Therapy
okay this is low-key a short one, and not very eventful. Just Jesse branching out a little and going to therapy! (sorry if my writing of therapy sucks, every time i go to write this i totally forget how therapy goes lol) Also this is a chaos post but im trying to get into writing for jesse again. I miss him
CWs: bbu, therapy, grief, victim self blaming.
Masterlist
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Bree stared at the young rescue sitting across from her, in the den of Cooper Hernandez’s home. It was always a little nerve wracking, meeting with someone new. Would she be able to help them? Did they want to be helped? It was even more so meeting with an ex-pet. What kind of pain had they experienced? How deep did the conditioning go?
She’d met with clients who had gratefully and swiftly shed their previous identity, ready to take on the world as a free man or woman. And she’d also met with clients who had no interest in moving on, who were much more comfortable as a pet. It was freedom that scared them, it was healing they didn’t want. And she had no idea which one she’d get.
She met with Cooper before the session, so he could give her the low-down on what kind of person this rescue was. She learned that his name was Jesse, and that he kept it from his previous owners. She learned that he was roughly twenty years old. He was trained as a Platonic and worked for his buyers as a nanny. She learned that he left of his own free will, although he seemed to regret it ever since. He was severely physically abused and most likely sexually abused. He was having a very difficult time transitioning to his new life and leaving the family he lived with behind.
Throughout Bree’s five years of working with the pet liberation movement, she’d learned that Platonics and Romantics often had the most difficulty in moving on from their owners, regardless of if they left themselves or not. They were taught that they only existed to please their owners. They felt as if they’ve betrayed them by leaving, not saved their own lives.
She could feel this just from looking at Jesse. He looked miserable. He was thin, although she had no idea if that was a product of his time here or not. There were deep bags under his eyes and they were red rimmed, as if he was crying before coming in. He kept fiddling with his collar and looking at the door. He sat on the couch cushion furthest from Bree, which she was actually happy for. If he felt he may be in danger with her, it was good that he would at least try to preserve himself. So many rescues don’t even bother.
When he first walked in she greeted him with a, “Jesse? Nice to meet you. I’m Bree,” which he nodded to, but he hadn’t said a single word himself.
Bree leaned back in her chair to give him space. She didn’t have a notepad in her hand -- she felt as if he might get nervous if she began to write things down without telling him what they were. “How are you settling in here?”
Jesse twisted his collar around his neck, staring at the carpet between them. “Fine.”
Bree nodded. “I know it can be difficult transitioning to such a new situation so quickly.” He didn’t respond. “Have you talked to any of the other rescues living here? Or Cooper and Contessa?”
He hesitated before answering. “Gwen.”
Bree smiled. “Gwen’s a great girl. Has she helped you settle in any?”
“Um. She told me to try this. To try talking to you. I mean.”
“Did she?” That was very nice to hear, actually. Gwen had her own reservations about therapy when she first arrived, but four months in she was opening up more than Bree even expected. “Why did she say that?”
“She said you would help.”
“What would you like help with?”
Jesse glanced up at her for just a half a second, but even from that Bree could tell he was holding back tears. “She said you could help… with my girls. Help me feel better about-- about abandoning them.”
“The girls. The children you cared for?” He nodded stiltedly, quickly running a hand over his eyes. Bree pointedly took a drink of her water, taking her time with the lid to give him a moment to compose himself. “Well. I can tell you right now you didn’t abandon them. You saved yourself, Jesse. It’s something that’s not cowardly, but admirable. Do you believe me when I say that?”
He nodded immediately, not even trying to convince her he was telling the truth.
“You don’t have to lie. I know you don’t, and that’s okay. We’re going to work on it together, okay?”
He opened his mouth like he wanted to talk, but hesitated. Bree waited patiently. “I just -- I don’t. I just want to know if they’re okay.”
“Are their parents with them?”
“Their parents are divorced. They live with their -- their mother during the week. She has a nanny. I don’t know who will care for them on the weekends.”
