Standard Disclaimer
Chapter Eleven
Sunday 2:00AM
This was all...too much. It was all just TOO MUCH. The memories were eating him alive. It hurt so much. He couldn't get away. Shadows, memories kept rushing back at him. Things he buried in his subconscious a long time ago, now came flooding back, and now...now everything hurt even more. Matt was gone, Bianca's gone...Brett's here... It was just too much.
Throwing his hands up in the air, he finally got up from the curled up position he sat in and gave into the temptation of pacing, desperately holding back tears that just wouldn't stop trying to fall. Gripping his hair to the point that it might almost fall out, he kept walking. At least the hole he put in the ground after he was done would keep him busy after a while. It's just...it...
It shouldn't be this way. Matt was supposed to be alive. He was supposed to be focusing on saving his big brother from turning evil. He was supposed to be saving the world. He was supposed to be saving all of history...
He was supposed to only hate Brett.
And he does...or...at least he thought he did. Eight hours and one minute ago, he would have sworn on any Book of Shadows, by pain of death or the binding of his powers, that he hated the traitorous bastard who turned on him nearly six years, ten months, two weeks, four days, and five hours ago.
Flashback
He opened the front door of the Halliwell mansion and tried to slip past the, more or less, close family friends, thanking them for showing and for offering their congratulations to his and Brett's anniversary. Of course, it wasn't an anniversary party—they were way too young for one of those—but the way everyone knew it was their anniversary was something in and of itself...he'd never say it, especially because he knew he'd probably get hit by Brett, but...he liked the way their friends remembered and seemed to accept it, accept them. He liked the way it reminded him that not everything had to turn out bad, or that not everything one had, they had had to fight for. He liked the way Brett's eyes greedily lit up when everyone got out their "secret" or "surprise" presents.
He dodged a few more people, fighting the urge to orb or try and break through the binding potion to see if invisibility was one of his powers—but, he didn't want anyone to think that he was trying to avoid them, though...or that he was desperate to get to Brett.
He was so excited. Brett had been hinting for weeks. Chris knew that Brett had inherited tons of money since his parents died, but Chris didn't feel right taking the money for a mini-honeymoon, especially since...Mom died and Wyatt was named Brett's official guardian, who used the money to pay for things around and the house's mortgage, seeing as how all of them were still in school, and Wyatt was the only one who was eighteen.
But, he didn't have to feel bad now. Sure, it took him some time, but, Chris spent weeks saving up at his after school job, sometimes going overtime, until he finally saved up enough money to rent them, at least, a couple days worth of a stay at an inn or motel or a slightly cheaper hotel...in Hawaii. Ever since he was little and, regretfully, accidentally stepped into a very awkward conversation between his Mom and one of her friends, who were exchanging honeymoon stories, Chris always wondered what Hawaii would be like...and, now, he'd know because he'd be there. Better yet, he'd be there with Brett. It was like a dream come true...for both of them.
He finally made it through the throng of people who were congregating in little groups throughout the entire first floor, and made his way to the kitchen. He knew that was where Brett would most likely hide, seeing as how the stairs to the second floor were being blocked and he didn't have the power to teleport in any way like the rest of the Halliwell brood.
"Brett, you'll never believe what I just did! I booked us..." he trailed off as he pushed the swinging door into the kitchen where he found his lover, his best friend...in the arms of his brother.
"Ahh. Chris. You're home," Wyatt said nonchalantly after pulling away from his kiss with Brett.
Chris could feel the water prick at his eyes. He fought to keep them and the hollow in his heart in check at least until after the party...or until he could slip out when no one noticed.
"Chris..."
The voice shattered the mental image that kept playing again and again. He finally looked at Brett and could make out something in his eyes. The only problem was he couldn't decide if he saw in them was sadness or pity. He realized that it didn't matter as the rest of his world came crashing down.
"I...uh...I'll be in our—my room," Chris said beginning to turn.
