A/N: This oneshot was inspired by Fred's throw away line in the movie. When they are all at the docks (right before the car chase scene) Baymax suggests that they all talk about things that are bothering them. Fred is very quick to say that he'll go first and opens with the "my name is Fred and it's been thirty days since..." He is promptly cut off by Yokai throwing a shipping container at them. I got to wondering just what it had been thirty days since Fred had had. This is my personal headcanon that has been swimming in my brain for awhile. Please be aware that there is mention of alcoholism/alcohol abuse.
The first sensation that pierced the fog in Fred's mind that morning was painful blinding light streaming through his window. He muttered a curse under his breath as he sat up. Of course he was rewarded with a sharp shooting pain radiating from every point in his brain across his skull. "Hangovers suck." he whined to the empty room.
He pressed his eyes shut to blot out the light and jammed his fingers to his temples. Nope, no use. Fred gave a groan and instead leaned his head back against the back of the couch.
The couch? That wasn't right. Why was he on the couch? A big floral printed one to be exact instead of the red plush one he had in his room. That's when he realized he wasn't in his bedroom. Or anywhere in his house for that matter. Well better a late realization than never Fred guessed. There was just one question though. Why was he in Honey Lemon's apartment? He definitely didn't remember coming over to her place the night before.
"Honey?" Fred called over the pounding of his own head. He winced. "Okay, ow."
Honey Lemon didn't answer. However, the smell of spices cooking rising from the kitchen told him that she was home. Fred pushed himself off the couch and stood shakily to his feet. His vision kind of swam as he tried to regain a sense of equilibrium after not really having one for awhile. The smell of stale alcohol from the night before on his shirt definitely wasn't helping him any either. Though that could've been worse too. He could've thrown up last night. He'd done that about a week ago on the floor of GoGo's apartment. She hadn't been happy.
"Honey Lemon?" Fred said again as he slowly made his way to the kitchen.
He found Honey Lemon in the kitchen standing over the stove. She was cooking up some sort Spanish rice dish that smelled really good to his empty stomach. It wasn't breakfast though. Honey Lemon was blocking the clock on the stove. "How long did I sleep?" he asked as he ran his hand through his hair.
Honey Lemon looked up at him from the corner of her eye. "It's almost noon." she told him in a clipped tone of voice.
"Man that late? Sheesh, thanks for letting me crash here last night. I don't even remember calling you." Fred whistled.
"What was I supposed to let you do Fred?" Honey Lemon asked waspishly. "Let you wander the streets of San Fransokyo drunk off your ass?"
Her accent became more pronounced with every word she spoke. Fred grimaced. It happened a lot when she was angry. He sunk into a chair at Honey Lemon's kitchen table. "I'm sorry for making you come get me. I appreciate it though." he offered with a bright smile.
"Freddy," she started. The venom in her voice had drained away. She sounded more tired than anything else. However, it was obvious pain that marred her face when she turned to look at him. "I can't keep doing this?"
Fred looked up with genuine concern. Tadashi had... had died nearly a month ago. No one was taking it well at all and it showed on Honey Lemon's face. She had bags under her eyes and her skin was incredibly pale. "Honey Lemon, it's tough but we're all..."
"Not that..." Honey Lemon interrupted him quickly. She waved her hand at him stiffly, "I mean this. I can't keep doing this."
"What do you mean this?" Fred asked defensively. He couldn't help it. He knew that Honey Lemon probably didn't mean anything harmful by it but he didn't like how accusatory she sounded.
"You need help Fred." Honey Lemon said. She turned off the stove and came to sit beside him at the table. The sound of the chair dragging across the linoleum grated on his hangover sensitive ears.
"Why? Because I went out and had a good time last night?" he snapped. Fred regretted it instantly. "So I drink every so often. Big deal. I'm of age so what does it matter?"
"It matters, Fred, because it isn't just 'every so often.'" Honey Lemon snapped right back at him. "This is the third time this week."
"You're blowing it way out of proportion."
"You blacked out! You don't remember calling me to come pick you up."
"Okay so I was really drunk. It's happened before once or twice."
"That isn't a good thing Fred! You go out and get drunk almost every other night!"
"I do not!"
Honey Lemon jumped out of the chair so quickly that it startled him. She stalked over to one of the far counters where her purse was. Without a word Honey Lemon dug through her bag and fished out a pocket calendar. She flipped it open to a particular page as she stalked back to the table. Fred jumped again as Honey Lemon slammed the calendar down on to the table in front of him.
