Going My Own Way

The weight of Justin’s stare was doing nothing to calm him down, in fact, it felt a bit like being chained up again — pinned by twin stares. It wasn’t like this was news to either of them. He was fucked up. Wasn’t that the whole fucking point of all this? Calling in the pro ‘cause he was too fucked up for either Justin or Dairen to handle on their own? Exhaling sharply as Justin commanded he breathe, he just folded tighter on himself now that the puppy was out of his lap and let Justin take over the next bit before he got in more trouble for snapping. Instead he let his eyes move away from both of them and out to the streets of Paris, finding that familiar bittersweet feeling of liking the distraction and being terrified that there were people so close to them they didn’t know.

Liz had seen Harris in so many different mind sets over the years. Her biggest regret was not pushing him more and challenging him to get a stable foundation right from that first year because god, would his life have been different. This felt like her fault. For failing him in therapy, for failing to get him away from his family, for somehow not fore-seeing the early doom of his twin. Her husband tried to talk her out of it, her own shrink had cautioned against flying out here, it was crossing too many boundaries - but how could she dare let him down again? Either of them? In all the states she’d seen him in — he’d never felt quite so unreachable before. There’d always been a spark in him and she fought for that tiny spark to get its time to shine, but she didn’t see it anymore. At least not here, not now.

Turning her attention to Justin, she made a point to set her pen and paper down and just listen to what he had to say. There was a sense of pride in him, greatly diminished than what she remembered from Australia, but still, she got the feeling he’d respond better if he felt less like a text subject and more like a colleague swapping ideas back and forth. For Harris, he’d felt safer on the science side, where he could see and understand the how’s and why’s and never minded feeling like a test subject - he was. It was going to be difficult to balance their two different styles without making one feel like he’s not being heard and the other that he’s being heard too much.

The sooner she got them into individual therapy the better, really, but she just nodded as he started off about flashbacks. That was to be expected. She kept quiet, let him puzzle out the root of what was really bothering and then they were both looking back at Harris who had been reluctantly brought back into the conversation he wanted no part of.

“That’s understandable. Most of the individuals I’ve treated or read about with combat PTSD share that same fear. It could manifest in a few different avenues so I’m going to ask you to be patient with me and resist saying the first thing that comes to mind. Sit with it a moment before you answer, please.” She glanced towards Harris to see if he wanted to chime in with anything, but he seemed content curled up as tight as he could be so she looked back at Justin.

“The short-term answer to this is keep a body guard with you, someone you trust to be able to intervene effectively - often people find having this person on speed dial gives them a sense of a safety net - just in case. In your instance, you have other former guards living with you - the amount of time needed to get to you and Harris would be rather minimal, right? The problem with that is that it further estranges you two. It typically makes the person who feels he’s dangerous withdrawal, if so and so can’t go to keep me in check, I can’t go and then you just stop going - you stop trusting yourself alone with Harris ever and what’s not a healthy way to have a relationship with someone. I’m going to ask you to do something uncomfortable if you’re able, but talk me through it. What’s the worst thing that you feel could feasibly actually happen? You have a flashback, Harris gets hurt - do you think he’d leave you? Do you think he’d not forgive you? Or would forgiving you be worse? Or is it you couldn’t forgive yourself?”

To her surprise, the boy in question shifted, before glancing blue eyes back at Justin briefly. “Feel free to correct me, but before we got …. you guys weren’t trained to respond to the unknown with fatal force. Especially you. Jer’s a walking death trap - whether he’s tripping himself, or you, or knocking you into something, or waking you up ‘cause he can’t sleep and made cookies - you wouldn’t have been conditioned to respond to physical stimuli with lethal force. So is this a guard thing or is this a product of being kept just out of arm’s length from me and suppressing months worth of rage and determination to rip down everyone who stood in the way of you getting to me?”

It was uncomfortable to admit, and unbearable to look her in the eyes as he did. His eyes dropped as he spoke, unwilling to hold her analyzing gaze. Regardless of the words that came out of his mouth, they sounded to his own ears like a record repeating ‘I failed Harris. I am failing Harris. I keep failing Harris.’ It was all what the nightmares came back to, really. He’d taken Harris with him to the hospital, he’d left Harris alone in the waiting room, he hadn’t been able to get Harris off of the ship, he hadn’t been able to break them out of the basement, he hadn’t been able to stop them from cutting him. From breaking him. And now he was afraid of doing the breaking.

He coughed, choking back a laugh at the first words out of her mouth. Nothing about the last few months of their lives was ‘understandable.’ He pressed his lips together, nodding tightly at her request. Not say the first thing that popped into his head. he could probably do that. Though even when he thought about it, he wasn’t sure that his second thought would be any better or more acceptable than the first. She kept talking, and at first he wanted to nod and agree, yes they did that. He dragged along Casey or his dad usually when they went places, and knew they’d be okay. If anything happened, one of them could physically restrain him if need be. Until she decided without his input that she didn’t like that solution. He could see why, it did make things difficult, and he could see how it might turn into a problem, if he was afraid to go anywhere alone with Harris. But pointing it out didn’t change it. He still needed someone that could physically stop him if he needed them to.

Justin’s eyes snapped up to her when she asked for a worst case scenario. He broke her one rule almost immediately. “No, I’m not worried about Harris leaving or not forgiving me. I know he would forgive me, even when he shouldn’t.” The last scenario she gave seemed so oversimplified though. Not forgiving himself seemed so… inconsequential. As if he could just be mad at himself and carry on day to day, with Harris beside him, knowing that it could happen again and he could hurt Harris again, or worse. He looked sideways when he felt Harris shifting beside him, surprised when he started speaking. For a moment he was relieved, that Harris was okay with talking, and participating in the discussion, but that relief was almost immediately drowned out by anxiety and panic.

“No, it’s not that— They didn’t train me to respond with lethal force, they just gave me to physical ability to. The basement, TC, they conditioned me to respond with lethal force.” He paused, glancing at Liz. He sized her up for a moment before turning back to fully face her. “Full disclosure? I have been trained to kill. And I have. Twice during this— whatever, these last couple of months. When my dad and Vlad were getting out, I shot one of the men that had been torturing Harris. And on the ship from Australia to New York, I killed another man. He grabbed me, I kicked against one of the crates they were holding us in, and knocked his head open on the crate behind him. I was actually kind of proud of that one. I’m not anywhere near that good of shape to do that anymore. It’s also not the only time that I tried to kill one of them when we were there.” He dropped his hand from where it had frozen, distracted from petting Puck, and tapped his leg through his jeans. “I got stabbed here when I tried to put one of them in a chokehold with my legs. I don’t recommend it. But I have killed, and I’m not sorry. Every single person that I’ve killed deserved it, especially the bastards that did this to us. So that’s what I’m capable of, and what I’ve been trained for. So when you ask me for the worst case scenario, my mind goes to the worst thing that I’m physically capable of.” To his credit, his voice only shook a little over the last few words.

Despite having known - hell, he’d even made plans for it -(lists of lists of things to save for Liz to hear or deal with once she arrived) - her arrival still came as a shock. The bottom of his stomach swooped out, his heart hammered to the point he was afraid it’d be visible if anyone were to lift his shirt, but it was foolish. She was a friend. Not an enemy. Not TC. Exonerated by the list. Yet, there was that nagging fear in the back of his head that just because she wasn’t on the list didn’t mean she wasn’t TC - she just wasn’t high ranking TC. Still, there was no way to take back the permission he’d given for her presence here. And as much as he loved Justin and Dairen - they weren’t equipped to deal with his issues as well as their own and if they were being frank, him and Justin were hanging on by their fingernails. Sooner rather than later that small tether to sanity was going to snap. He needed to do this.

So he just took up his familiar seat by the window when Justin started to toss and turn, trying to convince Puck to curl up next to Justin and offer some comfort where he couldn’t, but the puppy was having no part of it. So wearily Harris gave up the fight, let the puppy curl up on his chest and just tried to breathe in sync with him as music swelled and fell in his ears. There was a peace and calm now in the deepest part of the night that he’d never really felt in the dark of the basement. Then again, most of his and Luna’s adventures or his conversations with his Mum had all happened in the dead of night so maybe he was just used to carving out that time when everyone else was asleep for himself.

His eyes burned every time he flicked his gaze back to check on Justin, having lost count awhile ago of when the last time he’d slept was and for how long. His brain and body were both so so heavy with exhaustion, but it felt wonderful. It slowed his thoughts, dampened his panic, forced him to be still when he wanted to fidget right out of his skin. It almost became a security, something he could depend on to force his darkest thoughts from becoming a reality because he was just too damn tired.

The only problem was that morning always came.

Sometimes with Justin white-eyed with panic and sometimes with just a sad smile as he took in Harris’ position and he’d crawl back into bed for awhile and let Justin hold him until they decided to go face the family or the family came to get them. More often than not, it was Dairen knocking at their door with promises of food for Justin and coffee for Harris.

This time Harris rose as the sun did, digging through the closet and drawers for the right thing to wear. Whatever that was. He wanted every scar covered, he wanted to hide and be comforted by the extra layers of fabric, wanted half-heartedly to ask for make-up to hide the circles under his eyes and the still-fading yellow bruises here and there. But there was only so much he could do and just ended up in a pair of lounge pants and a baggy hoodie with Puck scrambling at his leg because he wanted up again before Justin started to stir.