“Their father? The nanny?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. But they--” He cut himself off, frowning deeply and swallowing hard. He was scared to cry. “They don’t know them like I do. They don’t care like I do.” He worked his jaw, twisting his collar around his neck. Bree could see the skin underneath, chafed and raw. She reminded herself that they will have to discuss other self-soothing techniques.
“Why do you say that, Jesse?”
He looked at her with such pure and sudden pain in his eyes, that Bree was taken aback. “They weren’t trained for it,” he said. “If I’m taking care of them, I know they’re getting the best care. I left them in hands that aren’t prepared, not like I am.”
“You think they’re unsafe because of that?”
“I know they are.”
She feels her eyebrows draw together. “How do you know that?”
“I--” he stopped again, thinking, looking over at the door. He lowered his gaze, wiping his eyes. “I just feel it.”
Bree’s hands itched for her notebook, but she didn’t reach for it. Instead, she watched him. Watched the way he was once again avoiding eye contact. Watched the way he was curled in on himself, protecting himself. The way he kept twisting that collar with one hand, and the other was knocking against the couch in a pattern only he knew. He was tense, like he could try to run any second. Bree knew, though, that even if he wanted to he never would.
“Did you leave of your own free will, Jesse, or were you taken?”
He swallowed. “I left,” he admitted, ashamed.
Bree nodded. “Why?”
“My owner--their father… he hurt me.”
“Did he hurt them?”
“No.”
“Ever?”
“No. Never.” He chewed his bottom lip. “He just -- he worked a lot. So he wasn’t home. But he never hurt them.”
“Do you regret leaving because you think he’ll start, or because you think they’ll miss you?”
“They’ll miss me,” he whispered. “I miss them.”
Bree smiled softly, but he was not looking up to see it. “But they will be okay. And they will heal. They’re children. You will miss them. I can tell you really loved them. But, Jesse -- what do you think would have happened to you in that environment?”
“What do you mean?”
Bree searched for the right words. She didn’t want to push him to this conclusion, she wanted him to reach it himself. “I mean… do you think you would have been safe there? With the man who hurt you?”
He shook his head silently. Bree went to continue when he did speak up, albeit quietly. “He would’ve killed me. I think.”
She nodded. “Do you think the children will heal better from having witnessed you die -- or from knowing that you left to be somewhere safer? Don’t they love you too?”
“I think so. I -- I hope so. I love them.”
“So… can you agree that it was better for you to leave than to stay? That you’ve saved them a lot of heartache in the long run?”
He didn’t answer. They sat in silence as Bree’s watch ticked on. They used to have a clock in the room, but it was removed after it made too many rescues feel as if they were being timed and doing poorly. Eventually, Jesse nodded. One, quick nod, as if he didn’t want to do it.
Bree smiled again. “They have people to care for them. They will be okay. You had to take the chance to leave for you. Don’t you think you’re important enough to be safe too?”
“I don’t want to feel like this,” he confessed tearfully. “I feel so awful. Thinking about them and being here. I don’t want this.”
“Will you let me try to help?” Bree asked.
He glanced up at her, tears falling once again from bright blue eyes. “Okay.”
“Thank you, Jesse. I appreciate you trusting me. I want to help you.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
He gave up on holding the tears back, letting them fall rapidly down his flushed face, chest heaving for breath he tried desperately to control. “Why would you want to help me? I’m -- I’m bad. I’m a bad pet. I ran away. I’m ungrateful here, I hide. Why?”
It was Bree’s turn to ponder a difficult question. “Because you deserve to feel safe, too.”
He didn’t believe her. She could tell. But he accepted the answer, leaning back into the sofa and wrapping his arms tightly around himself. She could only hope that he would believe her sometime soon. That he would choose to live his own life, and be his own person. That he would find an identity outside of being a Platonic.
That he won’t let his heartache destroy him first.
