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[duke_of_illusions]

It's an early evening, back in the club. Barma has sent Al on his own, to make friends, to try something new.

Dodo is a breath away.

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[duke_of_illusions]

"All right."

Switching it off, he releases the rope binding his hair, then the main stay quite suddenly, dropping him a few feet so he nearly hits the ground.

"We're inverting you. Breathe."

[al_truism]

Al yelps, but nods quickly, still coughing a bit. He takes a few deep breaths.

[duke_of_illusions]

Gerard makes a quick and dirty loop around one ankle, lifting it up slowly, then the other, so Al is hanging upside down.

"You won't swallow anything this way, it'll stay in your nasal passage and mouth. Panic, less risk- and no need to restrain your head. I can keep it up and then do this without working your neck."

[al_truism]

"Sir." He nods, still breathing, and spits out a little lingering water.

[duke_of_illusions]

He smiles, and crouches down, taking his ankles and lifting him completely upside down.

[al_truism]

He whimpers, shuts his eyes.

[duke_of_illusions]

He fixes the tube back in, tapes it down once more, and gives him a few long seconds to get scared.

[al_truism]

He makes a low, thin noise before he realizes he's making it, opens his eyes to watch for the moment he turns the water on.

[duke_of_illusions]

Click. There it is, up the tube, into his nose.

This is going to hurt.

[al_truism]

He'd scream if he had the breath. This time he thrashes.

[duke_of_illusions]

He keeps it up for seven seconds, this time, then turns it off, tipping it so it drains out of the tube quickly. Leaving Al to hang there and choke on air.

[al_truism]

Al coughs and wheezes, gagging on nothing, and tries to breathe again. He's trembling, eyes shut tight.

It felt like eternity.

[duke_of_illusions]

"Please. Please, sweetheart, nod if you can do one more, just for me."

He cajoles, like sugar, kneeling down to kiss his ear.

[al_truism]

Al sputters up more water, spits it out, and nods, shaking.

It's the kisses that do it.

[duke_of_illusions]

"This is going to be worse."

He turns away. There's the crack-snap of a soda can opening.

[al_truism]

Al whimpers, recognizing the sound.

He'd probably make some smart remark, but he's still concentrating on breathing.

[duke_of_illusions]

Into the equipment it goes. Enjoy trying to breathe out ginger ale, Al. It actually foams out of the mouth, more agitated by the breathing, not solid enough to be spat. Drips down into his hair and eyes.

[al_truism]

It's terrible, burning and impossible to make go away. He thrashes at first before it becomes sheer panic -- and then terror. Even if he knows Gerard will protect him, his brain is convinced it's going to die.

He fights.

[duke_of_illusions]

He gives it twenty seconds.

Then decides he probably wouldn't be able to safeword if he tried, pulls the cannula out and pulls him upright, so he can spit up pop.

[al_truism]

Al coughs it up, wheezing and sagging in the restraints, his face streaked with it all. He tries to get his bearings and is unable to. Even with his air back, he's not all there.

[duke_of_illusions]

He drops his feet down, springs him from the point too, and helps sit him down onto the ground gently, so he can sit and lean into him.

[al_truism]

He crawls to him, shaky, in need of contact.

[duke_of_illusions]

"Come on, baby, let's get you home."

Getting that chest harness off him too.

[al_truism]

He relaxes somewhat with the touches, the sound of his voice.

[duke_of_illusions]

Gerard scoops him up, bridal style, and walks him out to the club- where Barma has arrived to collect him to go back to the hotel.