Morose
Blizz
BlueSky44
Kirah
TheMaster99
Fetzen
Achronum
ImagineTheStars
Forsythe
Percy’s mothers had agreed to give him some time to talk to Dorian and explain to him what was going to happen. Afterwards, he was supposed to go with Dominika and Naomi for some family time. He wouldn’t be able to stick around with his boyfriend in the aftermath of this conversation - he wouldn’t get a second chance to have this confession in person if he screwed it up. And it wasn’t one he was at all prepared to have. He hadn’t expected to be looking at brochures for CAGE’s rehab program when the day began. He didn’t know what to say - didn’t know how to tell Dorian this without breaking his heart.
At that moment, he hated himself for ever touching the bottle.
Dorian lazily stretched within his own bed, the sound of his phone signifying a text woke him up. He looked towards it, calling it over with his powers before it fell onto his face with a soft ‘thwack’. ”Who in t'e world is messagin’ me t'is early in t'e mornin’.” Normally he'd be waking up before the sunrise to start his morning workouts, but having just won the contest and spending the night before partying as long as he could, he wasn't exactly in the mood. He checked his phone, seeing a text from Percy before rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and checking it again.
Percy frowned slightly. That wasn’t an answer to his question. He stared at the house from the sidewalk, his stomach filled with buzzing bees of anxiety and dread. He texted back a reply, his hands suddenly cold and clammy.
Oh, that made sense. Dorian hadn't heard anyone leaving this morning, but then again he was fully knocked out.
Percy bit his lip, as he read the message. He supposed Dorian was right - he hadn’t technically needed to ask to go inside and see him, but… He had felt the need to do so anyway. His stomach churned and he took a breath, trying to steel his nerves. He imagined what he would say to Dorian. Hello, I am an alcoholic. I understand if you wish to never see me again.
It was all too possible that would happen. Dorian’s family already had their own struggles with sobriety. This could disgust him, push him away. He might never want to talk to Percy again, he would move on and find a new partner - maybe convince Billy and Teddy to give polyamory a try - and it would be over. Maybe Dorian would scream at him that Chase had been right to bully him so severely, that he was a waste of potential and space.
So he tried to teleport, he tried to jump from the sidewalk into Dorian’s room, but he remained frozen on the spot. His knees were shaking and fear had wrapped its tendrils around his heart.
Dorian sat in his room, waiting, staring at his phone to see if the bubbles would start. To see if a text would begin to form or any semblance of life would emerge to show him Percy would answer. But he sat there being left on read. He waited and waited and finally he decided he couldn't wait any longer. Maybe it had only been a minute, but to him it felt like an eternity. Wondering what it was that got Percy so worked up after seeing his mothers that he felt the need to talk. He tossed his phone to the side, grabbing an oversized sweater and throwing it on to help fight the cold. Not that it would help much in the short shorts he had on with knee high socks. His thighs were still very much exposed to the elements and from the looks of it it would seem as if he was only wearing the sweater and socks.
Dorian phased out of his bedroom and floated down the house and outside to where Percy was standing. He crossed his arms, not in annoyance or anger but simply as a way to help stave off the cold and keep in his body heat. ”Perce, what's goin’ on?”
Percy swallowed as he saw Dorian. Ordinarily, he would have appreciated the view of his boyfriend in his short shorts. But right now, he could barely make eye contact. He could barely bring himself to speak. He swallowed again. Tried to picture the words in his mind. And he forced them out, squeezing his eyes shut so he couldn’t see Dorian’s reaction.
“I’m being sent to rehab,” he whispered, before taking a shuddering breath. “They’re worried I might become an alcoholic. I’m so sorry, Dorian. I…. I understand if you want to break up with me or never see me again, I… I am so so sorry.”
