TRIGGER WARNING: Suicidal thoughts

Having days off helped for a couple of months.

Husk worked five days a week and then took two days off to unwind, like a regular working person would. He left in the morning-ish on his first off day – too lazy to leave the hotel the previous night – dropped by home to do whatever, hit the casino in the evening, drank away the night, found his way home, was hung over the next morning, hit the casino again, then the pub again, and returned to the hotel late the next morning with a hangover. Rinse and repeat every week.

It was liberating at first. Having something to sorta look forward to at the end of each week helped him endure the work week. Having two days where he didn't have to communicate with his co-workers or the random people at his bar helped him relax. Having two days where he didn't have to see Alastor… helped. Maybe. Somehow.

Then it became a routine, just like his days at the hotel. It was better, but…

But it was still missing the chaos factor of his surprise outings with Alastor. It felt like he was back to his old afterlife; those ten boring years before he met Alastor. Except he had a day job now, which reminded him of his old life, back when he was alive. He hated being reminded of that. He was fifty years dead and better off for it.

Except he wasn't better off. He was feeling more miserable by the day.

Alastor was getting more distant by the day.

Mostly it was Husk's own fault, and he fully acknowledged that fact. He didn't seek Alastor out. He no longer even tried to bring up the fact he wasn't doing well, since he was tired of steeling himself and then inevitably failing anyway. It had turned from a possibility of things getting better into a hurtful game of giving himself hope and having it ruthlessly squashed over and over again. He couldn't fucking do it anymore, so he just. Stopped. Let the hope die and apathy take over. Accepted that this was how it was now and it was useless to struggle.

He didn't stop others from pulling Alastor away from him whenever they actually had a chance to talk. He did nothing proactive in order to help himself or even make Alastor act for him. He simply let it all happen and started telling himself it was better this way. If Alastor had so much fun that he didn't need Husk around, then fine. He shouldn't ruin Alastor's fun. He shouldn't act possessive. He shouldn't let his jealousy get the better of him. He shouldn't grab Alastor by his lapels and smoosh their faces together. He was old, tired and depressed enough to put Alastor's needs above his own quietly.

That is, until he no longer could. When the breaking point he had tried to stave off was finally reached as no further move to intervene was made and things just kept getting worse.

One morning after his days off he felt tired. Just so fucking tired of everything. He didn't want to see anyone or do anything. He wanted to be left the fuck alone by the world at large for just one damn day, and made the impromptu decision to not go back to the hotel for his work shift. He only wanted to rest. To shake the routine. Just wanted one day to stay home and have peace and quiet instead of working or hitting the pub. Simply him, his hangover, and mindless television.

Just one day.

What a foolish fucking notion.

It could have been fine. Maybe it could have worked under different circumstances. What ruined it was the fact that nobody came to look for him when he didn't show up.

Now, it may have been because Alastor and Niffty were the only ones who knew where he lived, and while Charlie probably asked Alastor, well, she wasn't likely to get answers. She wouldn't even think to ask Niffty because she had no reason to believe Niffty would know.

Maybe Alastor figured he was too hung over to leave his home. Maybe he figured he deserved an extra day off. Maybe he was too busy and meant to come after his work day was over, but it stretched long into the night, not for the first fucking time. Maybe Charlie didn't ask him and he didn't even fucking notice. Whatever the case, Husk was briefly glad because he got exactly what he wanted: a quiet day with nobody bothering him. But he was mostly absolutely fucking devastated. He hadn't planned it, not consciously anyway, but he had expected Alastor to show up in the evening at the latest to see what was keeping him. Or at least radio call him to ask him if he was alright. But he hadn't.

Husk was way too fucking emotionally wounded at this point to be rational.

Alastor hadn't cared about Husk not showing up at the hotel.

And if Alastor didn't care, what was even the fucking point.

The breaking point was reached and it wasn't pretty.

He selected a pub he didn't frequent – solely so he wouldn't be found and stopped by… anyone – drank his brains out, and neglected to go back home or to the hotel. No, he slept in a ditch and went to another pub the next day for a repeat performance, not even waiting for his hangover to pass. The day after that he did the same. Then he ran out of cash and mugged some unfortunate asshole for more money and spent two more days abusing his liver.

Finally he was not only out of money again, but in too damn poor a condition to win any fights due to not really having eaten much the entire time. So, as soon as he was more or less done with the worst of his hangover, he was forced to drag his ass into one of his regular pubs where he had a tab. He wouldn't need actual money there.