Scooping the pup up, he approached carefully, settling down once he was sure Justin was calm and alert enough and curled against his chest. He knew the first day was going to be intense. A lot of poking and prodding at them to get a sense of what troubled them and what needed her help the most urgently while knowing that the things they struggled with most would be the most difficult to voice. He already knew he’d be a mess after even if he didn’t manage to utter a word. She was going to bring up every awful thing he and Justin have spent the past weeks trying to bury and pretend never happened. He wasn’t ready to dig that all out. Was’t ready to face it or grieve it or whatever else it was that she thought they needed to do. But when would he be?

His only comfort was that in understanding how rough this would be on them - they’d agreed to have the meetings here for the time being. There was no way Harris would be able to walk the streets of Paris after being forced into remembering. Hell, he and Justin were probably going to instantly revert to how they were the day after. Wide-eyed and terrified.

To his complete lack of surprise, the table had toast, bacon, fruit, and eggs set out and it was to Dairen’s complete lack of surprise that Harris just took his coffee cup and folded onto his chair. Casey was already up, coo’ing a good morning at Puck and getting his food ready so Harris just watched them all until there was a specific knock on the door turning the coffee in his stomach to ice. He wasn’t ready for this.

Reaching out, he found Justin’s hand, desperately twining their fingers together and forcing himself to keep breathe as he heard Liz’s voice float through the corridor, greeting Dairen again and being introduced to Mama K before making it out to where they were. Her step faltered just a little at the sight of them, but her smile never wavered. She waved off offers of food or beverage from the Kleins and just headed towards the porch. “I’ll give you two a moment to get ready, but I’m ready to begin when you are.”

All business then.

Harris wasn’t sure if that was better or worse, but he just aimed a soft apology at Casey when Puck abandoned him in favor of following them towards the balcony, tiny little furry body darting between his and Justin’s legs, seeming almost more like determined to trip them rather than comfort them both at the same time. Taking a seat in the chair he’d chosen for his breakdown to Dairen - was that just the day before? - he pulled his knees up defensively, glancing between Justin and Liz as she got out her papers and journals and got situated.

“It’s good to see you boys again. How have you been holding up?”

Harris hadn’t yet decided if he was going to talk or not, so he stayed mum, bending with a slight grimace to scoop the excitable pup up and let him offer licks to the face and an excited squeak of a bark towards Liz before settling down protectively on Harris’ lap.

“We’re still here.” Harris offered finally, a little more dryly then he intended but immediately regretted speaking at all when both of them reacted to the words.

“Has that been a problem for you two? Do you often wish you weren’t here?”

It was so damn tempting to shut down there, to put up some kind of shield between her and his most vulnerable feelings, but what good would that really do them? The whole point of this was getting to that future Justin deserved and for some reason wanted with him. 

“For me, it comes and goes.” Harris confessed quietly. “I haven’t tried anything and I’m still sober. So it’s just…a thought. A feeling, whatever. Can we leave it at that?”

“For now.” 

“Don’t you have checklists or something for us? We can just mark down the damn boxes and then you’d know and we wouldn’t have to do this part.”

Her eyes were wide and he hadn’t realized how tightly he’d begun to clench until Puck made a discomforted sound and jumped down to take up residence in Justin’s lap instead. Forcing his hands to unclench, he mumbled an apology for snapping and settled back on the chair, glancing over at Justin to avoid flinching as her pen flew across the page. 

“We can start on an easier note. Why don’t you two tell me what you want to focus on first? What’s the most concerning to you or the most debilitating in terms of holding you back from what you want to do? Do you have some ideas on what you guys want to do now?” 

When Dairen calmly stated that Liz would be arriving the next morning, Justin wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel. Was he supposed to be relieved? She was supposed to help, to make things easier and to help them approach something resembling normal. Or maybe he was supposed to be nervous. That was what Harris seemed to be. She would be prying into their heads, forcing them to not only relive traumatic moments but to deal with them head on. To fight the ghosts that kept them tied to the basement in New York. But he wasn’t relieved or nervous. He was almost. Numb. No, not numb. That wasn’t that right word. But he felt like he’d found something close to equilibrium. It wasn’t horrible and it wasn’t wonderful. It was just. Forward. If the word forward could even be applied to them any time presently. Whatever that numb equilibrium feeling was, it was the only thing he could attach to the impending meeting with Liz.

He wasn’t surprised when Harris was already awake, Puck curled in his arms, when Justin was finally able to pry his eyes open. He wasn’t sure hat time it was, but was half expecting for Harris to say they needed to rush to get dressed and become semi-presentable. But he just came closer and curled up against Justin without a word, and that was just fine with him. They could stay there all day for all he was concerned. But they couldn’t. There was a vaguely familiar face to meet with, and memories they’d tried to forget to spill out into the open air. And apparently food to eat. Justin had been getting back almost to his appetite before they’d been kidnapped, but today he just couldn’t. Maybe he was more nervous than he thought. Or that numbness was tinged with a bit of nausea.

At least they’d agreed to begin their meetings at the apartment, instead of relying on Justin and Harris to be able to navigate the streets to find her office or wherever she was staying, much less to navigate their way back. At his mother’s concerned look, Justin nibbled at a piece of bacon, but even that felt like too much, so he poured a cup of orange juice to sip instead. He was almost relieved when the knock came at the door, because it at least meant that his mother’s judgemental gaze would be directed elsewhere. “Hello Dr. Phelps,” he said in a strained, though polite voice. He nodded t their instructions, but he knew they wouldn’t stay seated long. He was counting on it, really. After walking carefully beside Harris, eyes watching Puck instead of where he was going, he found himself on the balcony in a chair beside Harris, one hand reaching over automatically to scratch Puck’s ears, his other squeezing Harris’s hand gently.

Justin wasn’t entirely sure how to answer the first question. The normal answer was to say they were fine, but they weren’t, and she wouldn’t accept the answer anyway. Before he could piece together an semi-acceptable answer, Harris’s words made his gaze snap to his face. It almost sounded…. regretful? But that wasn’t right. Justin shook his head at her question, not looking away from Harris. His skin prickle with a familiar fear that it took him a moment to place; it was the feeling he’d felt when he’d left with Casey for the first time, and when they’d gotten off the elevator, Casey and asked if Justin wanted him to have his dad check on Harris to make sure he was alright. The only time that a fear of Harris being a danger to himself had been voiced, even if in not so many words. Liz agreed to leave it at Harris’s confession though, and Justin wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but he just tried to grasp at that numb feeling he’d had before this started. He couldn’t remember that feeling at the moment. And then Harris was snapping, Liz was wide eyed, and Puck was scrambling away from him to seek shelter in Justin’s lap instead.

“Harris, жених, breathe.” He couldn’t say it was alright, or it was okay, or any kind of comforts that people normally said. They were lies, and cruel ones at this point when they’d both heard them too many times to be believed. So Justin just released Harris’s hand in favor of rubbing circles on his back. He offered a comforting smile when Harris looked up at him, trying hard to ignore the frantic writing going on across from them. Watching her making notes was more stressful that coming up with answers to her questions, knowing she’d have her own interpretations of anything they said.

At least, he thought that until she asked a question. And he wasn’t prepared to answer it, but he was damn sure Harris wasn’t prepared, so he just smiled briefly at Harris before looking up at her. “I can answer first, I guess. I think,” he paused, knowing what he wanted to say, what he needed to say, but finding it so much more difficult to form the words than he’d expected. He opened his mouth but shut it again, unwilling to voice the biggest issues he was having. He had bad dreams? What was he, a fucking five year old afraid of the dark? He knew it wasn’t rational, and that either of them would tell him that his nightmares were far worse than that of any five year old, and he shouldn’t shame himself for it, and whatever. But that was what it came down to: he was afraid of images in his head. Memories. Bullshit. He almost laughed when she asked what they wanted to do now, the same way that people had asked him after he graduated high school. Like there were a multitude of paths to choose from, and all they had to do was pick one and start walking. So he ignored that question and focused on the former, on the most debilitating thing he’d been dealing with.

There was a time once - and only once - Liz had given him a sheet with rows of smiley faces on it. Each of them had an expression and an emotion attached to them and it was supposed to help him figure out how to label the things he was feeling but he absolutely balked at that, offended and belittled that she actually believed he didn’t know what basic emotions were. Now though, he got it. ‘Cause there was all this buzzing energy and warmth that felt strangely out of place in his chest and he had no name for it. It was a lot but not a bad a lot. It’d been so so long since he’d last felt warm.

So finding that he could barely keep his eyes off the hyperactive fluff ball didn’t bother him. Justin got the rest of his attention as Harris drank up the smile on his face as eagerly as he did everything the pup did. And for the first time he forgot to be vigilant. He forgot to be suspicious of Casey, to feel judged and found lacking by Mama K, or to be on his best behavior around Dairen - it was just him and Justin and a puppy and it was perfect.

Playful surprise raised his eyebrows again as Justin proudly announced he and Casey had even managed to go to the store and get puppy necessities. That was not a thing he’d have expected from the fairly impulsive guards but he’d tease them for it later. For now, he just grinned some more and burrowed closer into Justin as the puppy tried attacking him for the monkey. “He’s so precious. Oh my God.” he couldn’t keep the coo’s back, feeling all shiny and ridiculous, but oh my god. He’d never had a pet — too much mess and noise his father had always said and yet he’d always been drawn to other people’s pets. Especially those that their owners would exasperatedly complain that said pets liked no one and didn’t like to be pet and then stand in shock and awe at the purring / sprawling animal that was currently falling all over Harris.

Now they had a puppy of their very own.

“Name?” Harris’ eyes went wide again at the expectation he was supposed to gift the puppy with a name. That was like, a really big deal. “I uh, I don’t know. Don’t we gotta wait and like see his personality and all that? Is it a him? Sorry for misgendering you if you’re not.”

