It was clockwork.
He'd think he was okay for a few days before he was hit with a whole new wave of emotions he just didn't want to feel. Like a reminder that, 'hey, you have some stuff you haven't fully processed yet'. To which he'd respond by popping open a seal, and pouring himself a drink.
And then another.
And then another.
And another.
Until his vision was blurry and his cheeks began to flush crimson with the rising of his body heat. Until his balance was off and it could took everything in his power to just fucking focus. Until the only words running through his mind were…
I want another.
With a slight push of his hands against his couch, Inuyasha brought himself to his feet. Only to sway a few times, and trying to focus his vision. He stepped sideways a few times, before slowly turning his body in the direction of the kitchen. His hand reached out toward the couch to steady himself when he leaned a little too much to his left. His breath smelled of alcohol, and there was vomit in the sink that he just wasn't bothered to clean off.
Or rather, he couldn't.
Inuyasha's hand swept along the usually smooth surface of his countertop, feeling a light powder under the pads of his fingers, he stopped. Raising a hand up to his eyes, he focused on trying to get his vision to focus, but he was seeing double the amount of fingers he had up to his face. "What the fuck…" he cursed under his breath, words slurred from the amount of alcohol in his system. His doctor had advised him to keep away from drugs or alcohol for a few months following his accident, but he wasn't going to.
He never did.
He'd tried it once, when he was 18 and just starting his career. He was shot after narrowly escaping from a drug exchange with his life. He was told to stay away from it, and he almost did...almost succeeded.
Until the withdrawal started to set in; he'd sweat profusely, and his body would be overcome with nausea and tremors. His heart raced and no matter what he did, he was always on fucking edge. Irritated. Anxious.
It'd taken him a month before he was back at the 7/11 near his danchi apartment, where he used to live with Sesshomaru and his father, buying some whiskey and beer.
He hadn't been fully sober since.
Sober wasn't in his vocabulary.
He brought the powder covered fingers up to his nose instead, taking a whiff of it because fuck if he remembered what the hell it was. It wasn't until the faint floral scent mixed with the scent of chemicals did he realize—or rather remember— what the white powder was. He had a vague memory of using it, followed by tremors and paranoia afterwards. He rubbed his fingers together, and dragged them down his black shirt before proceeding toward the cabinets. He knew exactly where to look, the cabinet's placement was all too familiar to him.
His hand trembled as it reached up toward the handle of the white cabinet, and he could barely remain on his feet as he pulled the cabinet open. It revealed bottles of alcohol, some half empty, some not started. Big, tall ones, short ones. Some of them were expensive, and some not. Tequila, whiskey, gin, cognac, jaeger. He kept the vodka in the very back of the freezer, covered by frozen meats, and vegetables. He tried his best to keep everything hidden, seeing as he now had a frequent visitor to his apartment. Sighing, he leaned back on his heels, forgetting momentarily that his balance was altered.
He'd almost fallen back if it wasn't for his hands shooting out behind him, grabbing—just barely—onto the marble counter behind him. Inuyasha cursed silently under his breath, before squinting to choose which bottle he wanted to finish off, or start. His eyes squinted against the warm light that engulfed his kitchen area. Finally choosing, an unsteady hand reached toward the half empty bottle of whiskey; with some elbow grease, he managed to unscrew the top of it.
He didn't bother to reach for a glass, it wasn't necessary. I'll just drink from the bottle.
He brought the bottle up to his lips, his sensitive nose catching the scent of it. The familiar, almost comforting smell of oak, and smoky undertones almost making his mouth salivate. With a deep breath, he took a swig of it, closing his eyes as the smooth alcohol coated his throat, encapsulating his taste buds.
It was familiar.
It was comforting.
He could faintly hear the sound of his elevator ding, and the sound of footsteps coming in his direction but he was too inebriated to even attempt to turn to look. If he did, he'd probably fall on his ass, and that wasn't something he was too willing to do right now.
"Inuyasha."
It was a familiar voice, male.
"Hm." His own gruff voice vocalized in response, it was the only thing he could muster up at the moment.
"You fucking drunk." He heard the voice speak, louder this time, a bite of anger at the end of the statement. A hand was placed on his shoulder, yanking it backwards, causing him to turn forcefully in its direction. His eyes met indigo ones, and he smiled the only lopsided, drunken grin he could. But it faded once he noticed the grimace on the familiar face. His head dropped slowly as he watched, still with blurry vision, as the other hand reached for the bottle in his own hand, also yanking it out of his grasp.
"Ugh!" Inuyasha groaned, looking up with angry eyes. The hand let go of his shoulder, and Miroku walked past him, all but throwing the bottle into the stainless steel sink. It shattered, his eyes watching at the fragmented glass jumped up slightly, before falling back down into the vomit covered sink. The smell of whiskey and vomit mixing, stirred Inuyasha's insides. Unable to control whatever was threatening to crawl its way out of his mouth he stumbled forward, one hand on his stomach, while the other hand covered his mouth until he reached the sink.
His body heaved, eyes squeezing shut as he emptied out his insides. Between retches, he made eye contact with Miroku who stood on the other side of the island counter. His palms pressed against the edge of the counter, his head hung as he took a deep, exhausted breath.
He was exhausted.
Suddenly, Miroku understood why Sesshomaru had so willingly left...because this...this was exhausting to a soulful degree.