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Taglist: @mylifeisonthebookshelf @boxboysandotherwhump @hold-him-down@winedark-whump@melancholy-in-the-morning@castielamigos-whump-side-blog@cyborg0109
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Everything Good
CW: Self-hatred, victim-blaming, referenced past noncon, Kauri does so love to get drunk when he’s sad doesn’t he, some big old angst
Follows directly after Antoni and Kauri’s fight here, happens before/concurrently with Who You Are Looking For
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“I told Jameson in confidence,” Antoni is saying, the words finding their way through the white noise slowly overtaking Kauri’s mind. His hard jaw and hard eyes and hard voice all combine to give away what he’s really saying, underneath the words. I didn’t trust you enough to tell you. Kauri opens his mouth with some retort but it falls apart, nothing comes out but air. Antoni speaks over the silence. “I did not tell you, or Jasha, and that was my choice not to tell.” Antoni’s voice is hard as granite, and Kauri can’t breathe as he feels the inhuman stone shove itself down his throat. Unfeeling. Uncaring. “I am sorry it hurt you that you did not know.”
No, you’re not.
Everyone says they’re sorry, no one ever means it.
It always happens again-
“Do not ask me again.”
Kauri isn’t sure if he even remembers how to blink. His heart pounds in his chest, so loud that it beats inside his ears, and he can’t say anything. He realizes with start that he is terrified of Antoni’s anger, that he understands that Antoni is the most dangerous person living in this house and Kauri has said and done all the wrong things for the last time. He manages a thin, stammered, “Ant-”
“I am ashamed of what was done to me,” Antoni snaps, a look on his face like a sneer. Loathing. Kauri is shit on his shoe, needing scraped off or dissolved with bleach. They’re supposed to be partners, but then again, when has Kauri been loved without pain?
Jake loves you.
The thought doesn’t land. None of them do, not with that look on Antoni’s face.
Antoni turns away from him, and it’s like slamming a door in his face. Like when Derrick would grab him by the arm and shake him for being so fucking stupid, why the fuck did you do that and Kauri never had a good reason. He doesn’t have a good reason now.
Antoni could hurt him for this. Antoni and Jake and Chris are never, ever supposed to hurt him. They’re the ones he can trust not to.
Antoni, a man carved of marble and painted in shades of furious anger, has a stare that burns holes through Kauri’s thin armor. “Is that not enough? Must you make it worse?”
Kauri swallows the rocks in his throat and lets them come to rest somewhere in his chest, behind his heart, a weight of guilt he can’t carry alone, but alone is what he is right now. Antoni looks at him like he’s been wounded by Kauri knowing this, when Kauri should be the first person people know will understand. Of course he understands. It’s the one thing he’s a goddamn expert in.
“... I-... I didn’t mean-” His voice catches in his throat, thin and reedy, and Kauri winces and tries again. He takes a step back. Antoni doesn’t notice him putting space between them. Even Kauri is barely aware of it, the instinctive self-protection. Please don’t hurt me for making you angry. “You don’t have to be ashamed of-”
“Yes, I do!” Antoni smacks his hand down on the countertop and Kauri flinches, but Antoni wasn’t looking at him. He doesn’t see it. Kauri takes another step back. “It was shameful!”
Blood rushes to Kauri’s face, a sudden burst of heat. His fingers, though, are freezing. His lungs feel cold. Granite has become a glacier, a weight of ice he can’t possibly resist or dig his way out of. His mind scrapes against ice walls as thick as canyons are deep. “Don’t say that.”
His voice is a whisper.
Antoni turns to look at him and it’s an expression Owen has shown him so many times Kauri could draw it with his eyes closed even now. A look that Kauri can hear, the words spit at him with Owen’s righteous anger, his judgement, the way he could hate Kauri and love him all at once. You stupid slut.
If Antoni hates him for it, too, then what was the point of ever leaving?
