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Hades wanted to hit something. He wanted to yell and to scream. He wanted to collapse in sobs. At this point he would saw his own hands off with a rusty kitchen knife. He couldn’t do any of that though, so his hands were gripped tight around the pen he could barely use. His hand had gone white around it from how tightly he held onto it.
Eventually he gave up, throwing the pen against the wall next to him with all his strength before banging his hands down on the desk in front of him with just as much strength, letting out a strangled sound of what could be best described as barely contained agony.
He took one hand in the other and started to rub at his other as best he can, which in turn made the pain worse. Hades’ whole face scrunched up as he clenched his jaw so hard it sent pain through the whole side of his face.
It was a lose-lose condition really. There was no ignoring it, it kept making itself more and more known as it got more and more agonizing. But if you tried to rub at your hands or walk on your legs then wherever you put weight or protest on would protest. Violently. Every agonizing sensation would get multiplied tenfold.
In the end, it was easier to walk or to rub at whatever was flaring up, but it wasn’t enjoyable either way.
Hades rubbed harder at his hand, switching hands. His nails were digging into his hands, leaving red marks behind them. But it didn’t help. He knew it would be better than doing nothing, so he kept going, even if he wasn’t doing much this way, instead just causing angry scratches instead.
What eventually got his attention was the door opening. He froze, looking up, preparing to have been caught red-handed in a moment of vulnerability by one of the workers. He was about to jump up and start yelling about knocking and respect when he saw who was there.
Persephone was standing in the doorway with a concerned look on her face. “Is everything okay? I heard you hitting things.” She’d been back for a week or so now and for the most part, Hades had been keeping his promise. Making changes, giving memories back, trying to be less short-tempered. So the sound of him hitting things so violently was more than a bit concerning.
She’d been hesitant to come in here herself. She knew her husband’s temper and she knew it wasn’t something to mess with.
Hades wanted to say yes. He planned to say yes. He always said yes. Instead his voice came out in almost a whimper as he replied with a weak, shaky, “No…”
Persephone’s expression instantly softened, sympathy joining the concern. She walked in, the door clicking shut behind her. “What’s wrong?” She asked him gently.
“Neuropathy,” Hades said, face expressing all of the pain he felt. Persephone was the only person she would ever dare to show his real pain to. He still didn’t enjoy it, but he couldn’t do anything about it at this point. He was past the point of being able to hide this.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Persephone cooed as she came over to him, sitting down in front of his desk across from him. She reached out and took his hands in hers, cupping them in her own and starting to massage them. “Here, let me.”
Hades made another soft sound in the back of his throat and set his head down on the desk in front of him. “It hurts,” He whispered. And it did. Stabbing. Burning. The worst pins and needles pain you’d ever felt. All of it at once, tormenting him.
“I know it does,” Persephone said softly. “I know. It’ll be okay, just let me help.”
“Help faster,” Hades pleaded.
“I’m doing it as good I can,” She promised him, pausing to lean over and kiss the back of his head.
“I love you, but kiss me later. Just keep up on my hands.” Hades didn’t care about what she had to offer right now unless it fixed the pain in his hands. And all she had right now to offer was what she was doing. Once the pain stopped then she could be affectionate, right now he needed this pain to stop before he had a breakdown over it.
“Alright,” Persephone said softly. “I will.”
“Thank you,” Hades whispered.
“Anytime, Hades. Anytime.”
Hades hummed softly, closing his eyes. He couldn’t relax fully (or much at all) because of the pain, but he could stop stressing as horribly, knowing that eventually this would fix it.
An hour later, Persephone looked more than a bit concerned. “Is it still hurting?” She asked. She knew it got bad, but usually it didn’t last this long. Not unless he faked that too. She needed to work with him on his hiding pain.
“Huh? Oh, no, it stopped hurting a long time ago now,” Hades said casually.
“It did? Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Hades gave her a smile. “Cause I wanted you to hold my hand longer.”
Persephone scoffed, but didn’t pull her hand away, instead she moved it so their fingers were interlaced. “You should have just said that then.”