He twisted carefully to apologize directly to the puppy and found himself melting all over again. The monkey seemed so big compared to him and it was just precious. “You’re so cute.” Harris cooed again, reaching out carefully avoiding the monkey to stroke down its back. “But you’re probably starving and dirty.” Turning back, he looked up at Justin and towards the several bags spilling all over the place in their haste to dump ‘em and admire the puppy. “Which one has puppy food in it? Probably needs water too. Did ya get shampoo and a brush?”

Who would abandon such a cute and utterly defenseless thing? Bubble deflated slightly, he turned towards Justin reaching out to link their free hands and squeezing a little. “D’you think he ran away? Is somebody gonna take ‘em back?” He was so in love already, he didn’t want to lose the puppy too.

There wasn’t a single moment when Justin thought that bringing the puppy home was a bad idea. But seeing Harris’s face light up, watching him stare in awe and reach out to pet the puppy— bringing it home was definitely the right decision. Justin’s grin widened at Harris’s shock. “Yes, a name. It needs a name,” he laughed. “That’s fine. Was can wait a couple, til whenever you decide.” He paused to look down at the puppy, and he hadn’t really considered that either. He picked the puppy up, suppressing a laugh when the puppy whined in his face. “Congrats, Harris. We’re now the parents of a cuddly, probably healthy, puppy baby boy,” Justin announced happily, plopping the puppy down on Harris’s leg. “No misgendering here,” he added with an amused smile, because apologizing for misgendering a puppy was a very Ryder thing to do.

“Uh, yeah. Mom, can you and me the bag on the counter? No, the one to the left, yes, thank you,” he took the bag from her and pulled two dishes out and a small bag of puppy food. “I wasn’t sure what kind of food he’d like, so I just got the smallest bags of a couple different ones, and we can see which one he likes. We can try this one first. It’s all natural, I think. That was my best guess from the label, anyway.” He poured some of the food into one of the dishes and stood up to fill the other one with water. “We can give him a bath after he eats. I forgot a brush, but we did get shampoo.” Honestly, he’d only remembered the shampoo because he and Casey and been trying to guess at what color his actual hair was as they were walking through the store. Casey said he was definitely white, with some darker spots around his face, but Justin was certain he was grey. Just a lighter grey than he looked covered in dirt, but he couldn’t see a single white patch of hair on him. The couldn’t decide, so they’d gotten shampoo so they could see who was right.

“He didn’t have a collar,” Justin said quickly, trying to reassure him. “That collar’s one that me and Case picked out. If he just ran away, he’d have had a collar or tags or something. or at least not been covered in five layers of dirt. No one’s gonna take him away, baby.” He leaned down to give Harris a quick kiss, raising his hand to run through his hair. “He’s ours, okay? He’s yours. No one’s gonna take him away from you. Me and Casey will fight them if they do.” He stood back up and went about starting to unpack the pet supplies and groceries. When he looked over and saw Harris still watching the puppy, happier than he’d been in— fuck, Justin didn’t even know how long— he couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his lips. And maybe it was calm. He felt calm. A heavy hand squeezed his shoulder, and he didn’t look away from Harris. He knew the gesture, and recognized who it was before his dad spoke quietly behind him. “He’s gonna be just fine.”

Somehow the balcony was a bit like stepping off the grid - it became a place out of time and removed from everything else - so it took him a minute to realize that the noise filtering through the now opening door shouldn’t be there. Instinctively, he dropped behind Dairen, already calculating the distances to the next balcony over and how far the ground really was when he caught Justin’s voice - and was that - … was that a laugh?

What a strange day for Klein men today.

Relaxing just enough to be able to move, he continued to trail after the eldest Klein, uncertain what all the hubbub was but there were a lot of excited voices coming out of the kitchen. Groceries generally didn’t cause such a stir so he grew uneasier the closer they got. Part of him wanted to just run for their room ‘cause what if it was a trap — but Dairen had a firm hand around his shoulders, keeping him in place.

Granted, that almost wasn’t enough when he saw all the bags strewn haphazardly on the table and counters ignored in favor of everyone kneeling on the ground. He didn’t even have time to form the question before this tiny fluff ball escaped patting hands bee-lining for them.

Part of Harris wasn’t sure he was seeing what he thought he saw, but the tiny puppy stopped to briefly sniff at Dairen before barreling full tilt for Harris.

Or well, as much as he could with his questionable control over his limbs and while skidding over the tiles.

Without being conscious of it, Harris’ lips turned the furthest up they’d had in months, a strange sound leaving his mouth as he immediately dropped to the ground too, giving the puppy full rein to scramble over him. Gently, he raised his hands, running them over the small puppy as he wriggled in both excitement and in exertion in his (or her) attempt to lick every part of Harris they could reach.

“What is this?” Harris said finally, pulling his gaze from the little cutie to give Justin a puzzled look. It seemed the puppy was easily distracted because it followed Harris’ gaze, gave an excited little wiggle then launched himself out of Harris’ lap to go back to dancing for Justin’s attention and affections. Casey was huffing and telling a playfully embellished story of saving the puppy from a building falling on it much to the apparent amusement of the senior Kleins.

Harris for his part just followed the puppy’s trail to Justin, stretching to give him a kiss on the cheek and the mouth before settling against his side and giggling again when the move seemed to excite the puppy all over again into trying to wrestle them both for affection.

Casey continued to talk while everyone else busied themselves with putting groceries away but Harris just ducked his head to Justin’s shoulder, hand stretched out carefully to pet the puppy while trying to recall what he’d learned in pre-med classes. “It’s young. Old enough to have been weaned and onto solid food, but … barely. He’s sore, but he’s not immobile so I doubt anything’s broken. Probably just needs a bath and some good moods and lots of affections to be completely 100% again. Did you really bring home a stray? I’m - I’m quite speechless.”

There was a certain kind of happiness caused by cuddling a fluffy and excitable animal that wasn’t really matched by any other kind of joy. It was the kind of joy that was contagious, exuded by the small fluff ball, that couldn’t help but be reflected by everyone around it. Which only excited the puppy further when Justin scratched its ears and taped its nose playfully. There really wasn’t much arguing to be done, and Casey must’ve realized as much, because he was taking the responsible part of leading Justin towards a pet store that they’d passed on the way to the bar. It didn’t take them long to stock up on the basics. Trying to get the puppy to hold still long enough for them to measure and find a collar that fit probably took the longest, but it was worth it when Justin set the puppy down in the middle of the toy aisle and let it run around excitedly to pick out what it wanted.

After almost falling face first into one of the piles of toys on the bottom shelf, it started jumping up on its hind legs and yapping at one of the toys hanging above it. Justin pulled down the brown and pink monkey, laughing in surprise when the puppy jumped and all but tore the monkey from his hand. He scooped the puppy up in his arms, and it still wasn’t letting go of the death grip on the monkey. Good luck to the cashier trying to ring the thing up. He and Casey picked out a couple other toys, tennis balls and chew toys, and one tug-o-war rope that Justin was determined to get the puppy to play with him. Justin just laughed and shook his head when Casey picked out a stuffed bear that was twice the puppy’s size. It took them longer than strictly necessary to pick out food and water bowls, with Casey focusing on things like practicality, and Justin wanting the cool looking bowls that, arguably, were large enough the puppy could probably bathe in. After they finally settled on everything, and the puppy was still happily carrying its monkey, it had been long enough that Justin started mumbling about Harris and his dad being worried where they were. The store was only about ten minutes from the apartment though. Maybe a few minutes longer with the additional baggage of not only groceries, but also a wriggly puppy and supplies. They spent a few minutes outside the store tearing the tags off of the collar and leash so Justin didn’t have to carry the puppy, but it still refused to let go of its monkey.

When they finally made it back, Justin pushed open the door and the puppy darted inside, bouncing excitedly before realizing it was tile and sliding about a foot into the entryway. His mother was just inside the door, and knelt down immediately to coo over the puppy. It finally released the monkey in favor of trying to climb on his mother, and he couldn’t help but laugh as it slid back onto the tile and couldn’t quite get its footing to try another attempt. He took the leash off and dropped it to the side along with the other bags in favor of kneeling down to pet the little fur ball. He looked up, ready to yell down the hall for Harris, when he saw his dad coming in from the balcony, a familiar, cowering head behind him. “Har! Hey, brought you a surprise!” He grinned, watching Harris kneel down to welcome the puppy that was half running half skidding across the floor towards him, smiling, really smiling, the brightest he had in so long. And yeah, it was a good decision, bringing the puppy back. Without question. It hurt, but in a good way, if that were a thing, watching Harris play with the puppy. So surprised, and happy. Actually fucking happy. Something about this, he wasn’t sure what, but something about watching Harris, surprised and happy, playing with a puppy that was just as surprised and excited about all the attention, gave Justin, for the first time since New York, a feeling of…. not quite calm, but something close to it. Acceptance maybe, or reassurance. They’d be okay. This would be okay. They weren’t incapable of happiness. They weren’t incapable of feeling things besides fear and pain. And if it took a tiny, excitable puppy to remind them of that, then that was a burden Justin was more than happy to bear.

As usual Casey was ready with a shrug and a smile as Justin started to sheepishly apology for his behavior. “It’s okay. Forgiven and forgotten all that, man.” He’d been the one on the fringes growing up - the runt so to speak - or the outcast as Luna was oh so eager to label him. Cohen and Justin were the shining stars and he was just the clumsy goofy dork in the background looking up to them. Now he finally had that friendship with Justin he’d always secretly kind of envied and now couldn’t keep from repeatedly fucking it up. How’d Cohen and him do it? It seemed the only way to keep peace was to bite his tongue and well, he was horrible at that. Case in point pretty much every time his mouth opened.

