TW for mentions of drinking/alcoholism and self-harm

they mean everything to me

sup· port | \ sə-ˈpȯrt
transitive verb
: to keep from yielding or losing courage

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xx
november
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Sting is right, and Joel doesn't get out on bail. Instead, words like 'arraignment' and 'preliminary hearing' and 'testimony' get tossed around while Gray curls up in the bedroom and refuses to talk to anyone.

Natsu sits with him, sometimes, running his fingers through Gray's hair and telling him that he's brave, he's safe, he's going to be okay. Gray wants to believe him, but he feels like a scared, stupid little boy, and he's so, so tired.

Three days after the hospital, Kelly comes back to take more pictures for evidence. Gray can't even look at her, just stares dully at a crack in the baseboard as the camera shutter clicks again and again and again.

After she leaves, he can't stop crying. When he tries to lock himself in the bathroom, he realizes that he can't, because someone took the lock out of the handle. He knows why and he wants to scream in frustration, but instead just stares at his reflection in the mirror – red and black and blue and broken.

When Natsu finds Gray curled up in the shower, fully dressed with the water running as hot as possible, he doesn't yell or cry or lecture. He just turns off the water and slips into the tub next to Gray, ignoring the dampness spreading through his jeans. He wraps his arms around Gray and holds him close, running his fingers over the bright red skin of Gray's arms.

"It hurts," Gray whispers, tears hot on his cheeks. "I... I wish he'd..."

He can't say it, but he knows that Natsu knows what he means. Neither of them says anything, and Natsu just sits there, steady and calm, while Gray cries and cries.

That night, Gray can't sleep. Natsu is unbearably hot next to him, the sheets scratch his skin, and every time he closes his eyes, he feels Joel. Joel's lips on Gray's, Joel's fingers around Gray's throat, Joel's hand scrabbling at Gray's pants.

Gray can't remove the thoughts, so he tries to replace them. He tries to think of Natsu, kissing him at the lake. Natsu, touching Gray in the back seat of his dad's car. Natsu, pressing against him in the alley behind the bar.

Suddenly Gray really, really wants a drink.

He carefully slips out from under Natsu's arm, patting Bella's head reassuringly before closing the bedroom door behind him. Nobody else is up, and Gray wanders into the kitchen. A thin ray of moonlight spills through the curtains and across the countertop, and Gray traces it with his fingers before looking up at the cupboards.

"We don't have any alcohol."

Gray jumps at Sting's voice, spinning around and grunting in pain when he hits his hip on the edge of the counter. Sting is next to him immediately, but when he reaches out for Gray's arm, Gray pulls away, shaking his head.

It's hard to see in the dark, and Gray is suddenly terrified that Sting is angry. His heart leaps into his throat and he takes a step back, wrapping his arms around his stomach. Sting must read his mind because he slowly reaches behind him and flips on the light.

When Gray looks up, he realizes that Sting's still in uniform, and he's yawning and rubbing his eyes. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Sting says. "I just got home. You hungry?"

Gray shrugs. He hasn't been eating much – both because it hurts like hell to swallow and because he just doesn't really care. Sting gestures to the fridge before moving carefully past Gray.

A few minutes later, they're both sitting on the couch with bowls of ice cream – Sting now dressed in sweatpants and a faded Star Trek t-shirt. Gray's trying to eat slowly, but as soon as he takes a bite, he realizes how hungry he really is. Sting doesn't say anything when Gray finishes his own ice cream, then accepts Sting's offer of the rest of his, too.

A comfortable silence settles between the two of them after a while, broken only by Frosch and Lector hopping up onto the couch, drawn by the promise of food. Gray lets Frsoch lick some of the melted ice cream from his fingertips, while Lector shoves his face in Sting's bowl much less delicately.

"Don't tell Rogue," Sting says, grinning as he scratches Lector behind the ears. Gray laughs, setting his bowl down on the coffee table and then curling up in the corner with Frosch settled into a purring ball in his lap.