“... I, I don’t have to be ashamed-” His voice is a thin whimper, and Antoni smacks the countertop again. This time Kauri stumbles back against the wall, his eyes locked on Antoni’s hand where it lays, fingers splayed, on the laminate made to look like stone. Just a thin layer of imaginary strength over wood so easily broken.
“Stop it!” Antoni stops. Takes in a breath. “Stop. This is not about you. Not everything on earth is about you. This conversation ends now.”
Kauri has never, ever dreamed that Antoni could look at him like this. Disgusted with him. Loathing him. God, he must hate Kauri for what he’s done, for what he is, if he can hate himself for having to live with it. Hating himself because he ever, for even a second, had to have the same life Kauri did. He swallows, thinking he can apologize, he can be good, he can talk his way out of this. If he can just be sorry enough, they can make this go away, like it never happened. “Antoni-”
“I said it ends.”
Antoni walks away.
Kauri’s mouth is still open, but all he sees is Antoni’s back as he disappears down the hall. The room isn’t empty, though. It’s full of the weight of Kauri standing, once again, alone. This time he isn’t fleeing Owen’s rage and the hands around his neck, the realization that he can’t survive it if it keeps getting worse.
Instead, he’s standing here alone because Antoni doesn’t want him.
“Makes sense,” He whispers to himself. Guilt rages, tears him apart from the inside. He’s just skin stretched over self-loathing. Kauri takes a deep breath, steadying himself, closing his eyes. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket and dials a number he meant to block a long time ago, but never could quite bring himself to. Just in case.
He’s honestly surprised when Westin answers. “Kauri! Long time no fuck around! How are you?”
“Shit. It’s all shit.” Kauri’s voice still won’t rise above a hoarse whisper.
“Oh, damn. What’s wrong? I thought you were all married and settled and shit now.”
“I-... I am-” I think I am, he says, but then tries to shove that thought away. Even if Antoni doesn’t want him, even if he’s ruined everything by not knowing how or when to shut his fucking mouth, Jake will still love him.
Won’t he?
God. He can’t make Jake choose between them. Antoni’s objectively the better choice, anyway. He’s better with the rescues, he’s a good cook, he never makes demands on anyone for anything at all. There’s no choice to be made, Antoni is always going to be the one who wins out. If Kauri gets picked it’d be out of pity.
Wouldn’t it?
“Then what’s up?”
“Uh, my. My, um-... Look, tonight sucks. You got anything?”
“Kauri. Gorgeous. Light of my… fucked-up early twenties. I always have something. You want to come over?”
Westin’s nice. He has an apartment he pays for in cash because you don’t pay taxes on the kind of money he makes, the way he makes it. Kauri hesitates, because he shouldn’t. He hasn’t, not in years. He had thought he’d grown out of running for something to wipe out his mind when it’s overwhelmed by fear.
But he’s never been afraid like this.
“... Uh-”
Chris peeks into the kitchen. His wide green eyes meet Kauri’s, below the shock of lavender hair with copper roots starting to show. He’s wearing a gray hoodie that drowns him and black pants with holes at the knees that Kauri honestly can’t tell if they’re jeans or leggings. Or both. He realizes Chris has shoes on. “Kauri? Is, is, is everything-”
Kauri grabs his arm, not so much thinking as just acting on impulse, the way he always does. “Come on. We’re going out.”
“Wh-what? We are?”
“Yeah.” Kauri puts the phone back to his ear. “Westin? You still there?”
“Yeah, eavesdropping shamelessly. You coming over?”
“Nah. Can I meet you outside of the Dolph? You know the place?”
“Oh, yeah. Definitely. I love that place. You slept with the bartender, didn’t you?”
“That was like a decade ago, Wes. He’s probably not the bartender anymore.” Kauri heads down the steps, Chris’s arm still in his hand, the younger man stumbling after him confused and uncertain, but willing to go wherever Kauri takes him. Chris, at least, won’t ever look at him the way Antoni did. He isn’t fucking physically capable of it. No matter what Kauri says, or does, or thinks, or feels.