It wasn’t surprising to hear that Justin knew though actively hated the fact that he couldn’t solve Harris’ coping issues himself. The fact he could admit to knowing the difference between warden and boyfriend - that one was a little surprising. Although, hope-inducing. “I don’t fault or blame you for feeling like that. You know him better than any of us ever will and if we’re concerned with our lack of knowledge, I can only imagine how it is for you — but the point applies to you as well. You aren’t alone and you don’t have to ‘handle’ Harris and his obstacles alone either, okay?”

Casually he flipped a finger up as he gathered their trash, finishing his beer and tossing it away as he grumbled inwardly about six mile runs. Fuck and that. Seriously, he was never even looking in the direction of a track again, like ever.

It went easily enough, tracking down the various fruits and vegetables his mom had requested and less easy to resist impulse buying pretty much everything. A quip was burning on the tip of his tongue as Justin wandered into a book stall of all things, but he managed to swallow that one and just roll his eyes as Justin grumbled about not being able to read the titles. “Maybe try asking your French-literate friend or using your phone to see what the title is in English. Long-term goal - maybe learn some french beyond ‘je t’aime.” he teased.

Picking up a few intermediate-to-advanced books for himself, as well as a few comics he’d fallen behind in he shrugged and shook his head at Justin’s question. There was really nothing else on the list and given the unspoken of temporary arrangement of their current lodgings it seemed stupid to buy much for it. “Do you wanna get Harris some flowers or a stuffed teddy bear or somethin’? Chocolates?” Maybe even he couldn’t turn down a cute box of French chocolates. “Oooo or macaroons?!”

Goodies acquired, he started to nudge Justin towards home, uncertain how much pain the guy was actually in and whether he’d ever get to a point where he’d admit to it. Physically, of course. There was no hope for him to talk much about what was going on in his head and in his heart.

That’s part of why his own heart raced double time when they started to walk down a smaller street and he picked up faint sounds of distress. Immediately, he wanted to turn around and get Justin the hell out of there, but … pausing, he listened a little harder before his eyes widened and he took off at a light jog.

Those cries weren’t human. They were a very small dog’s.

Ducking behind a garbage compactor without a second of hesitation he easily spotted the tiny bit of fluff trapped under some sort of metal/wood contraption thing.

“Hey there, gorgeous. It’s okay. We’re gonna help you.”

Their scent must have hit the puppy because its head picked up, pained whimpers turned into pleading yaps as Casey ducked down to see what exactly the damage was. It looked like a paw was caught and so he carefully shouldered the mass up and away and instantly the puppy was shooting around his legs and barreling straight for Justin.

Figures.

Justin’s apology went over as well as he’d expected, and that kind of made him feel worse. He was being a shitty friend, but if Casey was fine with letting it slide as long as he realised what a shitty friend he was being, then all he could do was try and fix it moving forward. Things felt almost normal—whatever that was— again when Casey casually flipped his middle finger at Justin as they cleared out form the bar, and Justin’s smile was genuine for one of the rare times he could remember recently.

He was thoroughly distracted by the farmer’s market, partially looking for what they needed and mostly to keep himself focused and not panicking. It wasn’t until Casey made a comment about his French-literate friend that Justin tore his eyes away from the scene and looked back at him. “Oh right,” he said, sounding and feeling a bit stupid. “Right, right. Your redneck French. So hey, are these books ok for Harris? They’re not like, porn or something, right? Or at least not straight porn anyway,” he added with a casual shrug, though the half smirk gave him away. It might be worth having accidentally picked up some gay erotica book just for Casey’s reaction. It might also be worth taking one home for Harris’s reaction, but Justin wasn’t about to go searching through the boxes for one.

“Are the macaroons for you or Harris?” Justin teased. “Yeah, we’ll stop and get you some. Maybe some chocolates for Harris.” He wasn’t entirely sure that Harris’s meltdown over the french breakfast his mom had made a while ago wouldn’t extend to other decidedly French foods, so maybe it was safer to stay with French-but-still-identifiably-American-version foods. Granted macaroons might fall into that category, but they still felt a little too close to Parisian home for comfort. Once they’d collected the required sweets, Justin followed Casey’s direction towards home, most of his mental capacity now focused on not limping. Balance, not limping, it was fine. He didn’t need his damn cane, and he would not arrive home limping to have his mother fussing over him and demanding that he use it again.

He didn’t even actually notice anything was off until Casey was jogging, and Justin’s first thought was, fuck you I’m not jogging. His second thought was, fuck is someone behind us? Casey wouldn’t be jogging when he knew Justin’s leg was still injured unless he actually had to. But then his ears caught up to the scene and he tuned into the whimpering sounds as well. He stayed several steps back, eyes scanning the ground out of regrettably-learned habit, until they locked onto a broken pipe leaning against a trash can. He reached towards it, fingers curling around it as he watched Casey, ready to jump in if needed, but the tiny fluff ball flew right past Casey as soon as it was freed, and practically tackled Justin’s legs. Or leg, anyway. The one he was currently trying to ignore in throbbing pain, and in all the strength left in it, it caved when a fucking cotton ball ran into it. Justin caught himself halfway down, leaning half on the pipe and landing on his good knee, which the cotton ball immediately decided to try and climb. When ti stopped moving around enough that Justin could actually see it’s face, he couldn’t even be upset with it for the fresh bout of pain shooting through his leg. It was dirty, several shades of grey, brown and black, but it’s eyes shined bright and wide, tail wagging happily as the puppy decided to continue it’s pursuit of climbing onto Justin.

That was the stickler of the whole thing, wasn’t it? No matter who’d gone through what — nobody’d had the same challenges that Harris now faced. As much as they could sympathize and to some extents manage to empathize some…there was no guideline. No clear answers on how to solve the most simple problems and on top of that given their understandable trust issues, they had a very small network of people to contact for help and advice. And apparently as a part of that small circle, he was doing an absolute shit job of comforting or helping Justin — again. “I’m not saying anything definitively. I’m not Harris and the only thing he’s shared with me so far is that he thinks I’m TC trash, so, take what I offer with a grain of salt. I’m just trying to share my mistakes with you so hopefully you and Harris can benefit from what I’ve learned along the way.” Hesitating as he weighed the pros and cons of saying what he was thinking outloud, he started to fidget with his label as Justin got a little more agitated, trying to reassure himself that Harris was on the way up the hill and not starting from scratch. Eventually he lost the battle and his mouth ran away on him. Typical. “He got to that point before all this because he had shit coping strategies, right? He didn’t know how to deal with all that’d happened to and around him at that point? And so he’d reached a rock bottom of sorts and he had started making strides with Liz and your Dad to find healthier means but he hadn’t had a chance to master them. I think it’d be a fair concern to expect those baby steps to fail and for him to turn to what he’d learned has worked however temporarily. Relapse is part of recovery. Every one of the big A’s will tell you that. I’m just — I’m putting it out there to maybe consider being prepared for it. I’m sorry.”

And there went his friendship with Justin yet again for another couple weeks. He raised his bottle to finish the last dregs of it as Justin huffed and grumbled about everything coming down to the same thing. “Look, since I’m on a roll and saying all the shit you don’t want to hear and likely aren’t going to get to talk to you again for awhile — I’m just gonna say it. You can’t fight this for him, Justin. You could keep him in that house, never let him near a store, never bring a bottle of wine or beer over the threshold and he’d still end up drinking. You can’t fix this for him and I get you want to help and you want him to have the best chance of success but 98% of that  rests on his shoulders. The best thing you can do for him is accept that and then focus on working through your shit. To get your head on straight and then just try to keep shit as normal as possible for the both of you. You saw it with the guardees — it does more harm than good when home starts feeling like a psych ward. Try and be his like, I don’t know, fucking sanctuary, not his warden. Keep giving him reasons to want to keep fighting it, to want to keep living, to keep striving towards whatever future the two of you want for yourselves. I’m here and I’ll always be here to be an ear when you need, or a sparing partner, or a running mate, but I’m capping you at like, 3 miles. I’m getting too old for that shit and life’s too short to keep huffing and puffing any farther than that, ok?” Casey slid some money on the table and gripped Justin’s shoulder as he stood up. “You’re both gonna get through this Justin. I promise you that me, your parents, Liz, Ryder - Alyssa - everyone that loves you guys is going to do all we can to ensure the future the two of you earned, alright? We’ve got this.”

Figuring Justin’d probably kill him if they walked too much longer, and also figuring his shit mood could pose a damper on others trying to shop if they went to one of the adjacent ones, he settled for a mid point to give Justin some time to fume off the worst of it and then usher him towards a small hole-in-the-wall type place that opened up into a larger farmer’s market type place. He figured Justin would feel better with separated booths and high ceilings than the tiny aisles of the local grocers. “You remember what she needs?” he asked, scanning the crowd first for all the things that’d been engrained in them then again to actually see what was where and plan out a route for them to go through.

Justin couldn’t help but just stare at Casey. There was some part of his mind that understood, that wanted to say that he knew relapse was part of it, hell, his dad had relapsed quite recently if he’d forgotten. And maybe it was the way Casey phrased it— it probably was, neither of them were the best at phrasing things the way they meant— but Justin wasn’t quite as ready to accept it as inevitable. “If he relapses, fine, we’ll deal with it. I’m not saying he’s perfect. But I’m also not going to put a bottle down in front of him, or publicise the fact that I can just go out and get a drink without him, when he’s vulnerable and having a hard time pushing through. Relapse is one thing, but I don’t think any of the A’s highly recommend open temptation and encouragement.”

