TITLE: Down in a Hole [1/1]
AUTHOR: foggynite
E-MAIL: foggynite@hotmail.com
SITE: http://www.fortunecity.com/roswell/hooper/125
RATING: PG-13 for language
STATUS: complete, second in series
PAIRING: Gabriel+Rob vibes
SUMMARY: "Look At Me Now A Man Who Won't Let Himself Be" Gabriel reflects.
NOTES: Inspired by "Down In A Hole" by Alice In Chains, off the "Dirt" album. Title taken from the song and is used without permission. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made here.
~~~~~oOo~~~~~
"Gabriel!"
Kessler calling after him, wanting him to slow down. The overwhelming need to get away from the shopping crowds screaming in his mind. Too many thoughts pressing in, pulling and tugging his attention, and the flood won't stop.
~Maybe the pink one~~last book was more entertaining~~He's losing his hair~~such a slut~~wish they would be quiet~~maybe after work tomorrow~~just had it in my hand~~wonder what his name is~~foot itches~~ooh, a sale on skirts~
Pushing through the herd of people at the glass doors, expression as neutral as possible. A few odd glances from his near-frantic pace.
~why do I have to go with her~~great hair~~no one knows I'm here~~wonder where he's going in a rush~~I hate my life~~freaky eyes, but he's cute~~kids are so cute~~she'd look better naked~~probably a druggie~~it's too loud here~~
Welcome pavement under his feet, the solid real slap of his boot heels on asphalt, and the car's almost within reach. The sun's so bright above his head, and he can't find his sunglasses with shaking fingers. His hands are trembling, like he has palsy. They won't even close into proper fists. The car hood is warm beneath his palms, and the crisp autumn breeze is cooling his overheated cheeks.
He has to shut down, block it all out or else he'll lose himself in that mass of confusion and avarice and envy. Grind his teeth flat to keep from shrieking hysterically. He just wants to live in his own head. This was such a stupid idea. What made him think he could handle--
"Gabriel?"
Out of breath, Rob is solid and real, with controlled thoughts behind tight shields. A gentle touch on his arm, trying to get him to turn around, and he can't, just can't, deal with anyone right now, but Rob won't go away.
"I'm fine."
A drop of water lands on the hood, but he keeps his head ducked forward to avoid that piercing gaze. He should cut his hair soon, it's getting too long.
"Sure you are." Kessler's voice is skeptical, but accepting, and his tall body keeps the breeze away. Rob is warmth.
"Anna. . . .?"
"Getting Lewis from the book store. We'll head back home as soon as they're finished."
His hands won't stop shaking, tapping out a nervous rhythm on the glossy finish of Rob's old convertible. The screaming is still there, lodged behind his teeth and choking in his throat, and he can't make it go away. Frustrated tears are welling in his eyes, but his shaggy black hair keeps them hidden.
"Gabe." Commanding Rob. Soothing Rob. "You need to calm down. Shut it out and breathe deep. Focus on your exercises."
"I can't." Grinding teeth flat.
"Just relax." A hand rubbing his back, burning through his light jacket and t-shirt. His muscles are forced to soften under that gentle touch.
"Dammit."
"Calm."
"Right."
The tremors begin to subside, until he just shakes as though chilled. His fingers are freezing, but Rob takes first one hand, then the other, in his own tanned ones and rubs the feeling back in. The world comes back into focus slowly, as though he's finally breaking the surface of deep waters.
"I'm fine." If he keeps telling himself that, maybe he can hold onto this calm for a little while longer. Rob is silent now that he's no longer breaking apart in the web, but he knows the healer will have twenty lectures lined up once they're in private. For once, he'd like to just lean into the warmth at his side, though. But he can't. He's not weak.
Anna and Lewis are running up to the car at a quick jog. Lewis is worried and hesitant to approach him, fearing his anger and confusion. With an aura of calm serenity, Anna projects just enough to let him know he is not alone. Part of him resents the reassurance this gives, wanting to shove them all away and hide in a secluded corner. His mind feels so fragmented, like it's going apart.
"Come on, into the car." Rob herds them away from the loud shopping center, driving quickly back to the small ranch house his parents bought him when he graduated from med school.
Lewis is chattering again, filling up the silence with talk of his latest photo exhibit. Rob is driving with quiet determination.
The white line on the road wavers and bends, but Gabriel doesn't think it's supposed to do that. He slouches in the passenger seat, putting his feet on the dash and he knows Rob hates that, which might be why he continues to do it. His muscles hurt, sore like he's just run a mile, and he tries to ignore the blinding pain pulsing behind his eyeballs.
He has a crazy picture of gouging his own eyes out of his head, and now Rob's giving him concerned glances, and he laughs.
"I'm not crazy, Rob."