“I mean, I know, but just-”
“I did. I think his name was Jerome. Or Jared?”
“Jerome. Definitely Jerome. Jesus, that guy was stacked like a fucking…” Westin trails off, lost in thoughts. Or memories. “I don’t know. He definitely didn’t wear the right size t-shirt though.”
“You get bigger tips that way.”
Kauri half-shoves Chris into the car and gets himself into the driver’s seat. Jake’s metal music blares at first, but Kauri smacks at the volume button until the sound is silenced. “We’ll be there in half an hour. Can you bring me something chill?”
“Some, something chill?” Chris’s eyes widen, then he looks… unaccountably sad. “Kauri-”
“It’s fine,” Kauri says, waving a hand in Chris’s face without looking at him. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, I can do that.” Westin’s voice goes soft. “You going to be up for some real fun tonight?”
“God, no.” Kauri still loves the way the word ‘no’ sounds in his own voice. He went so long without remembering how to say it and not fall apart. “Had a shit night. Just… half an hour, the Dolph, something good.”
“Got it. Hey, I always wondered… is the Dolph named about dolphins, or Dolph Lundgren?”
“... yes.” Kauri hangs up before Westin can say anything else, hitting the gas hard enough that the car jerks forwards and Chris grabs, a little panicked, at his seatbelt. “Whoops, sorry. Haven’t driven in a while.”
“It’s, um. It’s fine.” Chris’s phone vibrates and he checks it, wincing as if what he sees hurts him. “Uh, Jake, um, Jake wants to, to to to know, um, what, what happened, uh-”
“Tell him we’re going out.” Kauri takes a left turn too sharply, throwing Chris against the door. It occurs to him he probably shouldn’t drive when he feels like this, but fuck it, he doesn’t care anymore. Why not? He can drive the way he feels, and maybe it’ll help unstick the ice in his chest. “To dinner. To talk.”
Chris swallows. “... are, are we going out to, to, to dinner?”
“Well, the Dolph is kind of a dive-y bar and serves some pretty fucking awesome fried food, plus a real shitty take on a garden salad, so… sure. I’m buying.”
“And… and, and and and, we, um, will we… talk? About-... about what, what happened-”
“Once I am high off my ass and don’t care anymore,” Kauri says, taking another turn. He can see the blue sign marking that the interstate is coming up, now. Merge there, drive a few miles, get right back off. Head into an unassuming up-and-coming neighborhood where cute little boutiques vie with murals spray-painted on walls twenty years ago and left to fade with time and weather. Find the bright blue door with a light over the top. Go inside. Order drinks, swallow pills, and breathe.
He’s done it a thousand times before.
He can do it again.
It always helps. Or at least, it always holds off the pain long enough for Kauri to find a way to run from it.
“Kauri, please, how, how, how how how can I get home, if, um, if you get… high, again, you, you you you haven’t done that in a while, are-... can, can we talk before, um-”
Kauri glances sideways, and feels a brand new wash of self-loathing when he sees that Chris looks worried, even a little scared. Of him.
He merges too hard and nearly sideswipes a semi. The guy blares his horn and Kauri flips him off and speeds past, changing lanes. It’s begging for something to go horribly wrong, flirting with an accident or injury or death. But fuck it, what does it matter?
“I think Antoni stopped loving me tonight,” Kauri says, voice flat. He’s proud of the way it doesn’t shake. “I think I deserve to get high again tonight. You get me home safe. Everyone goddamn wins, right?”
Chris clutches his phone like it could save his life. “Antoni could-... could never st, stop-”
“Yeah, maybe not with other people. But I have that very special talent, Chris, I can make anybody fall out of love with me just by being myself. Just by being who I am. Just by being… being what I was. What we were. Right? We don’t change. Once a stupid selfish slut, always a stupid selfish slut, right?”