"Chris," Brett yelped, pleadingly, but stopped when Wyatt put a possessive arm around his waist, hinting at something that Chris knew was beyond a mere kiss.
His chest clenched. It made his stomach flip when he noticed how perfectly they fit together, looked together. He could barely hold the tears back before he turned around to walk out.
"You go ahead and do that," Wyatt said coolly. And, before Brett could say a word of protest, he orbed out to the room he, now, used to share with Brett, and the thought made him breakdown. The dam that held all the tears finally broke and he couldn't stop it anymore. He lied there and cried, allowing himself to fall asleep, knowing that it would at least be a couple of hours until the party was over and they could have their confrontation. It just hurt too much to stay awake.
End flashback
He remembered the fight they had later on that night. He remembered how much he was torn between strangling Brett and wrapping his arms tight around the younger male. He remembered yelling insults only half meant. He remembered crying angry tears. He remembered looking at the other with disgust and betrayal, and though he couldn't help it, pain. He remembered being deaf to pleas of understanding. He remembered orbing out when the other started crying harder than he did. He remembered thinking things were off while he stood at his favorite thinking spot, the field where he and Brett first met, like he had done so, so many times before.
And, even now, if he let himself think about it, it just didn't make sense. It still didn't make sense. For a long time now, he would have sworn Brett had definitely didn't like Wyatt, and then to find him in Wyatt's arms just...didn't add up. But, like always, before he could ever really think about it, the pain just came again, and now even more so because now...now, Matt was dead.
Oh, God. Not him too. Please, not him, too.
He was the last of their family, besides Wyatt and himself, and the idea of him not being that anymore just...it...just hurt so much. This was all too much for him to handle right now. He needed...he needed to do something, to hit something, to drown his sorrows, just do something.
Chris, he heard someone say in the back of his mind. Chris, are you there?
"Mom?" he asked out loud.
Chris, I know you can hear me, but you don't have to come home, she said quickly. I just wanted to know if you're okay. Please, send something, a sign or an object so I know that you're fine and you're listening.
Chris pondered for a minute before writing something on a napkin and orbing it away to his mom.
The triquetra. Cute. Funny, she said, her voice even sad in his head. Listen, I just wanted to say that...uh...I know that his might be awkward for you.
Understatement of the year...
And...that it must hurt, everything you just found out right now, the people who came back, but I wanted you to know that...I love you. I love you, and you're aunts love you, and that we're here for you.
He let the dam break.
I moved the good towels to the third locker from the right. There should also be some soap and shampoo there. Of course, I don't know if you can shower using a sink, but you're welcome to try.
He chuckled, even if it was only slightly and the joke was corny.
I had your father change the couch in the back room after you moved into the house. You know, just in case you wanted to...just in case you felt uncomfortable. It folds out now, and it's actually pretty comfy. Even you're Aunt Phoebe would sleep on it.
He chuckled at the thought of his aunt "roughing it."
...
I hope you don't...but...there's aspirin in the second drawer of my office desk. Max should have kicked everyone out by now, and should be starting to close. Just tell him not to worry about the alarm since you're there and you might accidentally set it off yourself...don't feel bad, I don't know how it works either.
He smiled in spite of the tears.
Just...promise me, Chris, that you don't do anything too stupid. I...I want to see you in one piece tomorrow...preferably not after I summon you from your grandmother.
...
Well, that's all I got to say right now. I love you, sweetie.
"I love you, too, Mom."
Goodnight.
"Goodnight, Mom," he sighed, feeling the mind that touched his slip away again. He got up from the position on the floor he didn't know he sunk down to and crossed the floor of one of the storage rooms. He said goodnight to Max, told him he was spending the night, and ambled up to the bar. Hesitating for a moment, he surveyed the bottle he picked up without really paying attention to the words printed on it. Shaking his head, popped open the bottle and tilted his head back, downing the drink quickly. The first of many that night.
