Disclaimer: I do not own Ice Age.
AN: Idea came to me a few days ago, just needed to write it down. Don't really care if it isn't very good, just that I wrote it down. Soto/Diego, just so you're warned. Oh, and if you read any of my other stories, I plan to start updating in about a month. Probably sooner. Review!
His phone rang. Diego looked at it, frowning in confusion as he picked it up and stared at the screen. His eyebrows went up as he recognised the number, completely confused as to why they were calling. He remembered the number clearly, of course - it was how he contacted them that he needed a way to get home, that he was in hospital, that he was strung out high somewhere and needed to be found.
And Diego thought that it was all over after he broke up with him. Clearly not.
Sighing and resigning himself to the call, he smiled at his friends, pointed at his phone, and went out the door of Manny's apartment.
"Hello?"
The voice on the other end didn't change - nervous as always, as Diego had always been the bringer of bad news. "Hello? Diego?"
"Yes." Diego wasted no time. "What do you want? And how did you get my number?"
A sigh on the other end, from a man this time, and Diego realised that he was on speaker. "You're not the only one who kept contact with old friends. Diego…we need you to come over."
"Need?" Diego frowned at the word. That seemed too strong a word. And he was still bitter. "That's what he said whenever he came sobbing to me after he became high and I had to drag his sorry arse back to you."
Diego could practically hear the cringe in the older woman's voice. "Yes, but-" she hesitated. "This is different."
"Different?" Diego spat. "How?"
"He misses you-" the older man began, but was cut off by the green-eyed teenager clutching his phone angrily.
"I can't say the same, I'm afraid. If that's all you're going to talk about, then I'm going to hang up." Diego's voice was final. He wasn't going to tolerate his crap anymore, or his parents' for that matter. If he really needed something, he was going to have to ask himself.
"Please!" the older man begged. "He's in rehab now."
That stopped Diego. "Rehab?"
That was odd. He had refused to go to rehab every time Diego had asked him to, and now he goes there all of a sudden? Just what kind of crap was he trying to pull? He had no time for this.
"Yes!" the woman cried. "For a year now. It's going to be his one-year anniversary tomorrow."
Diego frowned. He let silence fill the phone as he mulled it over. He was finally in rehab, and had been clean for a year now. Diego turned to the room, where he could hear the laughter of his friends. He had Shira now. Nothing good would come out of this, but something inside of him insisted. He turned back to the phone. "Which rehab centre?"
"Virginia Rehabilitation Centre." the woman's voice was so relieved. "We'll text you the address."
Diego made his way to the room he was staying in at Manny's apartment. It was currently four in the afternoon. From where he was…he went online using his phone, still on the line, and found a flight. It took off in two hours.
Making a split choice decision, Diego scribbled down a note on the table in case they found his room empty before he had the opportunity to text them where he was going, grabbed his bag while stuffing his clothes and belongings into it, and made his way downstairs, closing the door behind him.
He booked a hotel as quickly as he could, before putting the phone back to his ear.
"I'm on my way."
Diego walked amongst the trash of the dump of an apartment, sighing. Soto really ought to get a better house - but no…he liked it here. At least, that's what his excuse was. And how cheap the rent was.
But Diego knew really that it was because Soto's dealer lived here. He had tried numerous times to get Soto away from here, but no.Honestly, if the guy loved him so much, then why wouldn't he move out? Because Diego loved him too much to try and risk their relationship by getting him to move away from here.
Dammit.
He looked at Soto, who was definitely high. His eyes were glazed over, and he was lying limply from his chair, a needle on the floor next to him and a tourniquet still wrapped around his upper arm.
If Soto kept that up, he'd one day die. Overdose and die. One day, Diego wouldn't be there to pick up the pieces. He would just keep on following Soto like a lost damned puppy, and one day, Soto would die from it.
Suddenly, Diego felt unmeasurable anger towards Soto, and stormed towards him, dragging him up. Soto's unfocused eyes met Diego's furious hazel-green.
"Di."
He didn't even seem to care. Growling, Diego looked at Soto, eyes narrowed.
"Soto." Soto looked up. "If you don't get yourself clean, we're over."