That was when Alastor finally showed up. Unsurprisingly enough, although Husk hadn't really been thinking about that possibility when he made his decision to go there. No, he had been more concerned about getting fucking wasted before he could feel too much.

Husk had barely gotten into the pub, much less gotten started with drinking, so chances were Alastor had somehow gotten alerted when he got here. That meant Husk was mostly sober when a familiar gloved hand landed on his shoulder as he was leaning against the bar counter and nursing his beer apathetically.

"Husker", Alastor said, and Husk automatically turned around to look at him – too used to his voice and presence to default to his go-to reaction of ignoring anyone trying to talk to him. Alastor always got Husk's attention, if he wasn't deliberately trying to ignore him.

Husk's heart may have just stopped beating for a moment.

Alastor looked really fucking weary, with bags under his eyes and a strained edge to his grin. He was looking at Husk with a concerned, searching expression, trying to judge how badly gone he was. But Husk didn't care about how terrible Alastor looked. He could have been glaring daggers at Husk and that wouldn't have made a difference.

It was Alastor. It really was Alastor.

Alastor had come to look for him. May even have been looking for him for days now, but without luck – Hell had about as many pubs as it had houses for its denizens, so there was a lot of ground to cover and Husk had deliberately made himself difficult to find.

But found him he had, and they were alone.

Not in the hotel with all the clients and staff. There was no Charlie. No Vaggie. No niffty. No Angel Dust. No anybody. Just the two of them with some unimportant random drunkards that neither of them paid attention to in the background, and who in return would pay them no particular mind.

Just the two of them.

Just Alastor and Husk.

Just…

Husk's eyes filled with utterly stupid, pointless, and difficult to explain tears.

Alastor was there, for him, for him alone and specifically, with nobody to interrupt them.

It had been over half a fucking year since the last time.

"Husk-"

Husk threw his arms around Alastor and proceeded to bawl his fucking eyes out on the shoulder of Alastor's fine coat. He didn't give a shit that they were in public. He didn't give a damn about Alastor's aversion to sudden touch and the telltale flinch. He didn't give a single solitary fuck about having a meltdown after months of doing so well at hiding it.

He clung to Alastor like his afterlife depended on it, and quite honestly it fucking did.

Alastor's arms looped around his waist, under his wings, and squeezed him tightly for a moment. Then there was a staticky feeling in his fur, and the background noises quieted down. Presumably Alastor had moved them elsewhere, which was probably a good thing even if Husk didn't really care at the moment.

"Husker. I don't know how stable you are on your feet. We should sit down. Or you can lay down if you want."

So he was either at Alastor's house or his own. A quick glance through his veil of tears told him it was the former, and let him know the position of the couch, which was directly behind Alastor – probably a deliberate decision so he could check it like he just had.

Screw the suggested options, though. He was not going to let go of Alastor for a single moment right now.

Making a split-second decision, he pushed Alastor down, straddled his lap without ever removing his face from his shoulder or his arms from around him, and topped it up by cocooning them both with his large wings.

Alastor was stiff as a board for moment and there was a distressed radio interference in the air, but then it got quiet again and Alastor relaxed. Husk heard a long-suffering sigh, and then hands started to card through the fur on his back.

"Just so you're aware, if you were anyone else I would have already ripped you apart for this", Alastor said, although there wasn't much conviction in his voice. "I'm still considering it."

No, he wasn't; if he was going to do that, he already would have. His words also did not help stem Husk's sobs at all. They made him feel stupidly happy, sure, but they also made him cry all the harder.

Alastor simply let him. Alastor continued stroking his back soothingly, and made no move to pull away or disappear. Didn't push Husk off of his very personal space. Didn't say a word.

Husk lost the track of time completely and had no idea how long he stayed there, clinging to Alastor and crying his heart out. But eventually his tears dried and his sobs died out, leaving him feeling absolutely exhausted.

Alastor noticed immediately. "Are you quite done?"

Husk nodded, not sure if his voice would work at this point.

"In that case, I would like to not be trapped any longer, thank you", Alastor said, and pushed lightly at Husk's chest; just enough to let him know he was meant to move, but not actually forcing his hand.

Not that Alastor had ever actually been trapped or needed to push Husk away. He could have just vanished at any time. But he had chosen not to, for Husk's sake.

Good thing Husk had no more tears or energy left, as that simple thought made him feel overly emotional all over again.

