Outed! {{Fabiano}}

There was a rustling sound, faint but distinguishable. Nate could hear the whooshing of his heart beat in his ears. His head felt full and heavy, his throat thick; the taste of blood on his tongue. He tried to open his eyes, but he couldn’t. It was so dark and he tried to piece together what had just happened, something shifted next to him and it was then that the events of five minutes ago came rushing back.

Nate tensed, panic returning as he reached his hands up quickly to protect his head, his lip felt swollen but he still couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, the pressure in his head growing. He drew in a hoarse gasp through his lips but it had no sooner reached his lungs than it was escaping in a pained groan. “No,” the words that left his lips sounded muffled to his own ears.

There was a moment where he feared he was underwater, and the confusion and panic that surfaced from this spurred enough adrenaline to cause Nate to pull back and he tried to sit up. His hand connected with something. A wall? Or a person? “Please,” he managed, voice straining over the whooshing sound, but barely above a whisper. He moved his hands to the ground as the world seemed to tilt suddenly, unsure whether he was falling or he was being moved.

He managed to open his eyes, but everything before him was a blur, and he frowned confused as he tried to make out what he was seeing. His thoughts seemed to trickle away as he tried to focus on the blurry image before him, and he tried to hold on to what had just happened, why he was sitting on the ground, but he couldn’t seem to get his mind to hold a single thought. There was someone else, sitting in front of him but it took Nate a long time to register that they were even there. It was as if they were moving in slow motion, Nate watched the figures lips in confusion before other features of the person’s face became clear. Nate blinked slowly as he recognised FABIANO PERINI ’s face, it moved in and out of focus as his head throbbed.

"Nate, it's me man. It's Fabiano."

Nate tried to focus on the face, but even though he recognised the face, the words made little sense. The look of panic and pain in Nate’s eyes shifted to one of recognition as he stared back at the other Quidditch player’s face, half-lit by his wand. Yet it took Fabiano repeating his name for Nate to really comprehend what was being said to him.

"It's Fabiano," Nate felt his own shoulders relax slightly as his green eyes tried to take in the area around Fab. For some reason he couldn’t make sense of his depth of vision and when he tried to figure out how far the wall behind Fab was, a sharp pain surged in his head behind his eyes. He closed his eyes, frowning heavily, trying to focus on the older man’s words. "Whoever it was that did this to you, they're gone now. You're safe," his heart was still thudding quickly as he tried to pull in another breath, however a dull ache in his chest and the sharp pain that occurred when his breath reached a certain point caused him to take shallower breaths than normal. A flutter of panic caused his grip to tighten on the material of Fab’s jacket. "They got you pretty bad though so I need to take you to the hospital."

Nate adjusted his grip on Fab’s arm, he tried to shake his head but barely made any movement. When he spoke, his voice was tight and sharp, “Fab?” He managed but he wasn’t sure if that was what he had wanted to say, he couldn’t remember what he wanted to say. He felt his chest growing tighter at the realisation that he couldn’t remember what he had wanted to tell the man, he wasn’t even sure if he had wanted to say anything, and it caused panic to rise within him. His vision had gone momentarily blurry and he realised only as he felt the tickling on his cheek that he had started to cry.

He drew in a shaky breath and whimpered at the pain that followed before trying to counteract the feeling by breathing out slowly. Nate only vaguely registered the command to hold on tight as his head rested heavily against the hand that was placed behind it just then. His grip on Fab was weak, but he fought against the pain in his injured arm as best he could. He managed to hold on as they apparated. Nate was accustomed to pain, he had had his fair share of injuries but he had never felt like this before, as if everything around him was falling away.

He barely felt it when they landed, the pain causing a sensation of euphoria that only added to the confusion. He managed to open his eyes, Fab’s face inches from his own. Nate blinked, eyes going in and out of focus as he mumbled a muffled, “you need to get back on your broom.” His eyes managed to stay open for a moment longer before the dazed smile on his lips faded and his arms dropped to his sides, letting go of the Quidditch player as he passing out for the second time that night.

The next morning.

It had taken the healers much convincing for Nate to be allowed to sit up, and although he knew that getting out of bed was a huge no, he had promised that if he felt unwell he would let one of the mediwitches know. When he had woken that morning he had been read a list of the injuries he had sustained the night before, concussion, a number of superficial head injuries (including a bust lip and black eye), internal bleeding, a couple of broken ribs and a sprained arm. Although Nate could remember clearly how he had received the latter injury, his memory was foggy from the moment he had left the pitch until he had woken up.

