Work Text
Being well-known was something Eugene had never planned on. He'd always been sensitive to the spirit world, and he'd always wanted to help the spirits he spoke to. The many fears and anxieties of the dead, how could he not wish to help? To help reassure them, to reassure their families, to bring a little peace to whoever he could.
How it had come to this... fame, he wasn't sure. The word got out he was “legit”, more and more people wanted to have seances with him, more and more people wanted to watch. Suddenly he was selling out venues for single seances, and it... it scared him.
The building's lights were lowered. It was him, in his preferred armchair, sitting at the little round table on stage. He knew who he was supposed to contact, he knew the “customer” (and how he
hated
thinking of people like that, because that was
not
what he wanted them to be) hoped for a channeling. He knew, but still, there was no way to tell how this would go.
Spirits were fickle things. Many were scared, many could be upset or even be angry. Speaking to them and for them was doable, but channeling could be
risky
, downright
dangerous
. Even with the knowledge of security being just behind the curtain, it was terrifying.
Hands hidden beneath his cape, he clenched them, barely easing their tremble. He'd done this before, multiple times, and still it managed to scare him. He had reached out to the spirit beforehand, because he
needed
to, because he couldn't
do this
if the spirit
didn't answer
. A full house, but no spirit? Or not the
desired
spirit? He dreaded the thought of
that
ever happening.
But the mood of the deceased could be unpredictable. And it wasn't like he could afford a real conversation with the spirit before, because that wasn't “good for the
show”
, and he hated that he had agreed to do this again. He wouldn't do this again. He knew the people were hoping for it, wanted it, but he couldn't.
He took a deep breath, the shakiness of it only known to himself. He had prepared the words beforehand, had practised them over and over. He knew what to say and when to say it. He knew what to expect to be answered. He focused on the faint flicker of the candle placed on his table.
Practised words flowed from his lips, and he wasn't even listening. He wasn't listening to the other man, because he could already hear the spirit. He saw them, in the corner of his eyes, and he already didn't like it. He focused on his breathing, glad the people watching behaved and were silent -they were required to, of course, but it was still good they actually
were quiet.
Another deep breath. He could do this. He could do this.
He called out to the spirit, knowing they were there. She. It was this man's late wife he had requested to speak with, her death having been so sudden he didn't get any closure. Eugene already knew she was angry. He just didn't know
how
angry.
His heart was beating rapidly in his chest. Had he always been so scared, doing this? Did he
look
as scared as he felt? Blood rushed loudly through his ears, he kept his gaze glued to the candle, even as he saw the spirit approach the table quickly, faint shimmers of slim hands landing on the smooth wood.
“She's angry.”, he says, his voice loud, too loud, far too loud in his ears. She scoffs, hearing him. He doesn't listen to the widower.
“You want to speak to me?”, he echoed the spirit, and he felt dizzy. He needed to calm down. He couldn't. “Why ever would
you
want to speak to me again?”.
The words of the man didn't matter. The spirit was steaming, and he didn't want to channel her. He did not wish to give her a physical form. He clenched his hands tighter, and he wished he weren't here. He wished he were anywhere
but
here. Subtly, he glanced to the side, towards rows of people. It was too dark to make out anyone, just one mass of darkness.
Were they there? Were they watching? Would they know how scared he was, right now? The first “show” after all that's happened?
The man's voice took a pleading tone. He was asked to channel her, if possible, please. She was clearly willing, she was present enough to have no problems. Eugene just had to let her.
“Are you certain?”, he asked, quietly, uncaring if anyone besides the other man could hear him. “She is quite aggravated. It may not be how you wish.”.
It didn't matter. His words didn't matter. He released a long breath, forcing himself to calm. It would be fine. The security knew what to do, when to step in. If he, while the spirit was in control, tried to get around the table, they were to stop him. Spirits could be ruthless, could be downright
murderous
, so the safety of his client was the most important.
As soon as he let the spirit in, his consciousness took a backseat. He had no control over himself, over his body, over his actions. All he was were thoughts, floating behind the strength of the spirit. He had done this often enough he knew how to force a spirit out, but it was never easy. Especially with such strong ones.
Why was he doing this again? Because the people had wanted to see him again? Because he needed the money again, knowing this would bring in a good amount at once?
Because he wanted to show
them
what it was like, how it used to be?
He could feel the spirit's anger, muted and blurry. It barely reached him, penetrating the thick waters he was floating in. He felt the sting to his hands as they slammed against the table, a tingle on his skin, something he would normally never pick up. Not if he hadn't done this dozen times before, and knew how to feel for it.
It felt like he was just a passenger in his own body, watching what he was doing without being able to influence it. How his body stood, how it felt as his vocal chords vibrated with speech he had no input on. The tremble in his hands, his arms, the anger his body didn't feel, but the spirit forced onto it. Even his own feelings were muted -the fear, the anxiety, the worry. Nothing could touch him here, as he wasn't himself.
He couldn't get lost in this. He needed to stay focused, feel what the spirit did with him. The spirit was
furious
, the widower was
scared
now. That was all Eugene knew, could see, could tell. Why was he doing this? Why was this still going on?
He gasped as he was suddenly thrown back into his body, stumbling on weak legs, the spirit leaving with an angry huff and taking all her energy with her. How long had she been there? How much time had passed?
He felt faint, his sight was swimming, he was swaying. This was normal. Was this normal? He couldn't focus, he couldn't catch his breath. What had he been thinking? Why was he here? How had he thought he could do this?