Soto stared at the white wall opposite to his bed. Finally, his one-year anniversary. He wasn't even sure if he could've made it to six months, but proof was right there. He was officially one year sober, but the person that he wanted the most to find out about this wasn't even here - he didn't even know that he was in rehab.
His parents were outside, talking to some friend that they tried to bore him with the details, but he chased them out.
Now he had plenty of time to think…think about him. It had been…five years since they last talked. He remembered the day as clearly as if it were yesterday. And it might've been clichéd, but it was the truth. The day…he had gotten high. He had never thought that Diego would go through with his threat.
"We're over."
"What?" Soto demanded, looking up from his high.
Diego shook his head, turning to leave. "You heard me. We're done."
And Soto was forced to realise that Diego had been serious all along. He leapt up, grabbing Diego's wrist, but the teenager twisted it out of his grip. "Di. Di-please! Please! I love you!"
The door opened. Diego turned back to Soto. "I've called your parents. If you really loved me, you'll get clean."
And that had been it.
Soto had spent two years after that wallowing in depression, taking drugs and alcohol. His parents had finally snapped some sense into him when they brought up the painful topic of him, and then forced him into rehab. As expected, he relapsed the first time and nearly overdosed, but after his father had a heart attack from the news, Soto resolved to actually try that time.
He moved up, going to go ask about his family, before the door opened.
He hadn't changed. Blonde, light brown and dark brown streaks which made up his ruffled hair, his skin tanned as usual, and his piercing eyes pinning Soto down to his bed. There's a long silence, before Soto broke it first, the familiar nickname spilling over his lips before he could stop them.
"Hi, Di."
"Soto."
"What are you doing here?"
"Heard you had your one-year anniversary." The response was short and curt.
A long silence.
Soto broke it. "How've you been?"
"Fine."
A silence before Diego broke it this time.
"You?"
"Fine."
"What are you doing here?" Soto's curiosity was too much for him.
"I came to see if your parents were lying to get me here. I have to say, they surprised me."
Soto shut up. He knew the bitter undertone of that sentence. They kept quiet for some time as both looked at one another, not sure what so say now that they were seeing each other once again - something they thought would never happen again after they broke up.
"Well, I can see that you're fine. I'll get going." Diego turned to leave, managing to take a few steps before Soto lunged forward, grabbing onto his wrist.
"Stay!" he pleaded. He hadn't seen his ex-boyfriend for over five years - he wanted to see him again for more than fifteen minutes. Diego's body tensed. "Talk to me. What have you been doing?"
Diego didn't turn around. "I went to uni at New York. I lived my life. I found someone." Soto's heart turned to lead, but he forced himself to continue listening. Diego took Soto's silence to continue. "Her name's Shira. She's from Italy."
Soto smirked at that, but said nothing. There was a lull in the conversation that both of them stayed silent in, before Soto looked up at Diego, expression imploring. "Then what happens now?"
"You get out of rehab." Diego stated. "You go back to Uni. You graduate, and you find a job. And, if you want to, you find someone to spend the rest of your life with." Soto looked down, his unasked question hanging in the air. "But it won't be with me."
"Why?"
Diego turned around, eyes flashing. "Because Shira is not just a replacement for you. She knows about us vaguely. She's her own person, and she's just beginning to realise that. Because I've spent too many years of my life trying to pull you out of your addiction, and I'm not going to go through that again, even if you get out sober for life."
He turned to leave, heading to the door, eyes firmly set on it. He reached the door handle, and felt the smooth metal underneath his hand. As he set to open it, Soto's melancholy voice reached him. "If I haven't done drugs…if I got clean, would you have stayed?" the unasked question once again hung in the air. Would you still love me? Do you still love me?
There was a moment's pause in which Soto lowered his head, before a calloused hand reached and pulled his chin up. Rough lips brushed his own for more than a second, before they moved away an inch, parted. "You already know the answer."
Soto blinked, overwhelmed, noticing Diego already walking out the door. He put a hand to his lips, and let out a sad smile even as Diego's footsteps faded away. At least none of that had been fake, he knew it himself.
He took a deep breath. Just another two years sober and he would get out of rehab. And it didn't matter if he was never going to see Diego ever again because of his own mistakes - getting high beyond words and never listening, because he knew that Diego, at one point, and possibly still, loved him.
A warm feeling surrounded him.
You already know the answer.