His head still throbbed, and his arm was now bandaged up, but he tried to act as he normally did with the healers asked him how he was, as if everything was alright. He had asked how he had got to the hospital, wondering if one of his team mates had found him in the state he was in, but he had yet to receive any messages from them so he figured they were all probably nursing hangovers. He had wondered if part of his own headache had been due to a hangover, maybe some drunken brawl, but Nate knew that he wasn’t the type to get involved in fights, even when drunk, and he certainly didn’t drink enough. Still it had been a comfort to him when the healers were able to tell him that no alcohol had been found in his system.

He watched the mediwitch who had just entered lower a potion on to the dresser next to his bed and obediently swallowed it down, lowering the vial when he hear a tapping at the window. The mediwitch, whose name was Cecille opened the blinds to reveal an owl hovering with newspaper grasped firmly in its talons. Nate reached over for his wallet, forgetting about his ribs in is haste to get some money out as Cecille let the owl in.

“Watch it, Mr Sperling, you’re supposed to be staying still,” she scolded him as the owl landed on the end of his bed, having dropped the daily prophet in his lap.

“Sorry,” Nate apologised quickly as he paid the bird, putting the money into the leather pouch as the bird hopped closer. He ignored Cecille’s looks an criticism as he unfurled the paper and had turned it over to the back to read about yesterday’s match by the time she was returning from closing the window behind the owl. She left soon after and Nate had just begun to read when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.” He called. As the door opened, Nate looked up from an image of himself and FABIANO PERINI shaking hands at the start of the match to see the man now entering his hospital room.

It wasn’t that Nate was entirely surprised to see Fabiano there, but he also hadn’t expected his first visitor to be anyone other than a teammate or manager. He had yet to talk to anyone about his attack and his brother hadn’t shown up upon being contacted by the hospital. Yet the smile on Nates face was genuine, even if he wasn’t sure why or how Fab would have known he was there. “Hey... I thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing today. You look... better."

It was the other man’s choice of words that caused a gentle frown to form, resulting in a painful ache above his eye. He stared at Fab for a moment and as he did the foggy image of Perini’s concerned face inches from his own caused a spark of something to ignite in Nate’s chest. Had it been Perini who had brought him to the hospital?

“Hey,” Nate’s own voice sounded like it was barely there. He watched Perini look to the daily prophet and pull a face. Nate found this odd.

"So you have seen it then?"

Nate wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he was still recovering from the concussion, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. Though perhaps it was just a feeling, and it would pass. “Prophet just arrived. Haven’t read anything about the match yet. I take it it’s not a good review?” He managed a warmer smile, but his eyebrows were raised in question. He had learned a long time ago, at the start of his career to take match reviews with a pinch of salt, but Nate also appreciated the humbling nature of well written commentaries sometimes. He wasn’t big on tables and statistics, but that wasn’t what quidditch was for him, so they didn’t matter.

“I wasn't talking about the match.” Perini's voice was steady but Nate thought he detected a strain in it as the man spoke. Nevertheless the remark caused the question in Nate's eyes to shift to curiosity as his brow furrowed. The older man reached into his pocket and pulled out what appeared to be a photograph, moving towards him slowly. Yet it was the look on Perini's face that caused something in Nate's gut to tense; a thoughtful look that lead him to think that bad news was on its way.

“Last night, when I found you...” Nate's brow twitched, so Perini had been the one who had found him. Nate opened his mouth to thank him, but found his lips pursing as Fabiano continued. “I found this on the ground.” Nate looked to the photograph feeling something inside him tense. He didn't know what he would see on it, but the sense of foreboding he had just gained from looking down to it caused him to believe that deep down he knew he wasn't going to like what he saw. Perini's words only helped to increase the foreboding, “I figured you wouldn’t want the hospital staff to see it, so I held on to it for you—”

Nate reached out his uninjured hand to take the photograph and slowly turned it over. For a moment, it was all Nate could do to stare at the picture, at first it didn't make sense to him, but slowly the image of himself kissing another man was so ingrained in his vision it was playing over in his mind without him needing to look any longer at the real image. He realised in a delay that Perini was speaking but the man had stopped speaking before the words had sunk in. Nate's eyes trailed from the photo to the newspaper, discarded in his lap.

Slowly as if on auto-pilot he turned the photograph over and lowered it to the bed before flicking one-handed through the paper. His heart had begun to beat an anxious rhythm in his chest- one he only experienced before a match he was particularly worried about- and his chest felt tight, as if the air in the room was thinning, but the words and the image at the top of the gossip section were shockingly clear. There was another copy of the photograph, this one much larger than the original, and it was undeniable that it was he who was pulling back the other man, cupping his cheeks and saying something before leaning in and kissing him. Nate swallowed as he forced his eyes to the text and began to read.