He picked up his drink again and took a sip, cringing when he set it down at Casey’s words. Had he become that asshole? The one whose friendship was determined by whether or not he was pissed off? He used to be the kind of friend that would get pissed off, then forget about it and go get a beer with whoever he was pissed off at—usually Cohen— five minutes later. Now he was the one whose friendship was lost for weeks apparently, over a few ill-phrased words that he didn’t want to hear. The worst part was that he didn’t even know why. He didn’t know which of the recent tragedies had spurred that change of character, whether it was the lack of contact with anyone in the basement, or the betrayal of everything he’d believed to be true by virtue of the agency. “I’m sorry,” he muttered sheepishly. “I’m sorry for being a dick, alright? I’m not going to stop talking to you… Again.”

Rubbing uncomfortably at the back of his neck, Justin shrugged his good shoulder. “I know,” he said quietly. “I hate it, don’t get me wrong. But I know. It’s on him, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do anything to make it easier on him. Or to make sure he knows he doesn’t have to fight through it alone.” He sighed, nodding and setting the empty bottle back on the table. “I know, you’re right. And fuck, I’m not trying to be his warden, but how do I— I’m just worried about him,” he settled on finally, deciding that any further argument is going to undermine his point anyway. What was wrong with trying to help? With encouraging sleep when Harris was awake when Justin drifted off, and still awake when he woke up? Justin had to huff out a short laugh at Casey though. “Three miles out and three miles back, right?” He asked, just to be difficult, really. He couldn’t run three miles at all right now. He was doing good to walk as far with his leg only aching in protest, but not quite to the point of buckling underneath him. When they got back home, he probably wouldn’t be able to move much for a solid hour or two. But it was worth it to get out for a little while, to stretch and move and feel productive.

“Have you seen French men?” Casey whispered as loudly as he dared. “I’m sure just as many American men hit on them too. They’re like…walking ads, man.” At least his french went well enough to get them beers and a private table and now he could just focus on Justin and what was wearing on his mind right now. Which surprise, surprise, was Harris. And Harris’ feelings. “Klein, he’s not gonna smell one beer on you unless you miss your mouth completely and end up wearing that whole bottle home. If it’ll make you feel better, we can stop for some food or a coffee before we go back. But I do think it’s something you and Harris should talk about — once he’s back on his feet a little more solidly. You know, what happens if you’re at a party and there’s alcohol around, what if you order a glass of wine with dinner, maybe it’s a thing your parents can help out with, talk about their feelings on it and what helped and what didn’t.” Taking a long pull of his own beer, he glanced down to read over the label for a moment in a move not at all designed to break eye contact for a bit. “One of the biggest mistakes I made with Luna was not realizing there was a difference between choice and availability. I thought you know, she’d gone weeks without using whatever was her vice of choice i was most worried about — so yeah, she could handle going to a party. And within minutes she’d you know find a way to give me the slip until she was flying high and needy for my attention. I think…normalizing it would help him the most in the long run when your guys think he’s ready for it. Does that make sense?”

Picking at the label, he looked up when Justin started with the ‘I probably shouldn’t tell you this but…’ ‘cause damn, that’s a guaranteed way to snap someone’s attention to you. Part of him should probably feel a little guilty about hearing all this vulnerable and potentially shameful things about someone who could barely say hello to him in person, but he didn’t. If the best friend he could be for Harris right now was puppeteer, offering Justin advice and wisdom, then he was just glad to have the chance to do something. Anything. Letting Justin rant it out, he took another long pull of the beer before stretching a hand out automatically to stroke through Justin’s hair as he thought about what to say. “I’m trying to figure out how to say this in some sensitive way but I can’t think of one. Harris has a shitton of grief to work through. I don’t think what he said to you was a result of alcoholism as much as it was one of grief. He was friends for years with Ellie, Cohen, Natasha, Blythe - God, remember? It was like such a thing during a party if Ellie could convince him to have one drink. But I think he’s shut that part of himself away so he doesn’t have to feel their loss, doesn’t have to feel that pain, but if he can work through that - there’s nothing to worry about for either of you. From what i could tell Ryder and Alyssa were cupcakes. Neither of them would ever take Harris anywhere like here but I think it’s another point to what I was saying earlier. I think the goal shouldn’t be get all the alcohol in the world away from Harris before he sees it, but to help him to a strong enough place, he could walk in here and hopefully not even be tempted, but if he is, he could still say no. It’s possible he’s preemptively afraid of their grief, watching them deal with it, watching them feel it, it’d trigger his own he’s not dealing with and that could be why he was scared he’d be driven to drink around them. Luna was the master at avoidance and she’s taught him well. Liz’ll help.”

Justin couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the words. “More like walking commercials. The accents don’t hurt. Okay, then your new task; to find a non-French person, male or female, that’s not been hit on a thousand times by tourists… Who is probably also here looking for a French guy. Best of luck,” he added, tapping his beer against Casey’s with an amused smile. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this. Being with his best friend, just drinking a beer and talking about pointless bullshit. Until the conversation turned to less pointless bullshit, and Justin was pointedly reminded why he wasn’t allowed to have that easy camaraderie that they’d had before. At least not yet. Not until things were back to something semi-normal, when he could sleep without nightmares, and leave the house without worrying over what would happen to Harris in his absence.

“Maybe,” Justin muttered, setting his half-empty bottle on the table and twisting it around in circles. “I guess I’ll try and talk to my mom about it. Maybe my dad. Hell, it’s not really even the same thing. My dad gave it up cause he’s a stubborn prick. I mean, more than that, I guess, but that helped a lot. Even if my mom drank every day in front of him, it probably would’ve been about me every time he told me he was going to AA and I told him to fuck off and just skip the fake angel act and get his ass back to the bar. Just made him more determined to give it up. But Harris, he needs more support than that. He actually gives a shit what the rest of us think, and counts on me and my dad to help him through it, not do anything to make it harder on him.” He lifted the bottle back to his lips again, in spite that, and took a long drink of it. He froze at Casey’s words and eyed him uncertainly as he set the bottle back down. “So you think, what? That because there wasn’t alcohol in the basement, he’ll start drinking again now? I mean he wasn’t—He’d started to give it up back in Australia, before—“ he waved his hand vaguely around them, “before everything. That’s gotta count for something, right? He wasn’t, you know, kidnapped why he was plastered and then forced to go cold turkey. He’d been sober for at least, I don’t know, a week or two? Or maybe it was only a couple days. Fuck, I don’t remember.” Trying to remember it felt like trying to remember a children’s story that was read to him when he was a toddler. The memory was there, somewhere, but it was so distant and fuzzy, the details were unclear.

Casey knew things were different now, that they’d always be irrevocably so, but he’d gone through that with Luna. God, it was like every month with her something about something was lost and gone forever and he used to live for the small bits and pieces of her from before would come out. It was entirely an unhealthy relationship and a fantasy on both sides of people who don’t exist but he caught himself doing the same thing now with Justin. If he got a swagger, a smirk, a quip, it was like a small sigh of relief. It made him a bit uncomfortable to realize, honestly, because … he’d been so focused on the kids, on getting and keeping them safe, and then bringing them home then turning his attention to the next two that could never call New York home again that he just…forgot. How can anyone have shit to deal with when compared to what those two had gone through and yet, it was there in the flash of relief. The guards had been trained for so long and from such a small age, to protect at all costs - the protected is all that matters. Sure, they had psych evals, but that was just to make sure they weren’t compromised and could still put the protected first. Which granted, he managed to both fail and excel at because Luna always came first but it was because he loved her.

He’d never managed to divorce himself from emotions or opinions like the others, and some saw him as a weaker guard for it. He’d never had the taste or drive to proudly boast a kill count and he was mind numbingly bored by electronics after an hour or two. He’d always been the one they’d tease and make fun of because he embraced his emotions and he took risks with Luna because what was the point of being alive if you never were alive?

It was a question he hadn’t thought about for a long time.

And it made him uncomfortably realize just how much he’d gained and lost in a little over a year. There was probably a shit-ton of unprocessed grief and anger and fear that had been pushed down and ignored for so long but now wasn’t the time or place either. But it was a start, and more importantly — a reminder.

He was no longer a guard.

No longer just a guard.

He was a person now. With rights and opinions and worth that had been denied to him so long, he was going to be reminded like an idiot about it for an embarrassingly long time. Justin would too. Though, Justin had the benefit of having to remind his boyfriend - shit, fiancee - so at least Harris could remind Justin. Casey’ll have to leave himself sticky notes.

Luckily, Justin agreed to the beer first, because goddamn did Casey need one. His mind was whirling and none of it in a good, attentive, or helpful way for Justin right now and needed immediate clearing. Still, even with his head - he kept a close eye around them and on Justin, allowing the other to survey the options and go with the one he had the best chance of remaining comfortable at. At least he hoped that was Justin’s internal criteria because goddamn did he not want to get into a fight today.

“Date a guy,” he mused. “I mean…never say never, right? The door’s not closed. I just don’t see myself impressing very many french men. I’m a bit…simple. And worse, American.”

Happily, he followed Justin into the closest honest-to-God pub and had to take it all in with a bit of delight. It wasn’t quite what he pictured and he hoped they could visit the UK and maybe Ireland one day because he so wanted an authentic drinking experience, but it was still better than the ritzy ‘bars’ of New York. It was the first public place he felt even an inkling of possible future comfort. But it was dim and a bit loud between the tvs blaring football games and the roar and hushes of the fair sized lunch brunch. He could see it being a problem for Justin so he ordered two beers for the patio and grabbed a menu to take with them too, just in case.

