah. I-I don’t really wanna talk about it. Could we just… stay like this for a while?”
Donald planted a kiss on Fenton’s head, and the latter knew he could take that as a yes. With only comforting words and touches between them, Fenton began to drift softly to sleep in Donald’s arms.