Chapter Text
Wuyang raised his staff up into the air victoriously, wiping sweat from his forehead as he shouted in excitement for having finally passed one of the orientation tests. It had taken days since the Ye siblings had arrived in Overwatch as new recruits, and unsurprisingly, while Anran had passed every orientation trial with flying colors, he was just barely making progress.
“Did ya see that, sis? Finally I…”
Pausing, Wuyang turned over his shoulder. On the other side of the room, Anran sat on a bench, shoulders hunched and back bent as she sat uncomfortably rigid with her hands clenching onto her knees. The entire session, she had barely said a word. Now, he'd finished and passed, and even then, she didn't look at him.
“Hey, Anran.” Wuyang lowered his staff, sauntering up to her with increasing concern. “You look really tense right now. Can you look at me?” Even when she's doing pretty bad, she hides it really well. Something must be seriously wrong for her to be showing it.
With a heavy sigh, Anran raised her head and met her brother's gaze, exhaustion clear as day on her face despite the fact she hadn't even done anything.
“Headache…” she grunted.
“Must be some wild headache to have you on the verge of bruising your knees,” Wuyang pointed out quickly. “Please tell me, what's wrong, seriously?”
Blinking furiously, Anran took some time to gather her words, her stiff breaths becoming stable as she fought herself to calm down, her stiffened hands easing up. Finally, closing her eyes in disbelief, she managed to reply.
“Wuyang.” Her voice was hushed. “I think that… the supply crate that had my medication got sent to Gibraltar… and probably is destroyed now… and…”
A frown instantly stuck itself to Wuyang’s face. “Oh. Oh no, oh no.” His jaw trembled as it all hit him. “You ran out?! Sis, why didn’t you say anything?!”
“I don't know how I'm supposed to bring that up with Overwatch!” she objected quickly. “They might not want me to be here anymore if they find out I–”
“Anran, not everyone else is like our parents! You need to tell someone so we can get you back on your dose!!” Wuyang dropped his staff on the ground carelessly, reaching a hand forward to gauge Anran's temperature. Her brows lowered as he pressed her forehead carefully. “How many days have you been off?”
“One.” A short, weak laugh escaped her lips. “And I’m already feeling the withdrawal.”
“Have the compulsions returned?” Wuyang fretted, removing his hand and instead lowering it to help her stand up. Naturally, in all of her stubbornness, Anran pushed his hand away and stood on her own.
“Not yet, it's just this headache… and feeling like I'm about to throw up.” Anran placed a hand above her stomach briefly. “I'll just go get some water and lay down for a few minutes, then I'll be okay.”
Wuyang stared at her, appalled. “Anran, if you don't get back on your meds, you won't be in any condition to help Overwatch at all. Come on, think this through!”
“I can tough it out until I come up with a solution.” She completely ignored him.
“Anran!” Wuyang shouted this time. “If you don't talk to someone, whether it's Winston or Vivian or–or anyone, then I'm going to tell them myself.”
Finally, that seemed to be enough to get her attention, for she turned her head to face Wuyang, an unreadable yet intense expression on her face.
“Wuyang, I don't need this dragging me down.” She spoke clearly, but the cracks were audible, he could hear them without even having to try. “I will handle it myself.”
Spread thin between overwhelming frustration and dire concern, Wuyang scoffed at her. “Fine, see where that gets you!” He pushed past her in a rush, heading straight for the exit. “Because sooner or later, everyone else will notice, and then you're going to be the one who has to explain why you thought you could handle it ‘all by yourself’ like you always think you can!”
Too worn down by her internal pain to argue any further, Anran let him go, staring at the ground with hollow eyes.
I didn't expect the withdrawal symptoms to be so aggressive so soon. I can't slip up again. I need to put out my best no matter how bad the headaches get.
She halfheartedly rubbed her forehead with a thumb, a new wave of nausea resurging.
…And try not to throw up.