He clawed at it, yanking it out to a cacophony of voices suddenly snapping and shouting and making him dizzy.
He tried covering his ears with his hands, but there was something in his other arm that pulled and tugged until he could get rid of it too, unfamiliar fingers trying to hold his hands and keep them away from his own body.
The touch felt wrong.
He shrugged out of it only for it to return, stronger. He lashed out with his head to the side and opened his mouth, teeth connecting with warm flesh smelling faintly of sugar and smoke.
“Motherfucker,” he heard someone hiss, releasing his hand and stepping back heavily.
He still couldn’t see anything, his closed lids providing the perfect backdrop to the slew of images he couldn’t make heads or tails of. Snakes. Machines. People. Blu…
“Teddy…” he called out again and felt another hand on him.
Small, warm. Covering his cheek. Brushing over where his cursemark was still pulsing slightly and making it even harder to open his eyes.
“You all need to be quiet,” the owner of the hand said, and Wren knew he should know who that was. It felt familiar the way few other things did.
He could see colors and glitter in his mind. He could somehow hear the tone of that voice when it wasn’t quiet but booming through small spaces. He had a scent in mind too. And a warmth in the pit of his stomach. He just didn’t have a face, or a name.
“Rich coming from you,” someone else said. And the same thing happened. Wren knew and didn’t know at the same time.
“Shut up,” the first voice said again, and Wren squeezed his eyes shut tighter, trying to force himself out of whatever haze he was in that was making him forget.
“Blu…” he called, hoping to hear a tiny chirp. Nothing came other than the hushed voices he couldn’t place.
“Yes, Midas, I’m aware,” someone said, and that name slotted things into place for him.
Midas. His brother was there.
The small hands and glitter behind his lids were Black.
The scent of sugar and smoke was Ash.
The haughty voice was Hart, and the tender touch of strong hands was Fix. His family was there. Even if the most important part of it was missing.
He cracked his eyes open and was met with worried faces and tense postures.
“Teddy…” he croaked, and Black made a small cooing sound in the back of his throat, rubbing his shoulder.
“Babes…” Black said.
“Where is he?” Wren asked, desperate for any information he could get. His brothers exchanged looks that made him want to throw up. “Please tell me.”
“He’s in intensive care,” Fix said, his expression calm and placating like it usually was when he spoke to vulnerable people. “We don’t know anything else and they don’t want to say anything to anyone.”
“His team is his next of kin,” Wren said, anxiety spiking again. “Are they here?”
“They’re here and they’re raising hell,” Black said. “The doctors refuse to let them see him and I’m pretty sure one of them is very close to dismembering whoever gets in their way next.”
“Eerie,” Wren said, his mind spinning with the information and the haze that was eating away at the corners of it.
Had he seen Teddy be taken away? Had he seen him hurt or was it just his imagination? The venom in the machine had made him see all sorts of things he didn’t want to see. Which ones were real?
“Love him. Super cool,” Black said, trying to ease the tension, but it wasn’t working.
“I need to go look for him,” Wren said, pushing off the pillows and groaning as pain exploded all over his body. “Shit.”
“You are not going anywhere,” Hart said, walking closer until he was standing at the foot of Wren’s bed.