He realizes he’s accidentally included Chris in that estimation a moment too late, when he glances to the side and sees the look of profound hurt on his sort-of little brother’s face.
Great work, Kaur-Bore, you did it again.
“Oh, shit, Chris. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“It’s, it’s okay,” Chris whispers. He’s rocking forward and back, his fingers scratching at his jeans, running along the seams. “It’s okay. I, I, I think it sometimes, too. Once, um, once a, once a-”
“No. Not you, Chris. Never you.” Kauri holds a hand out, and Chris takes it, even though he can’t stop rocking, keeps his other hand moving. “That was a shitty thing to say, and I shouldn’t have said it. What if I promise I’ll eat something before I start drinking, and I won’t have more than three drinks and one of whatever Westin brings? How’s that sound?”
Chris squeezes his hand. Someone honks - not even at him - but it reminds Kauri that his exit is right there and he has to take a hard swerve not to miss it. Chris lets go to put his hands in his hair and lean over, eyes closing tightly, breathing in gasps. “Kauri!”
“It’s fine, it’s okay.” Kauri soothes, both hands back on the wheel, hitting the brakes so they come to a sudden jerking stop at the light, waiting for it to turn green. “See? Look? I can’t even go very fast on this road. We’re almost there, I swear.”
“Okay.” Chris rocks forwards and back, forwards and back. His hands slip under his hoodie, and Kauri knows without having to see that he’s tapping, soothing himself with sensation that settles his fraying nerves, just like always. “Okay, okay, okay.”
“Okay.” Kauri nods, and as he forces himself to ease down the road instead of flying, he rubs at Chris’s back with one hand. “I’m sorry. I’m scaring you, aren’t I? I don’t-... I don’t handle this shit well, but I bounce back, I promise.” He lets out a bitter brittle laugh, startling himself a little. He hasn’t laughed like that in years. “Enough people tell you you’re a piece of shit and make it clear they can’t love you after, you get real good at letting it roll off your back.”
Chris hesitates. Kauri can see that he’s thinking. The quiet draws out between them as Kauri spots the telltale blue door and pulls into the parking lot, easing around the grass growing through the asphalt cracks, stubborn weeds that refuse to be destroyed by the conditions they have to grow in.
“... did he, he, he say that?” Chris asks, softly. The bass from the music is echoing out of the bar, and Kauri closes his eyes, letting his forehead rest against the steering wheel. “Kauri? Did, did, did Antoni say that, uh that he he he doesn’t… love you? Anymore?”
Kauri keeps his eyes closed.
“He didn’t have to,” Kauri whispers. It’s funny. He’d thought his voice would shake more, saying it, but he finds that all his fear is draining away. Falling down into the white light that lives so far back inside his mind, but always finds its way back out. “I know the way he looked at me. I’ve seen that look so many fucking times. And if Antoni can’t love me, who can?”
“I can.” Chris whispers it back, and Kauri turns his head without lifting it, watching Chris looking back at him, half-smiling. “Jake can.”
“... nah. Even he’s gotta give up the ghost eventually, right?”
Chris looks too solemn, too serious. It shatters Kauri’s heart. “You, you, you aren’t a ghost.”
Kauri could laugh. He could laugh until he ran out of air and blacked out right here, laugh until all the pain is hidden deeply enough that no one remembers he ever felt it but him. “Aren’t I? I’m not handling the love affairs of the guy who used to own my body super well, am I? Just keep fuckin’ it up. Jesus Christ. I’m such a piece of shit.”
Oh, good. The tears are back.
His voice gets thick and wet with them, and he has to hitch in breaths to say anything around a closing throat.
“I’m such shit. Antoni didn’t want me to fucking know because he knows I’ll just make it about me, and I did! I made it all about me and my problems and my bullshit. He lied to me because he knew I can’t take knowing that my life is something other people would rather die than admit to having lived, so I make it about me and I’m awful and I don’t even goddamn blame him for hating me now. I’m a piece of shit and a bad partner, and Saint Jake can’t keep swooping in to save me. Eventually the goddamn martyr’s going to realize he doesn’t have to die for my stupid fucking sins, and then he’ll tell me to get my ass out of the house and give him his ring back so he can give it to somebody else better than me."