Someone caught him, strong hands held his shoulders. Someone spoke to him, but he couldn't make out the words. It was too muffled, his ears were stuffed with cotton. His ribs hurt, his heart was beating too hard. Mixed with his gasping breathing, he couldn't stay.
This wasn't the first time this happened -when such strong spirits left so suddenly, while still so full of energy, it always took a toll on him. These “shows” typically ended right then and there, and it never was a bad thing. It was just what it was.
He was led away, the curtains brushing against him as he stumbled past them. He couldn't force more steps, he was stumbling, he couldn't hold himself up anymore. His knees were too weak, his feet weren't responding anymore. He crumbled, though whoever had led him helped him safely to the ground.
They left. Eugene was left alone.
He gasped, he kept gasping, he couldn't
breathe
. His chest felt like it was being crushed, his lungs in an iron-squeeze, while his heart was jack-hammering against his ribs. It hurt. It hurt, and he felt dizzy and light-headed. His hands uselessly pawed at his chest and neck, he forced his head to lean back against the wall, while his body refused to uncurl.
Why had he done this? Why had he agreed to do this again? He shouldn't have done this. He shouldn't have agreed to channel the spirit. How could he have been so
stupid?
He knew the spirit was aggravated! He had known the spirit was angry! And still he had agreed to this, hadn't put his foot down and said no.
Hot angry tears ran down his cheeks, as he squeezed his eyes shut. He was suffocating, he felt dizzy and light-headed, and if he couldn't manage to breathe soon, he'd pass out. But breathing just wasn't
happening
, no matter how hard he tried to take a breath, all he managed was a wheezing gasp.
“Genie? Genie we're here now, it's okay.”, a voice startled Eugene into a gasp, and suddenly there they were. Rosé, Grandma, and York. They were here. They had been here. Rosé knelt down next to Eugene, while York crouched kind of in front of him, and Grandma stood to his other side.
“It's okay son, you're okay.”, Grandma said softly, gently carding her fingers through Eugene's hair. York as gently as possible grabbed Eugene's ankles to tug his legs straight to uncurl at least a little, giving his lungs more space to work.
“We saw Ogalvy recently, remember him?”, Rosé spoke again, sitting down next to Eugene and pulling out her phone. Eugene tried to focus on her, her voice, and what she talked about. “It was by pure chance! Little rascal had napped some candy.”.
Finally she turned her phone around, letting Eugene see the selfie she had taken with the boy. The two of them were pretty close, and Rosé loved to tell Eugene about her little thief-in-training. It was nice that she still was in contact with him, the friendship between the two cute.Rosé kept talking about the recent days, anything they hadn't already told Eugene about the last time they had seen each other. Grandma kept gently petting Eugene's hair, giving her own two cents to Rosé's stories. York was a steady presence, occasionally derailing Rosé's train of thought. With his three parents here, distracting him with anything and everything not related to what had happened, Eugene slowly calmed down. He found himself able to breathe, the adrenaline leaving his body slowly, leaving him feeling exhausted and drained.
“Would you like a tissue bud?”, Grandma asked eventually, to which Eugene nodded lightly. He took the offered tissue, carefully wiping his face clean before cleaning his nose. Some of his make-up got messed up, though Rosé was quick to help clean his face completely of make-up, cooing over him to make him smile.
York was sent off to retrieve something to drink, the half-orc having an easy time asserting himself and getting what he wants. No one would deny him right about anything, not with the intimidating aura he had -even though he'd never hurt someone unnecessarily. When he came back, he gave a glass of juice to Eugene, who took it gratefully.“What.. was the channeling like?”, he asked as he sipped at the juice. He felt safe now, comfortable. His parents were here, they cared for him, and they knew him. This had been the first time they had seen him do his job however.
“Well...”, Rosé shrugged a little. “You weren't you.”, York said, straight to the point like always. It made Eugene snort a little, smiling softly.
“What's it like for you?”, Grandma asked, clearly none of the three wanting to linger on the other side of it. Seeing Eugene acting so unlike himself had been strange. So loud, so angry, speaking in a way he never did.
“It's... like I'm suspended in water. Everything is muted -what the spirit feels and does with my body, even my own feelings feel... less. I can still see, but it's very disconcerting. Not having any control over what you do or say, seeing yourself do things without having any input.”, Eugene tried to explain, slowly rotating the glass in his hands, feeling the cool glass against his palms.
“That sounds scary.”, Grandma said softly. “Being a passenger in your own body...”, Rosé mumbled.
“Don't do that again.”, York said, earning him a little box from Rosé.
“York!”, she chided, though Eugene just smiled softly.“I don't think I'll do these... shows anymore. It's never what I wanted.”, he said, sighing softly. It made his parents smile softly, remembering how Eugene had always just wanted to help.
“You're really not the type for this.”, Rosé said with a grin, nudging Eugene's shoulder.
“I'd never give up holding seances and helping spirits and families. Even if taking money for it feels bad.”, Eugene sighed heavily. They all knew Eugene would prefer to live in a world where there was no need for money, but that simply wasn't how it was, and they all knew that.
“For what it's worth, we think you're doing wonderful work.”, Grandma said with a smile, to the agreement of Rosé and York.
“Now let's get out of here! I think our son needs some fun now.”, Rosé exclaimed, standing up with her hands settling on her hips. Grandma and York stood as well, helping Eugene to his feet, the man smiling lightly.
“Let me get changed first. Then you can take me wherever you like.”, Eugene smiled at his parents, happy that they were here and would stick around some more. He always loved spending time with them.