His voice is rougher than usual. He's been chain smoking more and sleeping less, but he's finished all the programming projects for work that he let slip earlier in the year. His life is getting back on track, going in the direction he wants and not barreling down some fucked-up tunnel that leaves him blind and confused. No, his life is where he wants it.
Sometimes.
But it makes him feel better to think that he's in control. This outing was supposed to prove that the migraines don't rule his life. The voices in his head don't send him scurrying for the nearest empty space. He hasn't turned into some sort of freak that works from home and never leaves his apartment, ordering all his necessities online or over the phone and taking a "break" from school for a semester or two. Or always.
His head is hurting.
Rolling down the window, he ignores Rob's half-hearted protest about smoking in the car. The piece of junk had probably been used as an ashtray for years before Golden Boy fell in love with its "character." The cracked leather roof is pulled up and it's cold because winter is coming, but he needs a cigarette just like he needs to have his feet on the dash and needs to get away from the loud shopping mall.
Lewis is still explaining various photographing techniques to Anna, and Gabriel can't decide if the chatter is comforting or tempting him to ram his head through the windshield.
"Are you hungry?" Rob's voice is low, just getting over a sinus cold.
"No."
"Too bad. We're stopping by McDonald's."
He wonders for a moment why Rob even bothers asking him these questions anymore. Golden Boy knows what he likes to eat, knows the fact that he doesn't like eating, and knows that he'll forget to do so if not forced to.
Part of him thinks that's really fucked-up. The other part stopped caring.
But Rob pays attention. Rob calls him at two a.m. to tell him to go to bed. Rob also reminds him to pay his bills, wash his clothes, and empty his ashtrays. Rob is actually more anal than Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn. He still feels a twitch or a pang, a reflexive kick in the ribs, because she was a habit and it ended so abruptly. So messy.
He's talking to her again, somewhat. Just stilted IMs at midnight or a rare group trip to the movies. He would like to think that he's over her, that he put four years of being a part of a whole behind him and is making his way perfectly fine on his own. He likes to think there isn't a gaping void inside, because Rob and Anna and Lewis are being more understanding than he expected.
Apparently he is no longer a cold-hearted bastard in their eyes. Kait's too, when she told him that they had just grown apart and it wasn't his fault and she just had different needs now.
Maybe he's still a little bitter.
Rob's changing gears and his hand is brushing against Gabriel's upraised thigh, but Rob is glaring at the boot prints on the dash and the cigarette ash blowing back on Lewis. The Asian boy hasn't said anything, though, probably because he hasn't noticed.
Gabriel has the urge to scream, and wonders if maybe he really is crazy.
He wonders if he might love Rob, or if he just needs something to fill the hole that used to be his other half, and that scares him because he doesn't need anyone. He shouldn't need anyone, and he's wondering when this Imposter came along and took his place.
They pull into the drive-thru and Rob asks Anna and Lewis what they want, then orders for four people. The smell of grease is making Gabriel ill, and he wonders what Rob would think if he started dry heaving near his upholstery.
The drive now is silent, filled with crinkling wrappers and jostled ice. He takes his feet off the dash before he starts eating, flicking his cigarette out the window. He leaves the window open, liking the biting air and smirking when Rob pulls a sweatshirt from next to his knee to hand back to Anna. The chill is wonderful.
A gravel driveway, and Rob's small ranch house is in view. There's three acres between him and the neighbor's house, and Gabriel likes that. It's quieter here than his apartment, where he can here the couple below argue in Spanish, and the baby next door cry for food/attention/comfort.
So, he stays in Rob's guest room three nights a week. It will be four o'clock in the morning, he'll know Rob just got off his long shift at the hospital, and he'll stop by with donuts or coffee. They'll watch a movie, maybe fall asleep on the couch, and Gabriel will be reminded that he isn't some odd hermit people stare at.
He knows there should be more to his life. His computer programming alone isn't enough to keep him happy, and he wonders when his happiness became real to him. Before it was just a figment of his imagination.
Slamming the car door shut, he stumbles over his feet a moment when the pins and needles set in.
"Anyone up for a movie?" Rob asks with a smile, and Gabriel's heart twitches. There's the pang, the kick in the solar plexus, but it's good this time. His heart speeds up, and the blood rushes to his middle.
"I have time to spare," Anna responds, and follows behind Rob into the house. Lewis just shrugs and grins, and in they go. The web is mercifully silent, the front yard is empty and calm, and Gabriel is content.
"Coming?" Rob is in the doorway again, waiting for him to make a decision.
"Sure."
He'll go in, they'll curl up on the couch and mock whatever B-movie Lewis chose, and he'll be okay.
He'll be fine.
~~~~~oOo~~~~~
finis.