Chapter Eleven
Sunday 2:00AM
This was all...too much. It was all just TOO MUCH. The memories were eating him alive. It hurt so much. He couldn't get away. Shadows, memories kept rushing back at him. Things he buried in his subconscious a long time ago, now came flooding back, and now...now everything hurt even more. Matt was gone, Bianca's gone...Brett's here... It was just too much.
Throwing his hands up in the air, he finally got up from the curled up position he sat in and gave into the temptation of pacing, desperately holding back tears that just wouldn't stop trying to fall. Gripping his hair to the point that it might almost fall out, he kept walking. At least the hole he put in the ground after he was done would keep him busy after a while. It's just...it...
It shouldn't be this way. Matt was supposed to be alive. He was supposed to be focusing on saving his big brother from turning evil. He was supposed to be saving the world. He was supposed to be saving all of history...
He was supposed to only hate Brett.
And he does...or...at least he thought he did. Eight hours and one minute ago, he would have sworn on any Book of Shadows, by pain of death or the binding of his powers, that he hated the traitorous bastard who turned on him nearly six years, ten months, two weeks, four days, and five hours ago.
Flashback
He opened the front door of the Halliwell mansion and tried to slip past the, more or less, close family friends, thanking them for showing and for offering their congratulations to his and Brett's anniversary. Of course, it wasn't an anniversary party—they were way too young for one of those—but the way everyone knew it was their anniversary was something in and of itself...he'd never say it, especially because he knew he'd probably get hit by Brett, but...he liked the way their friends remembered and seemed to accept it, accept them. He liked the way it reminded him that not everything had to turn out bad, or that not everything one had, they had had to fight for. He liked the way Brett's eyes greedily lit up when everyone got out their "secret" or "surprise" presents.
He dodged a few more people, fighting the urge to orb or try and break through the binding potion to see if invisibility was one of his powers—but, he didn't want anyone to think that he was trying to avoid them, though...or that he was desperate to get to Brett.
He was so excited. Brett had been hinting for weeks. Chris knew that Brett had inherited tons of money since his parents died, but Chris didn't feel right taking the money for a mini-honeymoon, especially since...Mom died and Wyatt was named Brett's official guardian, who used the money to pay for things around and the house's mortgage, seeing as how all of them were still in school, and Wyatt was the only one who was eighteen.
But, he didn't have to feel bad now. Sure, it took him some time, but, Chris spent weeks saving up at his after school job, sometimes going overtime, until he finally saved up enough money to rent them, at least, a couple days worth of a stay at an inn or motel or a slightly cheaper hotel...in Hawaii. Ever since he was little and, regretfully, accidentally stepped into a very awkward conversation between his Mom and one of her friends, who were exchanging honeymoon stories, Chris always wondered what Hawaii would be like...and, now, he'd know because he'd be there. Better yet, he'd be there with Brett. It was like a dream come true...for both of them.
He finally made it through the throng of people who were congregating in little groups throughout the entire first floor, and made his way to the kitchen. He knew that was where Brett would most likely hide, seeing as how the stairs to the second floor were being blocked and he didn't have the power to teleport in any way like the rest of the Halliwell brood.
"Brett, you'll never believe what I just did! I booked us..." he trailed off as he pushed the swinging door into the kitchen where he found his lover, his best friend...in the arms of his brother.
"Ahh. Chris. You're home," Wyatt said nonchalantly after pulling away from his kiss with Brett.
Chris could feel the water prick at his eyes. He fought to keep them and the hollow in his heart in check at least until after the party...or until he could slip out when no one noticed.
"Chris..."
The voice shattered the mental image that kept playing again and again. He finally looked at Brett and could make out something in his eyes. The only problem was he couldn't decide if he saw in them was sadness or pity. He realized that it didn't matter as the rest of his world came crashing down.
"I...uh...I'll be in our—my room," Chris said beginning to turn.
