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Doc wakes up in the middle of the night and he can't breathe, it feels like his chest is caving in, and all he can think is 'Olivier is in trouble.' It's a long forgotten, or rather repressed, instinct to drag himself out of bed and find the other man. Desperate in his barely conscious state, he doesn't seem to remember the current state of their relationship. All he can think about is that his partner is distressed and he needs to be there. A distant part of his brain is screaming about how this isn't his job anymore, Olivier is not his anything, stop. But it's drowned out by the need to hold his lover close, soothing him back into the sleep he's always so short on. His sleep muddled brain is confused by why he isn't already curled up around the ginger, but it's dismissed, unimportant as he gets closer and closer to Lion's dorm.
The dorm is eerily silent compared to the distress that is ravaging his own mind and body, but it's not uncommon for Olivier to keep as quiet as possible, taught from a young age that it doesn't matter how upset he might be, he can never show it. Stepping through the door, he notes absentmindedly that what appears to be the kitchenette's light is on, but he doesn't particularly care about it at the moment, instead curling up around the other man's shaking form in bed, arms wrapping around his waist like it's something he does all the time, instead of something that last happened so many years ago.
Olivier's shock and confusion is like ice water through his veins, but he doesn't stop to think why he might be so surprised by this action. He tugs the other man closer, tucking his face over his shoulder to murmur in his ear softly, kisses following the words closely. "Oli, habibi, it's okay, I'm here. Whatever it is, it's over. Let's try and relax now, get some sleep before the sun rises."
The shock intensifies, takes a darker turn, and Olivier twists in his grip, blue eyes red-rimmed and wide-eyed as they stare up at him.
The ginger man is still shaking, almost more so than when Gustave arrived, and he frowns, shifting a hand to wipe away the tears that still cling to his freckled cheeks. He doesn't understand why the other man squirms, trying to put space between them, and he's not enthralled by the idea either. He wants to hold the other close, and has always adored how open to affection Olivier has been, even if he's never stated it.
"Gustave? I. What are you-?" The brown haired man’s own words are swallowed, preemptively cut off by the wobbly voice of his lover and it deepens his frown. Why wouldn't he be here? He's never been the kind of man to ignore Olivier's pain, even when they had been in the middle of a fight. He knows there are some soulmates who are so cruel to one another, letting the hurt fester for no other reason than pride, but he's not that person, and never will be. Right?
Brows furrowing, he cups Olivier's cheek, tipping his face up so that brown eyes can meet blue. "Of course I'm here, Oli, why wouldn't I be? You're upset." The words are stated so matter of factly, as if there will never be any doubt that of course if Olivier is upset, Gustave will be attempting to support him, no matter how much distance might be between them.
Something about his words break the other man, as his features twist in despair, mirroring the deluge of emotions that Doc feels echoing through him. The only word to describe it is absolute and unending agony.
The medic can feel the shaky inhale that stutters and shatters into a sob and even if he doesn't understand what's going on at all, he holds him close, tucks the other Frenchman into his chest, which seems to be the last thing Lion can tolerate as he clings to him, hands grasping desperately at his shoulders as he mumbles unintelligibly in between heartbreaking sobs. He can puzzle out why the other man has clearly not expected him, or even anybody else, to come to his aid, later, when he isn’t falling apart in his arms.
“You’re okay, Olivier, I promise. Nobody is hurt, we’re okay.” He peppers kisses into the messy red hair, mind whirling to think about what could have set him off so badly. “I love you so much, darling. No matter what, I’m here, I’ve got you.”
Those words cause such a conflict in the other man, surprising him so much that the sobs die off abruptly as he once more pushes the doctor away to look at him. A part of Gustave notes that the wild mood swings that Olivier is currently experiencing might be a hint to what’s going on, but the thought slips his mind as the man in question laughs shakily, a hand pressed to his mouth as he becomes more and more hysterical the longer the silence goes on.
“You love me? You, Gustave, love me? When did you hit your head? Or did I? Is this my brain trying to make me happy as I die alone somewhere?” Another giggle escapes the ginger and Doc’s concern increases exponentially. “You don’t love me, not anymore, and that’s. That’s fine, I get it. I don’t blame you.”
Whereas his love seemed to be a breaking point for Olivier, the denial of it is Gustave’s. He cups Olivier’s face in his hands, forcing his gaze to focus on him. “You’re not dying, nor am I, and I love you. I will always love you, Olivier. Even if we weren’t soulmates, I would still want you.” He gives a sweet smile to Lion, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Even if one day you decide you don’t want me, I will always want you. I am yours, forever. Believe me?”
Lion seems to have no words, stunned into speechlessness as he stares into intense brown eyes, a slow nod the only thing he can offer the other man. He’s so overwhelmed. For years, he has dealt with feeling the distaste his soulmate has had for him, but now, the only feelings that he experiences from the other man is the heavy, syrupy feeling of his love and concern. Tomorrow, he might lose this, so would it be so bad to accept this for now? Doc will hate him no matter if he shoves him away now or if he takes advantage of what is being offered to him freely.
“...Love you, Gustave. Always.” He wants just one night of peace, of being wanted. Can he be blamed for that? The guilt and shame is threatening to swallow him up, but he refuses to give into it for once. This is all he will ever have, he wants to enjoy it before it is taken from him again. The guilt can wait.
Doc gives him another soft smile, another soft kiss, and he melts into it, into his arms. Just one night, he keeps thinking. He can have this. “Please hold me? I’m…Tired. So tired, Gus.”
He laughs breathlessly, happily, as the other man simply gathers him closer, more and more kisses being dropped over his face as Olivier clings to him, to the way that the doctor seems to adore him once again. He really doesn’t want to sleep, but it’s harder and harder for him to keep his eyes open for once.
Olivier is finally safe and warm, at home in the medic’s grasp, finally allowing his ever overactive brain to rest.
“Sleep, habibi, I’ll be here when you wake.”
He wakes up alone, the blankets tucked around him as if no-one had joined him at all last night.