Passing it off to Justin after he selected the best tactically positioned table, he gave some thought to the question he’d been posed. “It’s not bad that you don’t want Harris to know. I did a lot of things I didn’t want Luna to know about. I beat myself up over them, but eventually I began to realize that it wasn’t a selfish thing like I first thought it was. It was just another way I was trying to protect her from herself. Depending on what mood you catch Harris in, I think it could go either way with him. I think majority of him would want to be understanding and genuinely would be. He’d be so happy for you to come out and do something with me even if it’s drinking something he can’t. And yeah, the miswired part of his brain would rebel, would get angry, but he’s not going to resent you for it. And even that anger— it won’t last long. Because either he’d come to the realization himself or your Dad would help him to it that for him, he can’t have just one but that doesn’t mean that you can’t or that you shouldn’t. He wouldn’t want you to deny yourself things you want because his ability to … stay in control is currently compromised, you know? He loves the shit out of you, bro. Give you guys a little credit.”

Pausing to take a sip of a beer, he had to blink, pause, and take another because it’d been a really long damn time since he’s had the pleasure and god, was it a pleasure. A simple one. But it was cold and Justin was here, and for a little bit, they were safe and things were once again, finally – simple. 

There was something about walking through Paris with his best friend that made things… not easier, but almost feel like they should be easier. This was what normal was like, it was what he’d been missing and what he thought he needed. No, it was what he needed. It just felt so strange, yet distantly familiar at the same time. He even cracked a smile at Casey’s words and shrugged. “You’re not simple. You are American, though. Gratingly so, to the French, I’m sure,” he teased. “French men are probably easier to impress than French women though. French women probably get hit on by American tourists all the time.” Inside the pub was another, strange yet distantly familiar atmosphere, but unlike that of just being around his best friend, this one was suffocating. It was crowded, more so than he remembered bars being back in New York, and he wasn’t really in a state to figure out if that was because he was so unaccustomed to being in public places, or because it actually was smaller.

Thankfully, Casey led him back outside, beers in hand where they found a table on the patio. It didn’t escape Justin’s notice that Casey had chosen the only table from which the door to the bar, and down either side of the street, and the back alley were all visible. It was the table Justin would’ve chosen if he was acknowledging the agency-trained part of his brain. But he’d decidedly shut that part down, or at least tried to, so he didn’t comment on it. He looked back at Casey, taking a sip of his beer as the other started talking. It didn’t taste like guilt or betrayal. It tasted fantastic, actually. The burn in his throat was something he hadn’t missed until he felt it again, and the taste must be something uncommonly French, as it didn't taste familiar, but likely was from a local brewery. He hummed at Casey’s words, twisting the bottle around in his hands to try and read the label, but he couldn’t pick out a single word. He was supposed to feel guilty though, wasn’t he? He wasn’t even sure why, because Casey was right. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was still allowed to have a drink even when Harris couldn’t. “I guess I’m more worried, if he smelled the alcohol, you know? Is it worse so say, ‘Hey I had a drink when I know you can’t and I’m sorry I smell like it and that’s gotta make it harder for you,’ or to say that we just went to the stores and came back, said we didn’t go anywhere else and he smells the alcohol and thinks I’m hiding something from him? Because I would be.” Except that it wasn’t about him, it was about Harris. And Harris was the one going through so much shit, and apparently even talking to their friends made him want a drink.

Casey was casually watching a somewhat suspicious character be suspicious when Justin decidedly broke the bubble of silence surrounding them. It didn’t come exactly as a shock that an apology was the first thing he said, but it had been surprising that the words hadn’t come much sooner. Granted, Justin had a shit ton on his plate and Casey’d kept his distance not wanting to pressure or rush, but it had been weird. Still, he’d missed his best friend and kinda felt like he hadn’t been able to stop missing him yet and that sucked. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he listened as Justin tried to explain and than give up a couple words in and debated internally for a moment about whether or not he should push it more. But for once, there were enough people looking out for Justin, especially with the shrink on her way, so he just shrugged and knocked his shoulder lightly into Justin’s. “Water under the bridge. You’re forgiven. I mean, after you buy me the customary beer, of course.”

Justin probably had enough people walking on eggshells around him and Casey was going to attempt to not do the same. He’d probably slip up but for now he just shrugged and shot a smirk Justin’s way. “Honestly? We’ve probably passed it twice now. I was just trying to get you some time to storm around and brood and maybe begin breathing before I dragged you into a grocery store. It’s weirdly intimidating here with the tiny stores and the buckets of everything and all the French. Though, admittedly your Mom was very specific about what stores to get what. That might get a little complicated. D’you really think she’ll taste a difference in the apples?”

He was pretty sure she just had the same thing in mind and wanted them to run around town for awhile, understanding her son in a way he probably didn’t give her enough credit for. “You wanna storm around some more or should we start attacking the list? Do you even know what some of this is? I’m pretty sure that whole section there are cheeses? Or maybe wines. No, not wines. That’d be dumb. Maybe it’s pasta? You know what. I’m going to start a thing. It’s going to be a wonderful thing. Men all around the world will rush to buy it. It’s going to be called the Pic’nshop and it’s going to be a visual shopping list of exactly what the woman behind the list wants so we can’t fuck it up.”

It wasn’t all that surprising when Casey forgave him without question or hesitation. This was far from the first fight they’d had which was entirely Justin’s fault. Not even so much as fight as much as Justin just being an unreasonable dick. Justin just gave a an apologetic, half smile though, and shrugged his good shoulder. “Of course. It’s not a real apology without a beer.” He debated for a moment saying that they shouldn’t tell Harris though, but bit his tongue. It was another weird place where he wasn’t sure what the correct protocol was. He’d never worried about it with his dad, mostly because he’d been too busy acting like a rebellious little shit. But he wanted to be supportive for Harris, and he wasn’t sure how to. Obviously he wasn’t going to suggest buying beers to take back to the apartment, but was it okay to tell Harris that they’d stopped for a beer? It felt like it was worse to keep it a secret from him, like they were hiding something, but it also seemed like it might be more harmful than helpful for Harris to know. He settled on just not purposefully bringing it up, and if Harris asked why they took so long to go grocery shopping, he’d figure out what to say then. Or possibly see if Harris would postpone his question long enough for Justin to ask his dad.

He couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh at Casey’s words. Of course he would be the one to lead Justin around in circles multiple times just to let him cool off. “Hell if I know. Probably. She’s weird about her cooking. So maybe. Or maybe she just wanted to keep us outta the house a bit longer,” he added with a shrug. Not that he would blame her if she did, either because she, like Casey, knew Justin needed time to just walk, or because it was getting a bit too crowded and she was glad for the excuse to kick them out for a little while. In either case, Justin was grateful for it. Justin plucked the list from Casey’s hand and scanned over it. “Cheeses, I think? I know that one’s a cheese. She always complained that it was crazy expensive in New York, because it was imported. She’ll probably stock pile the stuff now that she can get it straight from the vendors.” Justin laughed and passed the list back to him. “That would be a fantastic solution to your problem. Another solution: date a guy. So much easier, and less guessing,” he teased, though he wasn’t even sure how accurate it was. It wasn’t at all, actually. Justin would probably actually find that helpful, especially when he was wading through all of the vegetarian non-meat products that all looked the same.

Casey had stayed closer this time, wanting to intervene before things got to a point they were bad again. For the most part, from what he could tell from the little he’d seen of them, they weren’t wildly swinging anymore. They’d seemed to settle into a certain level of functional fucked-upness that had no real place in it for anyone else. Which sucked, ‘cause like everyone in that house just wanted to bend over backwards and fucking move mountains and shit to make things easier or bearable or really just to see them relax or god, smile. There was no shortage of things he’d give or endure to see his friends genuinely happy again even though he knew that was like months down the line. Probably. It just…in his darkest moments made him feel like this was his own fucked-up destiny. That no matter who it was, or what he did, or how hard he tried — he was literally incapable of helping. He couldn’t help Justin. He couldn’t helpLuna. Hell, he couldn’t even help Nate while he took two strangers under his wing and got them to safety all on his own. For his entire fucking life’s purpose being literally dependent on protecting people that was ironically hilarious, wasn’t it?

Harris’ quiet question both pulled him out of his darkening thoughts and surprised the hell out of him simultaneously. He could like count on one hand how many times he’d been addressed by the baby of their group since New York. And to make it even worse he had to pass off the one request he was given off to Nate since he was like the computer expert person and Casey really didn’t wanna fuck that shit up. He would not be responsible for leading anyone unsavory back into their lives.

He was just…muscle. So he was quick to offer when Mrs. K held up a shopping list and was already making plans on which of the little deli stores to hit to get what she needed when Justin and Harris piped up. Justin wanted to go to? Casey’s knee-jerk reaction was to say no. Lately any time he and Justin got in the same place alone things just went all sideways and fucked up and he had no interest in doing that again. But Harris was getting that look on his face and so was Justin and there was something to be sad about doing something minutely physical to get yourself out of your head. If he wasn’t so injured, Casey’d taken him to a gym ages ago.

“Yeah, sure. We won’t be too long. We may have to hit a few but we’ll be back soon. Any special requests, lil H?”

Harris’ eyes flicked up to his briefly, but he wasn’t surprised by the no. As much as they all tried to pretend things were normal and fine, meal times continued to be a source of house-wide tension. This time, Casey just let it go. He and Harris weren’t on good enough terms yet, but he made a mental note to try and find something special to bring back for him.

Excusing himself briefly to grab a jacket and discreetly arm up, he met Justin by the door, got the few add-ons of things ‘she’d forgotten’, waved at Dairen and Harris, then quietly led Justin out of the door and down the stairs. Unable to resist turning guard mode off, he subtly checked Justin over, making sure he was ready enough to walk outside and did another quick survey of their immediate surroundings and people, but saw nothing to send up red flags. So he pushed the door open and got them both out onto the street.