"Catch." Sting reaches into his pocket and tosses something over to Gray. Gray's too slow to grab it, and when it bounces onto the couch, Frosch immediately bats at it. Gray nudges her away, then picks up the item and examines it.

It's a small, bronze coin with a triangle in the center, and the letter 'V' surrounded by the words unity, service and recovery. Around the border it says, 'to thine own self be true.'

"It's a sobriety chip," Sting explains. Gray's eyes widen as he realizes that it's not the letter 'V,' it's the roman numeral for '5.'

"You..." Gray runs his thumb over the coin, then looks back up at Sting, who gives him a small half-smile.

"I know it fucking hurts like hell," Sting says gently, "but I promise that drinking will just make it hurt worse."

"I don't think it can hurt worse," Gray whispers, running his thumb over the chip.

"You'd be surprised," Sting says. "Ask Natsu about the first time he met me." Gray raises an eyebrow. "I threw up on his shoes," Sting adds, and Gray's pretty sure his cheeks turn a bit pink.

"Really?" Gray has a hard time picturing Sting drunk.

"Mm." Sting tips his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "I was a wreck." He's quiet for bit, then adds, "none of it helped – drinking, drugs, hurting myself." He holds out his arms and Gray can see thin, white scars running across his freckled skin. "I thought that maybe I could hurt myself worse than he hurt me, and then I'd be in control, but… that's not how it works."

Gray thinks about the broken glass, the torn flower petals, the tiny red beads of blood across the bruises.

"I feel stupid," Gray says, rolling the coin between his fingers. "I… you all tried to help me. Before. And I just—I didn't listen, and I should have, and now it's just… and there's this stupid part of me that doesn't want him to get in trouble, that's still scared that he'll get angry at me."

Sting reaches out and nudges Gray's foot with his own. "You can be scared and still go on," he says. "I haven't seen my dad in ten years and I'm still terrified of him."

Gray frowns. "That's… not very reassuring."

"No, I didn't…" Sting shakes his head, still looking up at the ceiling. "I just meant you're not stupid. It doesn't matter how long it took, you left, and even if you hadn't, you still wouldn't be stupid. I know it's not that easy."

"If…" Gray focuses on running his finger over Frosch's nose. "If I hadn't left, he…" He sighs, shaking his head. "What if I'm never okay?"

Sting's foot touches Gray's again, but Gray can't look up at him. Instead he focuses on the ridges of the coin under his fingers.

"'Okay' isn't really a thing," Sting says after a while. "I still…" He pauses. "Does it help, if I tell you this stuff? Or does it make it worse?"

"It helps," Gray says, so quiet that he's not sure Sting can hear him.

Lector has settled onto Sting's chest and Sting scratches behind his ears. "I still have nightmares," Sting says softly. "There's still things that set me off – little, stupid things, and suddenly it's like I'm this…" He swallows, and Gray's stomach twists when he realizes that Sting's got tears in his eyes. "I feel small. Helpless. Trying to figure out what I did wrong so I can make it right, even though nobody's really angry."

Gray's torn between relief that Sting understands, and grief for the little boy that experienced so much hurt.

"That doesn't go away," Sting continues eventually, wiping at his cheeks. "But you get better at living with it. At recognizing when your brain is lying to you. At trusting people. And you can't do that if you're drunk or high or hurting yourself."

Gray lets out a shaky breath, staring down at his hands. He feels a bit unreal, like this is all happening to someone else and he's watching it from far away. Part of him wants to let go, but Sting is brave, and Rogue is kind, and Natsu is safe, so maybe Gray can stay.

"You should sleep." Sting sits up, nudging Lector onto the floor and pushing himself to his feet. He reaches out to Gray, helping him up and then gesturing toward the bedroom where Gray can hear Natsu snoring softly.

"It'll get better," Sting says, squeezing Gray's hand as he takes the chip back. "But right now… it's okay to not be okay."

After a week, Gray's able to recognize himself in the mirror. His eye isn't so swollen, and the mottled purplish bruises have faded to a yellowed green. The marks around his neck are still there – a faded red handprint – but Natsu lends him a hoodie that zips all the way up to his chin, and Gray wears it everywhere.