Dorian’s heart fell into his stomach. He felt cold, not from the weather, but from what felt like his body starting to fade. The urge to retreat, to hide away in the Astral as Percy kept speaking, spewing words like bullets. He took a half step forward, wanting to reach out, to hug Percy, but as he did he could see the translucency in his hand and hid back beneath his arm. ”Perce I…what're you sayin’? Why are you goin’ to rehab? Why would I break up wit’ you? Why wouldn’t I wanna see you again? I just – I…” He shook his head in disbelief. Dorian hadn't had so many emotions coursing through him like this in a long time. He was wracked with sadness, for Percy, for his situation.
He'd heard of how this sort of thing could affect you, ruin you, it's why his house was a dry house. Overlaid was fear for Percy's future, glad that he was trying to get help but worried because he knew how stubborn he was when it came to it. Finally he was broken, hurt that Percy hadn't come to him sooner, said something sooner. Thoughts ran through his mind, replaying scenes in his head of interactions together or alone, had Percy truly passed out from the day's events yesterday or was he drinking alone in the room? Would he break that sort of trust amongst his family?
Percy didn’t open his eyes, even as tears started to well up in them. He hated crying. He tried to never do it. He had already fallen apart in front of Dorian yesterday, and here he was, on the brink of doing it again. He didn’t dare look at him - couldn’t cope with the possibility that he would see horror, that he would see pity, that he would see disgust, that he would see disinterest on his face. He wanted to run and hide, wanted to jump back in time without a care for the dangers and find a way to stop all of this - to keep himself from meeting James Kingston and having his secret blown - or to find a way to go even further back and keep himself from ever opening a bottle.
“I drink,” Percy sobbed. “I drink when things are too much. Your father caught me and told my moms and… I’m so sorry, Dorian. I - I messed up. I never should have - but - I - I was so scared they’d hate me and that they wouldn’t approve and I…I didn’t want to wake you the night before the contest so I… so I…”
Dorian wanted to ask Percy if he had drunk the night before, he wanted to ask about so many things, and it hurt him not to know. But he wasn't here to question him, Percy needed comfort, he needed assurance, and he needed to know he was loved. So, Dorian reached out once more, hand still transparent, and as he went to pull Percy into a hug he managed to will himself back to being corporeal. Dorian wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, one positioned on his middle back as the other swept up and held the back of his head. ”But you're gettin’ ‘elp now. You're doin’ t'e right t'in and takin’ t'e steps needed to get better.” Again he wanted to ask why it hand come to this? Why couldn't he tell him sooner, gotten help sooner, but this wasn't about him, it was about Percy.
Percy buried his head into Dorian’s chest, echoing the same position he had been in yesterday. He hated this - he hated feeling so weak, so small. But he mostly hated the way he had hurt his mothers - the way he was certain he had hurt Dorian. He didn’t deserve this comfort right now, didn’t deserve to be held in his arms and told he’d done the right thing. If he had done the right thing, he wouldn’t have drank at all. He wouldn’t have ever touched that bottle, he wouldn’t have had the hubris to think that he was smarter than addiction. He felt so lost and terrified, and so undeserving of love, of affection. His mame was going on sabbatical from Columbia for him, putting her dreams on hold. He didn’t want to make Dorian do the same - didn’t want to see him have less than he deserved just because he had the misfortune to choose a terrible person for a boyfriend.
He tried again to teleport them, to move them off of the sidewalk and into Dorian’s room for some privacy, but his powers failed him. He might as well have been just human in that moment, powerless. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled over and over again. “I thought I had it under control.” His legs felt like they were about to give out, and his entire body was trembling. It had been hard to hear from his mothers. It was harder to say this to Dorian.
Dorian felt Percy's familiar energy as he tried to jump, noticing they hadn't moved at all. He squeezed his boyfriend tighter as he began to apologize to him, as he began to give his excuses and reasoning for why he had done so. It wasn't that Dorian didn't believe him, more that he knew those who struggled truly believed these lies they told themselves. That they could quit whenever they wanted, that they didn't need it they simply wanted it, all of these excuses they told themselves to make it seem alright. Dorian just thought he'd never have to hear them himself. He pulled on the power they shared as he picked Percy up into his arms before gently moving them into the kitchen.