AUTHOR: foggynite
E-MAIL: foggynite@hotmail.com
SITE: http://www.fortunecity.com/roswell/hooper/125
RATING: PG-13 for language
STATUS: complete, second in series
PAIRING: Gabriel+Rob vibes
SUMMARY: "Look At Me Now A Man Who Won't Let Himself Be" Gabriel reflects.
NOTES: Inspired by "Down In A Hole" by Alice In Chains, off the "Dirt" album. Title taken from the song and is used without permission. No infringement is intended, and no profit is being made here.
~~~~~oOo~~~~~
"Gabriel!"
Kessler calling after him, wanting him to slow down. The overwhelming need to get away from the shopping crowds screaming in his mind. Too many thoughts pressing in, pulling and tugging his attention, and the flood won't stop.
~Maybe the pink one~~last book was more entertaining~~He's losing his hair~~such a slut~~wish they would be quiet~~maybe after work tomorrow~~just had it in my hand~~wonder what his name is~~foot itches~~ooh, a sale on skirts~
Pushing through the herd of people at the glass doors, expression as neutral as possible. A few odd glances from his near-frantic pace.
~why do I have to go with her~~great hair~~no one knows I'm here~~wonder where he's going in a rush~~I hate my life~~freaky eyes, but he's cute~~kids are so cute~~she'd look better naked~~probably a druggie~~it's too loud here~~
Welcome pavement under his feet, the solid real slap of his boot heels on asphalt, and the car's almost within reach. The sun's so bright above his head, and he can't find his sunglasses with shaking fingers. His hands are trembling, like he has palsy. They won't even close into proper fists. The car hood is warm beneath his palms, and the crisp autumn breeze is cooling his overheated cheeks.
He has to shut down, block it all out or else he'll lose himself in that mass of confusion and avarice and envy. Grind his teeth flat to keep from shrieking hysterically. He just wants to live in his own head. This was such a stupid idea. What made him think he could handle--
"Gabriel?"
Out of breath, Rob is solid and real, with controlled thoughts behind tight shields. A gentle touch on his arm, trying to get him to turn around, and he can't, just can't, deal with anyone right now, but Rob won't go away.
"I'm fine."
A drop of water lands on the hood, but he keeps his head ducked forward to avoid that piercing gaze. He should cut his hair soon, it's getting too long.
"Sure you are." Kessler's voice is skeptical, but accepting, and his tall body keeps the breeze away. Rob is warmth.
"Anna. . . .?"
"Getting Lewis from the book store. We'll head back home as soon as they're finished."
His hands won't stop shaking, tapping out a nervous rhythm on the glossy finish of Rob's old convertible. The screaming is still there, lodged behind his teeth and choking in his throat, and he can't make it go away. Frustrated tears are welling in his eyes, but his shaggy black hair keeps them hidden.
"Gabe." Commanding Rob. Soothing Rob. "You need to calm down. Shut it out and breathe deep. Focus on your exercises."
"I can't." Grinding teeth flat.
"Just relax." A hand rubbing his back, burning through his light jacket and t-shirt. His muscles are forced to soften under that gentle touch.
"Dammit."
"Calm."
"Right."
The tremors begin to subside, until he just shakes as though chilled. His fingers are freezing, but Rob takes first one hand, then the other, in his own tanned ones and rubs the feeling back in. The world comes back into focus slowly, as though he's finally breaking the surface of deep waters.
"I'm fine." If he keeps telling himself that, maybe he can hold onto this calm for a little while longer. Rob is silent now that he's no longer breaking apart in the web, but he knows the healer will have twenty lectures lined up once they're in private. For once, he'd like to just lean into the warmth at his side, though. But he can't. He's not weak.
Anna and Lewis are running up to the car at a quick jog. Lewis is worried and hesitant to approach him, fearing his anger and confusion. With an aura of calm serenity, Anna projects just enough to let him know he is not alone. Part of him resents the reassurance this gives, wanting to shove them all away and hide in a secluded corner. His mind feels so fragmented, like it's going apart.
"Come on, into the car." Rob herds them away from the loud shopping center, driving quickly back to the small ranch house his parents bought him when he graduated from med school.
Lewis is chattering again, filling up the silence with talk of his latest photo exhibit. Rob is driving with quiet determination.
The white line on the road wavers and bends, but Gabriel doesn't think it's supposed to do that. He slouches in the passenger seat, putting his feet on the dash and he knows Rob hates that, which might be why he continues to do it. His muscles hurt, sore like he's just run a mile, and he tries to ignore the blinding pain pulsing behind his eyeballs.
He has a crazy picture of gouging his own eyes out of his head, and now Rob's giving him concerned glances, and he laughs.
"I'm not crazy, Rob."