Fred looked down at the calendar in front of him. He knew that if he were to look back a few weeks, he'd find the date of the showcase on the calendar. Honey Lemon had outlined it in pink and yellow at one to highlight it. Fred also knew that she'd blacked it out with a permanent marker after the fire. He couldn't bring himself to look at it though. His chest ached just thinking about it. Instead he looked at what Honey Lemon obviously wanted him to look at.
The red 'x's on the calendar. They were big and fat and took up the entire square they were written on. The most recent one was from the night before but the other ones weren't that far away either. There were red 'x's on almost every other date square on the calendar. Anger burned through him as he glared up at Honey Lemon. "You've keeping track of how many times I've gone out drinking?" he demanded.
"Yes," Honey Lemon answered simply and with absolutely no remorse in her voice. Fred had expected her to sound at least a little abashed. Seriously? Who kept tabs on how often their friends went out and drank?
"Have you always done this or is this just a new habit that you've picked up Honey?" he asked her coldly.
"Look for yourself Fred." she told him, matching his tone. He was about to ask her what she meant but Honey Lemon kindly pointed it out.
It was the day of the showcase.
A hard lump formed in the back of his throat. "What's that supposed to mean?" he muttered.
"You have a problem Freddy." whispered Honey Lemon. "Everyone deals with grief differently but your way of coping isn't healthy."
"Honey..." he started but it felt like his tongue was turning to lead. Fred shook his head and tried again, "I drank. Even before Tadashi died. Hell, Tadashi and I would sometimes go out for a drink after he'd been working late on a project. This isn't new."
Honey Lemon finally took her seat again. Her shoulders slumped forward as she buried her head in her hands. "You drank but you didn't do it like you do now. It was only occasionally when Tadashi was still around. Now you're drunk more times than I can count in a week."
"I don't have a problem, Honey." he insisted.
Honey Lemon didn't look up at him. "Everyone's noticed. Aunt Cass is sick with worry over you as if she didn't have enough to deal with between her own grief and Hiro's. GoGo and Wasabi are on the verge of hauling you to rehab."
"I don't need rehab!" snapped Fred. "Rehab is for addicts. I'm not an addict."
"You're an alcoholic. That's a kind of addiction Fred."
"Oh my God!" he growled as he stood up. He forgot about his headache though and the sound and sudden movement didn't do him any favors. "I don't have to listen to this. If my drinking bothers you all so much then I'll remember not to call you anymore. How about that? That sound good to you?"
He turned to leave.
"I've already lost one friend Freddy. I don't want to lose another one." Fred heard her say. Her voice froze him in his tracks. He turned to look over his shoulder. Honey Lemon was shaking. Without thinking he'd whipped around and was at her side. Fred knelt down next to her and took hold of her hands. He pulled them away from Honey Lemon's face gently. "I can't lose you too Fred." she sobbed, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm sorry," mumbled Fred as he pulled her against him. Honey Lemon turned her face into his chest. "I promise. You won't lose me."
"I'm so scared that one day I'm going to get a call from the police telling me that they found you in a ditch somewhere or that you wandered out into the middle of the street." whimpered Honey Lemon. "I see so many horrible things happen to you in my head and I can't get them out. I worry about you every night."
"You won't have to worry anymore." Fred told her. Tadashi's death had left a giant, gaping hole in him. Alcohol seemed to be the only way he could dull the pain of that hole. Then again, it had left a hole in everyone and yet no one else was going on these drinking binges. Maybe Honey Lemon was right. Maybe he wasn't handling Tadashi's death well. Maybe he did need help. Fred pressed Honey Lemon's head closer to his chest and buried his own tears in her hair. "I promise that you won't have to worry about me anymore." he repeated.
"Swear it." Honey Lemon said.
"On my honor." he nodded. Fred meant it.
The National Institute on Alcohol Abuse and Alcoholism states that in 2013 24.6% of people 18 or older reported that they engaged in binge drinking in the past month; 6.8 percent reported that they engaged in heavy drinking in the past month. It also reports that 88,000 deaths occur annually due to alcohol related injuries and is the third leading preventable cause of death in the U.S. Alcoholism affects not only the person abusing alcohol but everyone that is close to them. This is a subject that is very personal to me. Please drink responsibly.