"Chris," Brett yelped, pleadingly, but stopped when Wyatt put a possessive arm around his waist, hinting at something that Chris knew was beyond a mere kiss.
His chest clenched. It made his stomach flip when he noticed how perfectly they fit together, looked together. He could barely hold the tears back before he turned around to walk out.
"You go ahead and do that," Wyatt said coolly. And, before Brett could say a word of protest, he orbed out to the room he, now, used to share with Brett, and the thought made him breakdown. The dam that held all the tears finally broke and he couldn't stop it anymore. He lied there and cried, allowing himself to fall asleep, knowing that it would at least be a couple of hours until the party was over and they could have their confrontation. It just hurt too much to stay awake.
End flashback
He remembered the fight they had later on that night. He remembered how much he was torn between strangling Brett and wrapping his arms tight around the younger male. He remembered yelling insults only half meant. He remembered crying angry tears. He remembered looking at the other with disgust and betrayal, and though he couldn't help it, pain. He remembered being deaf to pleas of understanding. He remembered orbing out when the other started crying harder than he did. He remembered thinking things were off while he stood at his favorite thinking spot, the field where he and Brett first met, like he had done so, so many times before.
And, even now, if he let himself think about it, it just didn't make sense. It still didn't make sense. For a long time now, he would have sworn Brett had definitely didn't like Wyatt, and then to find him in Wyatt's arms just...didn't add up. But, like always, before he could ever really think about it, the pain just came again, and now even more so because now...now, Matt was dead.
Oh, God. Not him too. Please, not him, too.
He was the last of their family, besides Wyatt and himself, and the idea of him not being that anymore just...it...just hurt so much. This was all too much for him to handle right now. He needed...he needed to do something, to hit something, to drown his sorrows, just do something.
Chris, he heard someone say in the back of his mind. Chris, are you there?
"Mom?" he asked out loud.
Chris, I know you can hear me, but you don't have to come home, she said quickly. I just wanted to know if you're okay. Please, send something, a sign or an object so I know that you're fine and you're listening.
Chris pondered for a minute before writing something on a napkin and orbing it away to his mom.
The triquetra. Cute. Funny, she said, her voice even sad in his head. Listen, I just wanted to say that...uh...I know that his might be awkward for you.
Understatement of the year...
And...that it must hurt, everything you just found out right now, the people who came back, but I wanted you to know that...I love you. I love you, and you're aunts love you, and that we're here for you.
He let the dam break.
I moved the good towels to the third locker from the right. There should also be some soap and shampoo there. Of course, I don't know if you can shower using a sink, but you're welcome to try.
He chuckled, even if it was only slightly and the joke was corny.
I had your father change the couch in the back room after you moved into the house. You know, just in case you wanted to...just in case you felt uncomfortable. It folds out now, and it's actually pretty comfy. Even you're Aunt Phoebe would sleep on it.
He chuckled at the thought of his aunt "roughing it."
...
I hope you don't...but...there's aspirin in the second drawer of my office desk. Max should have kicked everyone out by now, and should be starting to close. Just tell him not to worry about the alarm since you're there and you might accidentally set it off yourself...don't feel bad, I don't know how it works either.
He smiled in spite of the tears.
Just...promise me, Chris, that you don't do anything too stupid. I...I want to see you in one piece tomorrow...preferably not after I summon you from your grandmother.
...
Well, that's all I got to say right now. I love you, sweetie.
"I love you, too, Mom."
Goodnight.
"Goodnight, Mom," he sighed, feeling the mind that touched his slip away again. He got up from the position on the floor he didn't know he sunk down to and crossed the floor of one of the storage rooms. He said goodnight to Max, told him he was spending the night, and ambled up to the bar. Hesitating for a moment, he surveyed the bottle he picked up without really paying attention to the words printed on it. Shaking his head, popped open the bottle and tilted his head back, downing the drink quickly. The first of many that night.