Justin’s hand bounced anxiously on his leg as they were getting ready to leave. His eyes flicked to Harris again when Casey asked if he had any requests, and he made a mental note to get some fruit and yogurt anyway, despite the denial. And possibly some chocolate. Chocolate covered cherries or blueberries still counted as fruit, right? It wasn’t until they got to the front door of the building and he watched Casey give him that look—the ‘guard’ look— that he realized what he’d agreed to. Leaving the apartment, leaving Harris, again. When the last time— He clenched his fists and followed Casey out into the sunlight. Harris would be fine. He was okay. He would likely be more stressed if Justin stayed, given how he’d gone off that morning, and Harris must know he needed to breathe. Or at least that was what Justin told himself. Another small voice was quietly asking if he should really be outside. If he should be trusted outside, after he’d yelled at and tried to attack shadows and invisible attackers. What if that happened again? Casey couldn’t snap him out of it. He could subdue Justin though, if he needed to. And unlike Harris, Justin trusted that Casey wouldn’t hesitate putting him in a chokehold or just knocking him over the head with something heavy to keep him from hurting anybody if he had to.

They’d gone maybe two blocks with Justin warring with himself inside his own mind before he realized that he hadn’t had so much time to argue with himself in silence in a while. It took him only a second longer to realize that it wasn’t supposed to be so silent that he could. He glanced sideways at Casey, watching the guard look sweep across the street, lock onto every passing face that Justin had started blurring out. Some part of him wanted to do that too— to watch, alert and ready for danger. But a more stubborn part of his brain dared the danger to come. Didn’t want the warning, partly because he really wanted to punch something, but more because he resented the instinct to go into guard mode, and the agency that had instilled that instinct in him. But Casey still had that instinct, even though Justin was fairly certain it wasn’t entirely that instinct that kept him focused and ignoring Justin, but also the fact that the last time they’d been alone hadn’t exactly gone well. Had it been a week? Two? Longer? The days ran together now, and there wasn’t much point in keeping them separate. But it had definitely been a considerable length of time that he and Casey hadn’t been on the best of speaking terms, and guilt clawed at Justin’s chest. Not even because of what he’d said and how he’d acted, but because he’d been too wrapped up in himself and Harris to remember or even care to fix things with Casey.

Save maybe a dozen ‘I love you’s’.

Despite all the bravado and confidence he displayed for his boyfriend — he kept none of it himself and had to sigh a little in relief when the kitchen came up empty. He knew it was wrong to want to avoid just about everyone save for Justin and Dairen, but there was little room left in him to care. His focus had began to drift without his notice and jerked back as Justin started to talk, shattering the illusion of quiet and privacy they’d stumbled upon. Microwave? Oh. Right. Those were a thing and people used them. Shaking his head slightly at himself, he moved to collect two of the pastries from the collection still on the counter still having to reel in the desperate need to pull them apart and check them for tampering.

Carefully, he put them on a plate, wrapped them in a cloth, and slowly lifted them up to slide into the microwave with a little grimace. When he dropped back to the flats of his feet, he had to kick himself because leaving Justin to figure out the french microwave would have been hilarious, but just punched in for a few seconds, stopping it before it beeped and flipping them over, doing it one more time before carefully removing them and setting them aside. The coffee’d take more time so he moved over to where Justin was, mindful of his injuries, but still needing to be close as he tucked himself against Justin’s chest. He should probably have been productive and gotten out milk and sugar or honey or whatever Justin’d want in his coffee, but he was getting so exhausted trying to stay a few inches ahead of both their demons and keep their heads above water. Surprisingly, he was tired to the point, he didn’t even bother to lift his head when he heard footsteps, familiar now with each person’s gait and knowing it was Casey without physically needing to turn around and see it for himself and confirm he was alone and weaponless.

“Hey guys. How’s it going? I was just on my way to your room. Nate and I were doing our weekly check in and apparently Alyssa and Ryder are badgering him about video calling you guys again. Is that something I could interest you in? No pressure. They’ll totally understand if I ask for another time.”

Justin was looking forward to the distractions that the kitchen offered, no matter how minor and short they would be. His skin still felt like it was buzzing, like static electricity that was waiting to discharge. Everything just felt slightly off, and he needed to move, to do something. If he stays in one spot too long if he focused inward too long, he felt like he’d go back. It was illogical, he knew. He was awake. Really awake, and he knew where he was. He knew Harris was the one dropping his hand to go and make breakfast. He knew the figures outside were familiar, friendly ones. Still, he didn’t really stop in one spot for very long, and when he did stop in front of the coffee maker, he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, back and forth.  His fingers tapped restlessly against the counter, and he listened intently to the hissing and gurgling of the coffee maker.

To his credit, he didn’t jump when someone came up behind him. He knew where he was. He was just… unwilling to trust his own mind enough to stray further than the confines of the kitchen. But he was present here, now, and so was Harris. So Justin turned, leaning back against the counter and wrapping his good arm around Harris. He’d been forgoing the sling for a day or two, but his shoulder still rebelled if he moved it too fast or too far, so he had to concede to only let his hand rest on Harris’s arm, instead of being able to wrap him up completely. He took a deep breath, leaning his head down slightly to rest his cheek against Harris’s head. He didn’t realize he’d let his eyes fall closed until they were snapping open when he heard the glass door to the back porch sliding open. He raised his head from Harris’s, but didn’t bother pulling away when he saw Casey.

“Hey,” Justin greeted, his voice sounding surprisingly drained and worn out, despite having just woken up. He was about to ask since when they’d been doing weekly check-ins, because he hadn’t noticed, but he probably had missed a lot of things recently that would have made Lacey cringe and yell at him to be more observant and aware. Didn’t matter much now, or maybe it mattered more now. Hell if he knew, but he was too tired to even care. Catching up with Nate sounded good, though. Like something close to normal, even if he didn’t know what that really meant anymore. Looking forward to speaking with old friends counted as normal as far as he was concerned, and he couldn’t blame Alyssa and Ryder for wanting to catch up with them, considering the last time they’d spoken, he and Harris must’ve looked like petrified, skittish little animals. Besides that, talking and listening to their friends meant more time of not focusing on his own mind, and he was all in favor of that.

Actually, now that he could peel himself off the headboard, there was more than just his head present at that protest. Flexing his fingers from the wrist Justin’d had grabbed made them all tingly but he tried to keep it tucked under the towel as Justin dug around in a drawer. How did they keep collecting so much random stuff for being essentially two hermits? His cheeks went a little pink as Justin got closer, taking the towel away but this time cleaning him up a little before making him hiss out at the expected yet still surprising sting. It never failed to awe Harris just how strong his boyfriend was. On the edges of a nightmare that probably featured him and blood, he was pulling himself together and treating him with all the kindness and gentleness nobody but Harris would believe he could be capable of.

“I love you.” He said softly. “And you still amaze me so much. Do you know that?” Buoyed a little by the first rush of purely positive feelings that he could remember in his resent past, he decided to push himself a little more and try to return the show of strength with one of his own. “Pain au chocolate.” he corrected. “You’re in Paris now. And you haven’t really truly lived until you’ve tried one. C’mon. Maybe they’ll still be warm and we can steal some coffee too.” Real coffee. With milk for flavoring not diluting. Climbing carefully off the bed, he reached to entwine their fingers and half-drag Justin out to the kitchen. Food hadn’t been an area he’d been making much progress, but today felt different.

Justin really didn’t care much what people said about denial and avoidance being unhealthy. No matter what Liz would likely argue with him, there was something to be said for distractions. When he had a goal, something in mind to focus on, it was so much easier to forget about the nightmare. To see the blood on Harris’s face and let the panic give way to concern. He carefully cleaned off the drying blood from Harris’s face once the bleeding had stopped, and wadded up the towel to throw in the laundry. “I love you too,” Justin said, leaning forward to steal a quick kiss. Justin just shook his head when he pulled back, uncertain really what to say to that.

Amazed him? Justin could’ve just seriously hurt him, and he hadn't even been fully aware of it. “I don’t know why you’re so amazed,” he said honestly. “That could’ve been a lot worse than what it was.” At least Justin was fairly certain he wouldn’t hurt Harris in one of his flashbacks, as long as he recognized him. Maybe this nightmare had proven that. But it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t hurt somebody else, or that he wouldn’t hurt Harris if his fiancé caught him off guard, or if Justin was just too far gone to even recognize him. He balled his fist to keep his hand from shaking and stood up, walking to the closet to find a shirt. Focus. Small tasks. “Coffee sounds great,” he said, his words coming out slightly muffled as he pulled a t-shirt over his head.

In the moment, it felt like it took years between heart beats and barely drawn breaths, but eventually Justin’s grip slackened and fell off his arm completely, the only signal he was given that his fiancee may be back with him. Or on the way to be back to him at least. Patiently, he waited out the shaky not quite here nor there period where you weren’t sure which part of your brain to believe until Justin was softly calling his name and twisting around to look at him. Now was a horrible time for his eyes to fill with tears but he couldn’t stop the guilt from rushing up and threatening to drown him.

“M’alright.” he mumbled, raising his free hand up to gently squeeze Justin’s before pulling the towel away, hoping he could stash it out of Justin’s eye sight and that he’d miraculously managed to form a scab in the last five minutes or so. He’d forgotten part of anemia was slowed to halted wound healing and that it’d take longer for his body to recover from stupidly simple injuries. “I just nicked myself shaving. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I tried to find one of those white pencil things so I could make it stop before you saw but I - and you - and shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Are you okay? You’ve never - I mean, you’ve seen me but you’ve never…yourself…I’m so sorry.”