He placed Percy on the counter to sit and wait, as Dorian went through the motions, his mind far away as his powers kicked in almost on instinct. Cupboards quietly opened and closed as cups, beans, presses, and more came out one by one from different locations and settled down before him. Percy had mentioned he went to have breakfast with his mothers, so he likely wasn't hungry, but there was always room for coffee; and what better way to have this conversation than with something warm and soothing as they spoke. In moments Dorian almost looked like Max all those days prior, using his powers to get everything ready, making coffee and multitasking for the people he loved. He was quiet through it all, until finally as he began to pour in the hot water, he spoke. ”Everyone believes t'ey ‘ave it under control, even grown ups. But you're doin’ t'e ‘ard part now and workin’ t'rough it. So, what's next? What steps are we takin’ to move forward in all t'is?” He pushed himself up on the counter opposite Percy, facing him as he waited for the coffee to brew.
Percy didn’t meet Dorian’s gaze, instead looking at the kitchen floor, his eyes following the seams in the tiles. He gripped the edge of the counter with both hands, his knuckles white. If he let go, he felt like he would fall apart all over again. The tears had mostly stopped as his boyfriend had brought them into the house and went about making coffee - but the deep sense of shame, of remorse, of fear lingered. The silence had been unbearable. He wanted to know what Dorian was thinking, and he was terrified at the idea that his guess was correct - that his boyfriend’s love for him might not be enough to weather this storm.
“They’re taking me to rehab Monday morning. Supposed to be there for a few days before I can leave and just go a few hours each day… my mame is moving back to California so she can be there for me… beyond that I don’t know…”
”T'at's good. T'e more you ‘ave in your support network t'e easier t'is will be for you. Do you…know where re'ab will be? Will you still be goin’ to school or…?” Waffles flew out of the freezer and into a toaster, clicking down and warming up as they spoke.
Percy flinched slightly at the sound of the waffles clicking down. He nodded at Dorian’s question. “I’ll still be going to Margaret Carter,” he confirmed. “It’s… it’s at CAGE. So I can’t just… just blink myself away.”
Dorian felt a tightness in his chest as Percy mentioned CAGE. He barely liked doing visits to see April there, the dampeners felt…wrong. The whole facility felt wrong. But he doubted he could visit anyways if it was only for a few days. ”T'en I guess t'at means I'll just ‘ave to write to you everyday. I doubt I can visit, but I'm sure letters ‘ave to be allowed right?”
Percy lifted his head up, his eyes misty. “You’d write to me?” he asked softly.
”Well CAGE doesn't exactly allow cellphones and outside contact like t'at from what I remember wit' April. So, letters. I t'ink letters can be allowed.”
He didn’t want to cry again. He really didn’t want to cry again. Blue energy flashed around his body as he reappeared in Dorian’s lap, doing his best to avoid the coffee. “I… I would really like that,” he mumbled. And then he swallowed, shutting his eyes tight. “… I’m so scared, Dorian…”
Dorian held his boyfriend, trying hard not to have them fall off the edge of the countertop. He looked towards the French Press, slowly pushing it down with one hand while the other held Percy. ”It's ok to be scared Perce, you're not alone in t'at.” He floated a cup of coffee towards Percy, trying to place it in his hands as he grabbed his own. ”You'll make it t'rough t'is, and when you do I'll be right on t'e ot'erside waitin’ for you.”
Percy opened his eyes again, as he felt the cup brush up against his hands. He stared at the coffee inside of it for a moment - and in his mind’s eye it flickered, turning into bourbon. His stomach churned. Even now, he felt the urge - felt the urge to go drink to make everything a little quieter, a little easier to manage. He hadn’t even realized things had gotten this bad, that it wasn’t even just a strategy to use anymore, but something his mind craved.
“I can’t drink this right now,” he whispered, feeling nauseous. He never turned down coffee. He took another breath. And shifted his gaze to look up at Dorian. “How are you not angry with me - not furious? How are you…. still so kind?”