His voice is rougher than usual. He's been chain smoking more and sleeping less, but he's finished all the programming projects for work that he let slip earlier in the year. His life is getting back on track, going in the direction he wants and not barreling down some fucked-up tunnel that leaves him blind and confused. No, his life is where he wants it.
Sometimes.
But it makes him feel better to think that he's in control. This outing was supposed to prove that the migraines don't rule his life. The voices in his head don't send him scurrying for the nearest empty space. He hasn't turned into some sort of freak that works from home and never leaves his apartment, ordering all his necessities online or over the phone and taking a "break" from school for a semester or two. Or always.
His head is hurting.
Rolling down the window, he ignores Rob's half-hearted protest about smoking in the car. The piece of junk had probably been used as an ashtray for years before Golden Boy fell in love with its "character." The cracked leather roof is pulled up and it's cold because winter is coming, but he needs a cigarette just like he needs to have his feet on the dash and needs to get away from the loud shopping mall.
Lewis is still explaining various photographing techniques to Anna, and Gabriel can't decide if the chatter is comforting or tempting him to ram his head through the windshield.
"Are you hungry?" Rob's voice is low, just getting over a sinus cold.
"No."
"Too bad. We're stopping by McDonald's."
He wonders for a moment why Rob even bothers asking him these questions anymore. Golden Boy knows what he likes to eat, knows the fact that he doesn't like eating, and knows that he'll forget to do so if not forced to.
Part of him thinks that's really fucked-up. The other part stopped caring.
But Rob pays attention. Rob calls him at two a.m. to tell him to go to bed. Rob also reminds him to pay his bills, wash his clothes, and empty his ashtrays. Rob is actually more anal than Kaitlyn.
Kaitlyn. He still feels a twitch or a pang, a reflexive kick in the ribs, because she was a habit and it ended so abruptly. So messy.
He's talking to her again, somewhat. Just stilted IMs at midnight or a rare group trip to the movies. He would like to think that he's over her, that he put four years of being a part of a whole behind him and is making his way perfectly fine on his own. He likes to think there isn't a gaping void inside, because Rob and Anna and Lewis are being more understanding than he expected.
Apparently he is no longer a cold-hearted bastard in their eyes. Kait's too, when she told him that they had just grown apart and it wasn't his fault and she just had different needs now.
Maybe he's still a little bitter.
Rob's changing gears and his hand is brushing against Gabriel's upraised thigh, but Rob is glaring at the boot prints on the dash and the cigarette ash blowing back on Lewis. The Asian boy hasn't said anything, though, probably because he hasn't noticed.
Gabriel has the urge to scream, and wonders if maybe he really is crazy.
He wonders if he might love Rob, or if he just needs something to fill the hole that used to be his other half, and that scares him because he doesn't need anyone. He shouldn't need anyone, and he's wondering when this Imposter came along and took his place.
They pull into the drive-thru and Rob asks Anna and Lewis what they want, then orders for four people. The smell of grease is making Gabriel ill, and he wonders what Rob would think if he started dry heaving near his upholstery.
The drive now is silent, filled with crinkling wrappers and jostled ice. He takes his feet off the dash before he starts eating, flicking his cigarette out the window. He leaves the window open, liking the biting air and smirking when Rob pulls a sweatshirt from next to his knee to hand back to Anna. The chill is wonderful.
A gravel driveway, and Rob's small ranch house is in view. There's three acres between him and the neighbor's house, and Gabriel likes that. It's quieter here than his apartment, where he can here the couple below argue in Spanish, and the baby next door cry for food/attention/comfort.
So, he stays in Rob's guest room three nights a week. It will be four o'clock in the morning, he'll know Rob just got off his long shift at the hospital, and he'll stop by with donuts or coffee. They'll watch a movie, maybe fall asleep on the couch, and Gabriel will be reminded that he isn't some odd hermit people stare at.
He knows there should be more to his life. His computer programming alone isn't enough to keep him happy, and he wonders when his happiness became real to him. Before it was just a figment of his imagination.
Slamming the car door shut, he stumbles over his feet a moment when the pins and needles set in.
"Anyone up for a movie?" Rob asks with a smile, and Gabriel's heart twitches. There's the pang, the kick in the solar plexus, but it's good this time. His heart speeds up, and the blood rushes to his middle.
"I have time to spare," Anna responds, and follows behind Rob into the house. Lewis just shrugs and grins, and in they go. The web is mercifully silent, the front yard is empty and calm, and Gabriel is content.
"Coming?" Rob is in the doorway again, waiting for him to make a decision.
"Sure."
He'll go in, they'll curl up on the couch and mock whatever B-movie Lewis chose, and he'll be okay.
He'll be fine.
~~~~~oOo~~~~~
finis.