Chris is silent. Doesn’t matter.
It isn’t really him Kauri’s talking to anymore.
“I ruin it. It's like my biggest fucking talent! I ruin everything good. I get a good thing and I fuck it up, I always have. All the way back to the man who I used to be, I bet he sucked at relationships, too. Bet he did. That’s why I’m like this now, it was already there, and my shitty fucking life has only made me worse. I thought I was getting better. Therapy, and not drinking so much… but I never got any better. Jesus. Who’s going to want me, huh? Who’s going to want a washed up whore who can’t keep a relationship together with the two most patient men on the entire fucking planet? Why can’t I stop myself from doing things I know are just going to make it worse? Why can’t I ever stop it before I fuck it all up again?”
There’s a pause.
"Why can't I ever remember I don't want to until I've already done it and it's too late to stop?"
Chris’s hand is warm against his back, suddenly, rubbing up and down. Offering him the same comfort he had given a minute ago, and Kauri shudders, forcing back a sob - or a scream - trying to find its way out.
“I love you,” Chris whispers. “As, as, as your brother. Your, um, your friend. I, I I I love you, and you, I, I mean it.”
“Love you too.” Kauri’s voice is wry, so thin it’s a single human hair stretched nearly to snapping. “I’m sorry I dragged you out with me, Chris. You probably had other plans, huh?”
“Not, not, not important ones.” His voice is a shrug. “I, I, I know how you, you, you feel.”
Kauri huffs. Is it laughter? He can’t even tell. “Do you?”
“Yeah.” Chris’s voice is low and sincere. “I, I, I think that a, um, a lot. That, that, that I’m only going to to to to… mess it up. That, that, that I always… I always do. Because I, I, I can’t-... have, um. With them. And I can’t… sometimes I get so, so scared of, of, of… of-...” He trails off. “Of it all. Of me. Come, come on, Kauri.”
Kauri looks at him, and Chris offers him a soft, sweet smile, leaning close. He smells like his shampoo, and laundry soap, and beneath all of that, the simple specific human Chris smell. “What?”
“Let’s, let’s, let’s go inside.” Chris leans over, impulsive and quick. Kauri feels his lips against his hair, warmth making its way down through the wild black curls, before he pulls back again. “Jake texted and, and, and said he’ll talk to, to, to to to Antoni. We, we, we can stay out for a, um, a while. You always, uh, always feel better… dancing.”
Well… he isn’t wrong.
“I guess you know me pretty well,” Kauri says, shifting back, rubbing at his eyes to get the last of the tears out, glancing at himself in the rearview mirror. In the dark, his eyes being reddened won’t be so obvious. He tries on his best, most glittering aren’t I the most gorgeous fucking thing and so humble too smile. Still looks good.
He always looks his best when he’s ready to shatter, after all.
Nobody looks as good getting torn apart as you do, Kaur-Bore.
“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. Banishes Owen’s voice from his mind. “Okay. Let’s do this.” He steps out of the car, and Chris gets out on the other side. They pause, for a second, looking at the blue door. The light above it. An unobtrusive rainbow sticker pressed against the brick beside it.
“Three, um, three drinks,” Chris reminds him, leaning sideways to bump his shoulder into Kauri’s. “And one, um, pill or… snort? Or whatever?”
“I don’t snort,” Kauri says wryly. “Anymore.”
“You, you, you weren’t doing pills either, though?”
“... Fair point. You win. Fine. One pill or snort or whatever. Three drinks. That is all. And I’ll eat some dinner first so it doesn’t hit me so hard.”
“Then, then, then we’ll… figure it out. Yeah?” His head leans on Kauri’s shoulder, lavender hair halfway up his nose when he turns and has to sneeze and then they both laugh. For a second Kauri thinks maybe he doesn’t need the pill, anyway.