Harris was going to have to ask Dairen when’d Liz was expected to arrive because they weren’t going to be able to do this on their own. Left to their own devices, they were just beginning to completely unravel and spiral and he didn’t know how to help Justin stop. “I can, um, let me clean up and then we can … we can …” They couldn’t do much of anything anymore. They spent most of their days right here, no longer able to nor cared enough to interact and push forward. “Rest.” he settled on finally with a little shrug and a quick look up at Justin’s face. “I’m so sorry.”

Watching Harris, focusing on him and his hand squeezing Justin’s helped keep him grounded, and he was starting to feel more present. It was weird, coming back down from that. He’d had a flashback once in the kitchen, but it felt different this time. Maybe because it was field by a nightmare first. It felt like he was still trying to convince his mind that it wasn’t real, because his mind had spent too long there in the past hour or so.

Justin immediately grabbed at the towel when Harris tried to hastily stash it out of view. “Don’t, you need to keep pressure on it,” he said, tugging the towel back and finding a clean side of it to press against the cut on Harris’s face. “I’m back, I’m here. Promise. It wasn’t your fault. I was just—“ he broke off, not really sure what to say, or if he needed to say anything. Harris had had more flashbacks than he did. It just happened that his weren’t as violent and active as Justin’s were. “I’m alright.” He probably wasn’t, but it was what Harris needed to hear, and what Justin needed to hear his own voice say out loud. He paused, looking at Harris uncertainly as he described a white pencil thing, until it clicked what he was talking about. “You mean a кровоостанавливающее карандаш?” He asked, then shook his head. “Sorry, I only know what it is cause Vlad gave me one. I don’t know the English word for it. He gave me one to keep close in case we needed it though.”

If Justin was trying to drag him down into the basement — he was doing a damn good job of it. The pressure on his wrist, against his back, it was hard to keep himself present and believe they were in Paris in a bedroom and Justin was having a full-blown dissociative flashback.

This was all his st upped fault. He knew it as a bad idea to let Justin see. He should have gone straight to Dairen.

Think, Harris, think. What helps you? What did Ellie do the first time she found him hiding from invisible monsters? She drug him out and made him play tea party. That was not going to help here. Think brain, think. He shifted slightly, using Justin’s back as a prop to help hold the towel to his face and apply pressure as he reached with the free hand to grabble for the iPod that was never far from his side these days.

It wasn’t much but for him it made the line between here and there definitive. Sometimes it was the only thing he had, but it kept him grounded enough he could find his way back … eventually. So he just slipped the earbuds in one of Justin’s ears and hit play, hoping whatever it was would be jarring / loud / soothing enough to start to chip away at the dark concrete currently flooding Justin’s mind.

The other he leaned closer and started to talk. “Jay, it’s just me and you. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re out. We’re in Paris. You’ve protected me. You just… you had a nightmare and now it’s okay, darling. Come back to me. Listen to the music, listen to my voice, ignore them, don’t watch. Feel me behind you, feel the beat of the music, find your heart and your breath and follow it back to where I’m waiting for you. Can you do that for me, Jay? Please?”

Justin reached behind him when he felt Harris press against his back, gripping at Harris’s arm. Just stay there, don’t move, don’t go towards them, stay behind me, stay safe. The shadows blurred, the lights streaked across his vision in unnatural patterns, the figures moved, appeared, disappeared, came closer. He blinked fast and shifted back, pressing against Harris, fingers tightening on his wrist to make sure he was still there, still safe. He jerked when he felt something pressing into his ear, but froze, eyes focused on a spot of light beyond the door. It wasn’t the sound of cruel laughter, questions or screams in his ear. It was— Bon Jovi? That didn’t make sense. But then there was another voice, a more familiar voice.

Jay. Paris. Protected. Nightmare. Ignore them? How could he? They were there. They wanted to hurt Harris. Except, maybe they weren’t. This wasn’t the basement. They were out. His fingers squeezed Harris’s arm once more, a silent plea to stop him if he was wrong, before dropping down to the concrete floor under him— except it wasn’t concrete. It was soft. And the room wasn’t a musty old basement. It slowly came into focus, somewhere between Harris’s voice, the second verse of ‘You Give Love a Bad Name,’ and Justin’s uneven breathing. They were out. They were in Paris. They were safe.

It was a selfish thing to want to lose himself in the floaty haze of drunkness, but he was growing so tired of failing to cope. Each day felt like he was just desperately trying to hold it together and failing miserably. If it wasn’t Dairen he was letting down, it was Mary. And if not Mary than Justin. The worst part was even if he retreated and refused to do anything - that was letting all three of them down and further increasing their worry and he just didn’t know what to do anymore. At least drunk he’d managed to mostly function like a normal human being last time.

That drew a bitter snort out of him that there even was a ‘well, last time I was reeling from being kidnapped and injured’ in his life. What had his life become? He was twinless, essentially homeless, a refugee, an orphan, and a college drop out. What a fantastic future he ended up having. His teachers were right-on about how fucking bright it was going to be.

Reluctantly, he spat out the mouthful of toothpaste he had, unable to really shake the habit of brushing a few times - just in case- before glancing up towards the mirror. It hadn’t gotten less strange to see the face in the mirror, he could hardly call it a reflection if he didn’t recognize it, but he hadn’t yet perfected the art of shaving without looking. And he had to shave. It was one of the first things that separated here from there when things got blurry.

Part of him wanted to ask someone to cut his hair, but the last pictures anyone had of him his hair was short and neatly done so it felt a bit like a disguise to keep it long. One more defense against getting recognized and grabbed again. So he just shoved it back and wet his face before starting the process of cleansing, lathering, shaving.

He caught his eyes closing a few times and tried to shake off the heavy drowsiness that followed him around closer and closer each day. He’d have to venture out for coffee after this, though even that had quickly lost its effectiveness. It seemed they either both laid there and stared at the ceiling all night, or Justin’d start to toss and turn sending him scrambling for the window seat before he woke up all haunted and trembling yet still trying to convince them both he was absolutely fine.

Maybe he was.

What the fuck did fine mean anymore anyway?

Bringing up a heavy hand, he started the process of line up, pull, rinse, tap, repeat. It was too easy to fall into a lull and the next thing he knew his head was jerking up and his jaw was stinging.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Adrenaline cleared his mind enough to delay the impulse to get out and get out now just long enough to grab a wash cloth and wipe off the sink before the fear and nausea drove him out.

It was enough to stumble into an unfamiliar room and see Justin’s darkened lump under the sheets to jar him back into the present and keep him there, but he was still shaking violently as he tried to hold the cloth with one hand and quietly dig through the bags the Kleins kept adding to of ‘essentials’ they might need.

Toothpaste, deodorant, shaving cream, various after shaves, body washes, shampoos, lotions, aspirin, a small medicine cabinet, - there had to be a styptic pencil somewhere. Each rustle made him flinch and increased his already ragged breathing, but he didn’t hear a noise from Justin after each pause so he kept going.

Justin’s hands pulled at the chains on his wrists. They didn’t release. They never released. He opened his mouth to yell out for Harris, unsure if words would even fall from his mouth. They sometimes did, usually not though. But he tried uselessly to yell at the men who he knew were moving towards Harris. Sometimes they came for him; he preferred those times. He could bear that easier. Stop, stop, STOP!! His voice didn’t work, but he tried anyway. The lights came back on, blood red this time, and in the middle of the room, Harris strung up. Too thin, ribs showing, but his skin was barely marred by a few scratches, as if they hadn’t pulled him up and done this the night before.

“Where is it? Where did he hide it?” The questions came, and as much as Justin tried to talk, yell, scream, no sounds came out. A thin line appeared under Harris’s rib cage, draining down in other lines until they stopped at the waistband of his tattered jeans. It looked almost black under the already red light. STOP!!! His voice failed again, and another neat, black line trailed over Harris’s too thin chest. He pulled at the chains again, panic suffocating his lungs. There was a rustle, and a whimper when the blade touched next, and Justin shot up, pulling at the chains again until his wrists finally came free, even as everything shifted.

Harris’d tuned out, fingers playing idly with the headphone wire while trying not to sink too far into his own head. It’d been a long crazy couple of days for them and while he was no longer a stranger to dealing with his insomnia uncaffeinated anymore, it was somehow different knowing coffee was just downstairs and off-limits. His name being screeched through the phone pulled him out of the haze though, first looking around in the room in some confusion before dropping his gaze to the cellular device. “Darling?” he asked quietly, voice coming out much rougher and softer than he’d intended. He cleared his throat like that’d help and sat up a little, unbelieving of what he was hearing. She was babbling faster than he could keep up - especially because it felt like all the air’d just gotten kicked out of his chest. It more than caught him off guard how badly he wanted her here, for her to understand without him having to ever voice a word, for any pill, liquid, or powder she might have to make him feel vaguely functional again, or better - to forget, if only for a few hours. She always brought out his most destructive side but she was somewhere far away and that just made his eyes fill and start spilling over. “Luna.” He begged nonsensically, unaware he was on speaker on that end until he heard hiccuped sobs that weren’t his own. “Jer?” Instantly his mind flooded with soft and warm and quiet. Jer’d been the only one who didn’t try to push or shape him in anyway - he’d just always been there to hold Harris when he wanted it, to dry his tears, or let him sit quietly on a counter to watch him bake. He was the literal definition of comfort and now he was sobbing too, though trying to use the sleeves of his too big sweater to muffle it. “Miss you guys.” he got out eventually, feeling small and alone and so very far suddenly.