"How'd you sleep?" Natsu asks. It's Saturday morning and they're curled up on the couch in the living room while Sting and Rogue clean up after breakfast. Gray's leaning back against Natsu's chest, eyes closed while Natsu combs his fingers through Gray's hair.

"Okay," Gray says, and he's surprised to find that he's not lying. The little white pills that the hospital gave him are helping. They make everything light and soft, and let him close his eyes without being ripped apart by memories. Rogue keeps them locked up in the medicine cabinet, and while it makes Gray feel like a child, he's also glad that he doesn't have to deal with the temptation.

Natsu kisses the top of Gray's head and whispers, "good."

The doorbell rings and Gray immediately flinches, but Natsu's gentle hands and whispered, "it's okay," are reassuring. Gray keeps his eyes trained on the hole in the knee of his jeans as Bella hops down from the couch and trots after Rogue to see who it is.

"Joel's still in jail," Natsu says, running his hands up and down Gray's arms as if trying to brush away the tension. "You're safe."

Gray nods, then freezes as he hears a familiar voice in the hallway. When he looks up, Erza is standing in the entrance to the living room.

"Hey, you," she says softly, giving Gray a small, sad smile.

Gray just stares. She's cut her hair shorter, and she's wearing more makeup than he remembers, but it's her – the girl he used to have slumber parties with, who kicked her legs out the window when they drove around town, who put too much sugar in her coffee.

The girl who warned him that Joel wasn't good for him, and Gray didn't fucking listen.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, looking down at Natsu's hands on his arms.

Erza settles down on the couch near him, reaching out hesitantly and resting a hand on his knee. He can't look at her – doesn't want to see the pity or frustration in her eyes.

"Gray," she says, voice gentle and kind. "I missed you."

"I'm sorry," he says again, but he can see her hair bob as she shakes her head.

"No, I'm sorry," she says, shifting a bit closer and reaching out her hand. He stares at it hesitantly, then reaches out and takes it, a warm sense of comfort flooding through him when their fingers touch. "I wish I could have helped sooner, I…"

Natsu nudges Gray until he's sitting up, and when Gray finally looks at Erza, the only thing in her eyes is relief.

"I missed you so much," she says, reaching out and pulling him into a hug.

Gray stiffens for a second, then relaxes against her, pressing his forehead against her shoulder and letting out a shaky breath. He doesn't have any more tears, just an exhausted sense of grief and regret.

"I…" His voice is rough, but he has to say it, has to explain, has to tell her that he wishes he'd listened, that she was right. "I th-thought you guys—he told me that you—"

"It's okay," Erza says, shifting on the couch until Gray is wrapped up between her and Natsu, and Gray thinks of that day at the beach all those years ago when they said, we know, we love you, we were waiting for you to be ready.

"I just…"

"I'm not mad," Erza says, and Gray wants so badly to believe her. "I'm just so happy that you're alive." She leans back and cups his cheek in her hand, running her thumb gently over the healing bruises. "I want to kill that fucking asshole."

There's a tiny voice in Gray's head that whispers, he didn't mean it, he's not a bad person, he just had too much to drink. He bites his tongue and tells it to shut up.

"I'm sorry I missed your wedding," Gray says, trying to keep shame from creeping into his cheeks. Erza squeezes his hand, and he hesitantly adds, "Natsu, um… he told me about the thing with Loke's… date."

Erza snorts, shaking her head. "Yeah, he's still a piece of work," she says. The tightness in Gray's chest eases a bit at her familiar smile. "Did he show you the pictures?"

They spend a while looking at photos on Erza's phone, and Gray slowly relaxes between them. Being curled up in Natsu's lap with Erza's arm around him feels like home. Eventually Sting and Rogue join them with cookies and coffee, and for a while, Gray starts to feel normal. Like this is how his life was supposed to be.

He's not okay now, but maybe one day he can be.