More than a migraine [Dominic fic]

Dominic experienced his first migraine at thirteen. It struck him like a train wreck one Monday afternoon, following a weekend of sleepovers and late-night gaming with friends. Out of nowhere, his head felt as though it was going to explode, and he had to leave school early. His mother had taken the day off to look after him. Despite the throbbing pain, there was a small comfort in being back in his childhood bed, with his mom gently wiping the sweat from his forehead, reassuring him that everything would be okay—that the pain would soon pass.

Now, at 25, the pain was worse than ever. He had felt the migraine creeping up on him for days but had somehow managed to suppress it - but it all came crashing down the moment he read the article about the inauguration of His Royal Highness Julien Armini. Even on such a ‘joyous’ occasion, the King couldn’t resist condemning the EFA. Dominic had just reached the lines ‘The House of Armani and the Godia Warriors vows to ensure that the perpetrator of this horrible crime is brought to the highest standard of justice and will allocate all necessary resources to guarantee that this outcome is achieved. In order to honor his name, we hereby present our own guards to ensure that this shall be accomplished’ when the train wreck had hit him once again.

There was little comfort in the memory of his childhood bed and his mother telling him that the pain would pass. Now, Dominic was alone.

He lay in bed, drenched in sweat, each breath slow and deliberate as he tried to calm the nausea swirling in his stomach. The curtains were pulled tight, casting the room in a heavy darkness, and his eyes stayed shut, though it did nothing to ease the tension building behind them. The pain radiated from the left side of his head, down to his neck, tightening with every pulse. There was too much pressure—too much, like his skull could crack open at any second.

He wished he could just fall asleep, escape into unconsciousness, but even that small relief felt impossible. Anxiety gnawed at him, kept him awake. About the Godia Warriors, about the Elite, about the mission nearing, full of risks. There was no saying if it would work out or not, yet the refugees put their lives in his hands. People were counting on him, and here he was, trapped in his own body, unable to act or think clearly through the haze of agony

His thoughts swirled, overwhelming him until the need to do something—anything—became unbearable. In a desperate attempt, he decided to do something he rarely if ever did anymore. Slowly, he forced himself out of bed, his body screaming in protest, the sudden motion sending nausea rising to his throat. He dropped to his knees, his head spinning, almost throwing up as the room tilted around him. Facing the bed, Dominic folded his trembling hands on the edge of it, the action feeling foreign and awkward. He took a slow, shaky breath and closed his eyes, though the pounding behind them continued relentlessly.

His mouth was dry as he tried to remember the words, the ones he hadn’t uttered properly since he was a boy. “My Goddess Iosta, bringer of Light, giver of Life…” His voice was barely a whisper, breathless and shaky.

For a moment, the words faltered. What would he even ask for? His mind spun, his thoughts unclear.

“Please,” he mumbled, his throat tightening as his heart pounded. “Cover us with your protective hands, illuminate our way to safety and-” His eyes stung, and he squeezed them shut tighter. He nudged his head against his folded hands. “Fuck.” 

What was the point? Iosta only listened to humans. There was a reason he was sitting here in the darkness. He felt pathetic, sick - not from the churning in his stomach or the throbbing in his head.

“I’m just-” he inhaled sharply, his breath trembling as his throat tightened. His voice cracked when he spoke again, the words barely leaving his lips: “I’m just so tired.”

He let his folded hands fall, his arms collapsing onto the bed, and buried his face into the mattress. His body shook with the sobs he had been holding back for too long. The tears came, hot and unrelenting, and he didn’t bother trying to stop them this time.

The darkness around him felt like it was swallowing him whole, and for a moment, he wished it would. As he cried into the silence, he heard the faint memory of his mom telling him that it would be okay - the pain would soon pass.

There was no comfort in the memory. It was just that. The pain was the only thing, he didn’t have to remember.

Climbing back up into bed, Dominic curled up under the blanket. His breath more shallow than before and the tears not stopping. But at least, in the end, he finally fell asleep.