It was a surreal feeling, reading something about him that wasn't about his abilities in quidditch or as a captain. Nate couldn't be sure of how he felt, but his heart was still beating quickly and his brow was furrowed as his eyes moved slowly down the article. Slowly he began to make sense of the ball of tension in his stomach, recognising it as nausea and anxiety. He felt a wave of desperation and fear and anger pulse through him, but what quelled any response to this was the mention of his family, what would they be thinking now of their pureblood son, acting out, being rebellious? It was the sentences along these lines that cause a sharp breath to escape Nate's throat. He swallowed in a bid to ease the tension in his throat before letting out a soft shaky sigh. It was this and not the degrading remarks about his sexuality that really hit under the skin. He could make up better insults, but where his family was concerned, the truth was worse than anything he could think up.

When he finally finished reading the article, it took a moment longer before he spoke and he surprised himself with how calm he sounded. "So that's it then." He managed. This explained why his twin had not shown, his brother had made it clear years ago what he would do to Nate if he didn't change his mind, and now. . .Zach had been the reason Nate had never come out to anyone since that day. Nate felt a wave of loneliness suddenly crash over him, if his twin wouldn't show, then nobody in his family would show. No doubt they had all now seen the article. Silence was their answer.

He drew in another breath before letting it out shakily trying to fight against the crippling sense of dread that realising he was on his own had suddenly dealt him, "uhm," he cleared his throat before turning his gaze to Fabiano, "thank you." He managed in a tense voice, unable to shake the feeling he was holding his breath. "Thank you for finding me," the words were difficult to push from his lips but he needed to say them. If it weren't for the other man, he would still be dear-knows where, still bleeding out, or worse.

“No problem, Sperling,” he barely registered the other man’s words, even though his eyes were on him. “You would have done the same for me.” Nate nodded, but he couldn’t be sure what he was nodding for. Yes, he probably would have helped a fellow player out had he found Perini in a similar position to himself, but right now, Nate’s mind was too clouded to really know this. He was having a hard enough time trying to make sense of the numb, almost disconnected feeling he seemed to be experiencing just then to think of hypothetical situations in which his character would be questioned. He was trying not to let certain phrases in the article linger for too long in his mind, when really they seemed to already have started a never-ending loop in there.

He took little notice of the silence that had fallen just then, not that he wouldn’t have liked to fill it, but he suddenly didn’t have the energy or motivation too. The article had seemed to suck any sense of bravado he had been trying to cling to before. Then as it slowly dawned on him that he should probably say something, if only to change the subject, he registered Perini moving closer to the bed.

Nate looked up at him, unsure of when he had let his gaze fall back to the article, not really seeing it but forcing himself now to take in the features of the man standing nearer to him.

“Are you ok?” Nate could feel the breath, almost a scoff get stuck in his throat. There was a terrible moment where he thought he might laugh at the question but he was glad that it was swallowed down in an instant and he was spared the need to answer in the form of the other man continuing on quickly. “I mean, obviously you’re not ok,” the older man gestured to him and Nate found himself remembering the reason why he was here in the first place, feeling the bandages around him and resisting the urge to flex the hand of his injured arm. “But about the article I mean, since I’m assuming you didn’t want people to find out.”

Nate knew he was staring, he couldn’t help it, the words just didn’t seem to want to go in, and he hoped that by watching them being spoken it would help somehow to make them so. But as Fabiano continued, he couldn’t help but feel all the more disconnected from what the other man was saying. Was this shock, was he in shock?

“I’m sure you could take legal action against the paper. And the aurors might find the person who did this to you in the process, . . . Sorry, . . .What I meant to say is, if you need something, I’m happy to help.”

Again, Nate found himself nodding, and once again, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be nodding, then as if his body wanted to shake things up a bit he found himself shaking his head before he let out a soft shaky breath. “Thank you,” he managed, and he wondered if he meant it, or if he was just saying it because it felt like the right thing to be saying. Silence fell once more but Nate knew that he had to be the one to break it this time, he just didn’t quite know what to say. What could he say really? This hadn’t been how he had wanted the world to know, had he ever wanted anyone to know? Sure the odd hook up now and then had been fun, but he had never dared to be serious about his sexuality to anyone, least of all for the fear that it would cut him away from the things that mattered in his life, his family, his team, and now. . .

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” he managed, his voice steady despite his heart thudding, “but, I think I’m still trying to. . .this is all. . .alot.” He gave a mild gesture to the room around him and the article still resting open on his lap. He reached out and closed it, his throat feeling suddenly very dry and he lowered his gaze to somewhere in the middle distance, feeling his heart thud lightly in his chest as he managed, “I just didn’t expect this.” The words sounded foreign, like he was listening to them on a radio across the room with the volume turned down.