But it’d be rude, if Westin drives all the way out here…
“... Yeah,” Kauri says, softly. “Yeah, we’ll figure it out.”
The blue door opens, and Kauri winces when he hears what’s playing inside. Tell all the English boys you meet, about the American boy back in the States - the American boy you used to date, who would do anything you say…
“Shit. Forgot that it’s Wednesday.”
“Um. Why?”
“Wednesday is a slow night. They let the guy who manages the bar control the music, and he’s… well. He plays shit like this.”
If you say you ever missed me then don’t say you never lied-
I’m without you-
“It’s, it’s, it’s not bad, though?” Chris follows him as Kauri heads for the door. Inside, there’s not exactly a crush of bodies, but there’s a good few dozen men of varying ages, trending older than they do on Fridays and Saturdays. Chris is one of the youngest guys here.
“Oh, it’s not that bad now,” Kauri says, winding his way towards the bar, Chris’s hand in his. A few people still remember Kauri and waves or call out, and he waves back. Lots of Kauri! Haven’t seen you! How’ve you been! You good, man? Oh hey, you’re here! He doesn’t stop to flirt. “Just wait, though. Just wait until he gets super drunk later and starts playing Taking Back Sunday.”
“Starts, um, starts playing… is, is, is that… church music?”
“Oh my God. I love you so much, you sweet tiny baby child.” Kauri throws his head back with real, genuine, open laughter for the first time all night. He orders something candy-colored for himself, plus a burger and fries. Chris gets a vodka and soda and cheese fries.
Chris looks baffled, but Kauri can’t stop laughing, and when he pulls Chris close for a hug, the younger man never hesitates.
Kauri holds him tight, and thinks to himself that even if Antoni never wants to look at him again, he can survive the loss. This time, there’s someone who will hold him while he figures out what to do next. Someone who will stand next to him and listen as the music changes. The crowd, such as it is, takes it as a sign to go order more drinks. Just a few couples stay dancing.
Oh, you're silent but strong
Yeah, I'm playing that card
And you're noticing nothing again
Now I'm lying on the table with everything you said
Keep that in mind, the way that it felt
When the most I could do was to just blame myself
Kauri laughs again. He can’t stop, until his laughter is nearly a sob itself. His cheeks are wet, when did that happen? His knees nearly give out with the hilarity and the hurt swelling inside of him. “Oh my God. It’s goddamn Taking Back Sunday. Dan’s drunk and sad early tonight. Join the fucking club, I guess."
Well, I know you know everything
I know you didn't mean it
I know you didn't mean it
Kauri hums along for a while. "Wow, this music is way better when you fucking hate yourself.”
“What?”
Now I'm lying on the table with everything you said
It will all catch up eventually
Kauri shakes his head. “Never mind. Just… don’t let go. Don’t let go, Chris, please.”
Well, it caught up and honestly
The weight of my decisions were impossible to hold
But they were never yours
“I won’t.”
They were never yours
They rock to no beat in particular and nobody’s hands wander, no one whispers filthy things in anyone else’s ear. He doesn’t even want the drink that bad when it comes.
He will, in a minute.
But right now, it can sit on the bar sweating condensation while they move, side to side.
Stop everything
Start it all over
Remember more than you'd like to forget
Kauri is crying, but his head is buried against Chris’s neck, and Chris only tightens his arms. Kauri is drowning, his head dips below the water.
Chris’s arms are strong, though.
When Kauri gasps for air, he finds it.
If Antoni can’t forgive him, he’ll keep going. Kauri always keeps going. He’s always going to be fine, in the end, because he’s never had a choice. And if Jake hates him too and he has to be fine alone, well, he can do that.
Although Chris makes him think maybe he won’t have to.
Drop everything
Start it all over...
----
As always, @autophagay, this is for you
@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things
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