He folded his wings and clumsily removed himself from Alastor's lap, eyes cast away in tired embarrassment.

Alastor stood up and wiped a few cat hairs from his coat in a pointed manner that was completely lost on Husk, who was too exhausted to care. He then snapped his fingers and a glass of water appeared in Husk's paws.

"Drink that and doss for a bit", he said, patted Husk's cheek, and turned to walk towards the kitchen. "I'll prepare something for us to eat in the meanwhile."

Husk stared at the glass and was very damn thankful he had no tears left.

Fucking hell.

Seeing no better options, he did as asked.

The couch and the familiar red quilt smelled strongly of Alastor and helped him fall asleep in no time whatsoever.

He was home. He was finally home again.

ooooo

Husk woke up to the smell of food. For a moment he didn't question it at all, since that was a thing that happened every now and then – it was just Alastor visiting him at random because he felt the need to feed Husk.

When he woke up further, he remembered that was no longer the case, because Niffty cooked breakfast and his room was too far away from the kitchen to smell anything anyway.

He sat up with a feeling of mortification when his brain finally caught up with the reality. Damn, Alastor had came to him. Shit, he had cried his eyes out on Alastor. Fuck, he had fucking straddled Alastor for who knew how long and he had been too distraught to even enjoy it.

...There was something sketchy about that last bit, but he chose to ignore it.

He sighed deeply and rubbed at his very crusty and sore eyes. At least Alastor had thought to make him drink some water or he'd be feeling a lot worse now.

...Right, and he had to face Alastor very soon. Fucking peachy. Now that his brains were working a bit better he realized that he had made Alastor horribly uncomfortable earlier with his chosen fucking sobbing position. Just great.

He stretched his sore body, which was actually considerably less sore after a nap on the couch than it had been lately after his frequent rests in the local ditches, and then got up. He might as well face the music as there was no avoiding it. He was feeling too emotionally spent to care too much anyway.

He quietly walked into the kitchen and saw that Alastor was still working at the stove. There was a pot of something set aside on top of a potholder, and Alastor was stirring something shellfishy smelling on a frying pan.

The sight made Husk's breath hitch threateningly, and Alastor's familiar back looked way too comforting and inviting for him to resist in the state of mind he was currently in. He walked over to Alastor, making just enough noise to let him know he was approaching, and then wrapped his arms loosely around Alastor's waist and pressed his forehead against the back of his neck.

Alastor twitched, as he always did when he was touched without a warning, but then relaxed. "Aren't you clingy today. You keep surprising me, Husker. Are you feeling better?"

"A little", he answered, and dared to tighten his hold. Alastor did not object or otherwise reject him. In fact, he leaned back slightly and tilted his head to better accommodate Husk's position. Husk sighed in relief and closed his eyes, slowly breathing in Alastor's scent with every inhale and letting it warm and heal his old, wounded heart by a small measure.

Eventually the food was done and Husk had to let go, much to his regret. He quietly took his usual seat and stared at the table while Alastor set it and served them both a plate of shrimp and grits.

The sight of the food, cooked just for the two of them, made Husk want to start sobbing all over again, but now that he had let the worst of it out earlier and had managed to soak Alastor's presence in for a while, he could thankfully resist the urge. It must have shown on his face, however, as it was Alastor's turn to sigh.

"Will you tell me what is wrong after we have eaten?" he asked with a rare, resigned tone of voice. After all, getting Husk to open up was one of the few things he couldn't make happen with a snap of his fingers or a wave of his microphone stand.

Husk nodded silently, and picked up his fork. Oh, he was going to spill absolutely everything this time, now that he actually had a fucking chance to do it. Not just the part of feeling lonely and neglected. No, fucking everything. This conversation was long overdue and trying to avoid it any longer would simply lead to more misery and cause a further drift between them. If Alastor rejected him, then so be it. At least he would have a good reason to leave the hotel and everything else behind, and wallow in alcohol and depression on his own until they would eventually, hopefully repair their friendship. He could live with that. He would have to.

And if it just so happened that Alastor cut ties with him completely… If he had to suffer one more fucking heartbreak… Well, there was a yearly one way ticket out of Hell. Although he would have to make very damn sure to not rush it like the last time. He would give it a few actual fucking years, just to be sure, and so that Alastor wouldn't connect it with their falling out if he ever noticed. That was the least he could do to repay Alastor for the decades of friendship.

Either way, he needed to finally reveal his hand and see what happened. Take the fucking gamble. That's what he did best anyway.