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May. 2nd, 2008 11:45 pmHe let the dog back home, and found a note from Frogspawn by the door. He managed to pull it in without going outside.
'Okay, be careful in there sweetie. And don't forget to come home if you need hugs or kitten therapy. I'll hold off your parents if necessary. F x
P.s. Eat.'
He smiles slightly. She already knows him too well. He's alone in his room, just reading the note, and, er, not having eaten.
He looks down at his hands. They're still shaking. They've been doing that for a while. It's moments like this when he's glad at least if he loses his mind that there's a national health service back home...
He's not going back to that. He's not spent the last six months getting off medication to end up back where he started.
He's... tired. Really tired. It's so hard to hold back the waves of adrenaline and fear that keep ripping away at him. He spent the whole of last night holding back the biggest panic attack since... well, since Atton was missing presumed DOOMed.
He sits on the floor, holding his shaking hands on his knees, and finding his refuge in quiet prayer for their safe return.
Then, he reaches under the bed. His hand touches two things, and he brings them both out. One is a bottle of whiskey, covered in dust. The other is a small leatherbound book.
We all have our demons...
The bottle goes back under the bed, and he gets a pen out. He flicks to the nearest clear page, and begins to write.
'8 QJ Q D9J0353 RQ8O743 59 J6 RQJ8O6, R483HEW, QHE 5Y3 Y7JQH 4QD3 8H T3H34QO. 8 QJ E492H8HT, QHE 85W H95 3F3H J3 8H 5497GO3. 8 RQ8O3E 697 QOO, QHE 8'J W9 W9446.'
He tucks the book back under the bed, curls up on the quilt, and holds his shaking hands against his chest.
'Okay, be careful in there sweetie. And don't forget to come home if you need hugs or kitten therapy. I'll hold off your parents if necessary. F x
P.s. Eat.'
He smiles slightly. She already knows him too well. He's alone in his room, just reading the note, and, er, not having eaten.
He looks down at his hands. They're still shaking. They've been doing that for a while. It's moments like this when he's glad at least if he loses his mind that there's a national health service back home...
He's not going back to that. He's not spent the last six months getting off medication to end up back where he started.
He's... tired. Really tired. It's so hard to hold back the waves of adrenaline and fear that keep ripping away at him. He spent the whole of last night holding back the biggest panic attack since... well, since Atton was missing presumed DOOMed.
He sits on the floor, holding his shaking hands on his knees, and finding his refuge in quiet prayer for their safe return.
Then, he reaches under the bed. His hand touches two things, and he brings them both out. One is a bottle of whiskey, covered in dust. The other is a small leatherbound book.
We all have our demons...
The bottle goes back under the bed, and he gets a pen out. He flicks to the nearest clear page, and begins to write.
'8 QJ Q D9J0353 RQ8O743 59 J6 RQJ8O6, R483HEW, QHE 5Y3 Y7JQH 4QD3 8H T3H34QO. 8 QJ E492H8HT, QHE 85W H95 3F3H J3 8H 5497GO3. 8 RQ8O3E 697 QOO, QHE 8'J W9 W9446.'
He tucks the book back under the bed, curls up on the quilt, and holds his shaking hands against his chest.