”You don't need my anger, my fury, you don't need to be scorned right now mon cœur, you need someone to listen, love, and care for you. T'is ‘as not'in to do wit’ ‘own I feel. Only you.” Dorian placed Percy's mug beside him on the counter, close enough that if he changed his mind it would be there for him.
Percy nodded slightly, before he bit his lip. “… How do you feel?”
Dorian took a sip of his coffee. Trying not to speak. ”It doesn't matter right now.” He was furious. Not with Percy, not fully, but with himself.
“It matters to me,” he said quietly. “I… I’m scared I hurt you. That you won’t… that you won’t…” love me anymore.
”Well, I'm not and I do ok? My families been t'rough tougher spots, you're still in a good spot to change your ways, besides, I know you wouldn't want to ‘urt me by continuin’ to do so knowin’ full well my families ‘istory.”
Percy looked down at the floor again, as a fresh wave of guilt hit him. He hadn’t known about Dorian’s father’s struggle with addiction until recently. But even knowing that… knowing how much it had hurt him and his family… he still made the choice to find comfort at the bottom of a bottle rather than talking to his boyfriend or pursuing any other option. He’d already made the choice to hurt Dorian knowing this history. He clenched his jaw, barely keeping a fresh wave of tears at bay. He usually felt like a villain when held up against his boyfriend’s heroism - but now, he felt like a monster. Like some wicked, vile, twisted thing.
“But I did,” he said hoarsely. “I did it the night before we left for the contest.”
The cabinet doors rattled as Dorian tried hard to suppress his powers. He'd always had them as an emotional outlet, but he was trying hard not to show it. Otherwise every dish within the kitchen would've been trashed upon the floor. ”Perce…”
Percy lifted his head, looking at Dorian in the eye. He couldn’t hold back the tears any longer, his vision quickly blurring.
Dorian didn't know what to say, what to do. He felt powerless, conflicted in the face of this new enemy. He wanted to hold Percy, tell him it was alright, but it was taking everything in him not to wake the others, not to ruin the kitchen as he held back his own emotions.
It was worse that Dorian didn’t say anything. Percy’s mind supplied a thousand horrible things that could have been said in that space - a thousand different ways he had hurt and betrayed the person he loved the most in the world. He wanted to take a knife and carve this disease out of himself, if that would be what it took to make things right. “I’m so sorry,” he pleaded again. “I thought - I didn’t think - I…” But what could he say? That he thought only weak willed people could become alcoholics? That he thought he was smarter than addiction? He tore his gaze away. It hurt too much to hold it. “I’ll never have a drop again,” he swore. “Please, I…”
”You're right, you didn't t'ink. T'at's t'e problem wit' addiction isn't it? But t'ere ‘ad to be somet'in’. If t'is was a Greek tale you'd be akin to Iccarus, you're own ‘ubris blindin’ you to t'e dangers of t'e Sun. Or t'e likes of Achilles’ wit’ t'is bein’ your ‘eel. But t'is isn't one of your Greek tragedies, t'is isn't t'e world of stories you love so much, t'is is real life, and t'ese mistakes dont ‘ave to define you. You just need to work past t'em and do better. So please…do better…”
He swallowed, falling silent for a moment as he listened. He’d always idolized Greek heroes - for their wits, their strength, their adventures. He thought of their tragedies as narrative devices, not so much as moral failings. And he’d wanted to be like them, he’d wanted it so badly that he’d named himself Odysseus when they asked for a codename. A flare of anger shot through him. He’d named himself after someone who was separated from their loved one for over a decade, subjected to trials and tribulations, forced to struggle and to endure… but in this moment, he couldn’t see anything noble about that. He didn’t want some great epic. He just wanted Dorian.
“I will,” Percy promised. “I will. I - I don’t want to be like them anymore. I don’t want to be Odysseus or any of them. I just want to be your boyfriend.”