"It stinks in here." Miroku said plainly, filling the short moment of silence between them before Inuyasha retched again. He grimaced inwardly. Miroku wrinkled his nose, pressing the edge of his index finger against it. "Can we crack a window or something?" He didn't bother waiting around for an answer. He knew he wasn't going to get one. Miroku had actually come to pay Inuyasha a visit, not because he wanted to check up on him (although, now that he came he was glad he did), but because he wanted answers in regards to his brother.
He'd gone MIA, and nothing he did seemed to reach him in Japan. Miroku sent him messages on Facebook, Instagram, and twitter. He'd sent emails to both his personal and work email, as well as texted his american and japanese number. Both on Whatsapp and regular iMessage.
He received nothing, it was radio silence. Which wouldn't be as infuriating if he hadn't known that Sesshomaru wasn't going to be coming back for god knows how fucking long. Rolling his eyes at the pathetic state of his friend, he wandered off to the living room area, briefly staring at the large picture of Inuyasha's first Sports Illustrated cover. It took up the space between one shelf on the bookshelf, and the other.
His arms were crossed, hands wrapped in lime green. His legs spread slightly apart in a confident stance, long silver hair held back in a red ribbon. His welterweight championship belt slung over his left shoulder, a crooked, confident grin on his face. Golden eyes glimmering.
That wasn't who he was anymore.
Or at least…
"Damn it." Miroku cursed under his breath, trying to turn the crank to open the window. It didn't budge for a few moments before it finally cracked open. He felt the cool breeze from the outside start to make its way in. He turned back toward the kitchen, Inuyasha still hung his head over the sink, palms planted firmly on either side of the sink. Miroku wanted to say something, anything. But his brain was drawing blanks and he was too frustrated to even try to think of anything smart to say. So he did the only thing he knew how to do when this happened.
Miroku cleaned up.
Without a word, Miroku walked back toward the kitchen, he gently pushed Inuyasha out of the way so he could access the cabinet under the sink from which he took out a trash bag. One by one, Miroku picked up every empty can of beer that he could find, gingerly picking them up between his index and thumb, dropping them into the bag as he walked around the apartment. And all Inuyasha could do was stare as Miroku picked up his messes once again.
"Why...why do you do this?" Inuyasha croaked out, finally able to find his voice, his words still slurred, but Miroku could understand him just fine. His question prompted Miroku to glance in his direction, shooting him a look that both wanted to eradicate Inuyasha from the earth, while seeming to also offer pity. It made a low grumble start in Inuyasha's chest.
Why do I do what? Clean up your messes?
It was simple: there wasn't much else Miroku could do to help. He could try to pressure rehab, but then he would run the risk of losing his greatest friend in the process. He could leave, but that would leave Inuyasha to his own devices, with no one but Sesshomaru to support him. He knew Inuyasha had his reasons, he had his own demons to deal with...so he let him. Miroku let him deal with his own issues however the hell Inuyasha wanted to because he knew that all he could really do was be there for him at the end of it all, with a trash bag in hand, ready to pick everything up.
It made him feel horrible, like an enabler. But when all other options weren't as great… What else was he to do?
"That's all I can do."
"All you can do?" Inuyasha cleared his throat, swallowing. The acidic aftertaste of the vomit making him feel as though he was going to hurl once more.
"All I can do." Miroku repeated, making his way back to the kitchen, he bent down to pick up pieces of broken glass when he felt his hand brush against a sort of graininess on the floor. He lifted his hand, and noticed the edge of his hand was dusted with white. He glanced up at Inuyasha who was trying to compose himself, and then back down at his hand. "Really?" He asked angrily. Inuyasha glanced over in his direction, and then groaned in response. "What the fuck!" It started out as a whisper but ended in a holler, as he threw the bag off to the side, no longer interested in cleaning up his mess.
"Don't start this Miroku." Inuyasha groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's an occasional thing."
Sure, keep telling yourself that.
Miroku wasn't one for violent tendencies unlike Inuyasha. He was usually calm and collected; Inuyasha's voice of reason when everything else failed on him. But seeing Inuyasha in the state he was in, knotted hair, dark bags under his eyes, with red puffy eyes from crying, or vomiting...or both. His eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, vomit on the side of his lip.
Miroku was angry at himself more than anything for letting him do this to himself. He felt tears threatening to spill over, but he quickly wiped it away with the hem of his shirt. He took a deep shaky breath before speaking again. "You need help."
"No." Inuyasha responded, his voice cracking. Miroku nodded his head quietly taking a step forward, Inuyasha took a step back. Don't fucking touch me.
"We're getting you help." Miroku answered, his voice losing its angry edge. It was silent after he said that, his words hanging suspended in the air, the sounds of the city filling the apartment from the open window. He stared at Inuyasha, who leaned against the cold glass of his refrigerator door. "Did you hear me?"
Inuyasha stayed silent, before turning around, his back facing Miroku, his eyes taking in the blurry lights of New York City. "No." He replied again, bringing his arms up, hugging himself. His ears flat against his head.
"You can't keep living like this." Miroku told him, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm tired."
"Then go." Inuyasha snapped back, looking over his shoulder. "No one is keeping you here."
"You are keeping me here." Miroku answered almost as soon as Inuyasha had finished his statement. "How much longer are you going to do this to yourself? To your career?" He walked over, closing the distance between them. He brought his hands up to Inuyasha's shoulders and shook him, hard. He watched as Inuyasha, almost lifelessly, rocked back and forth, unphased by Miroku. "Why is everything so unbearable for you now?"
Now?
Now?
Things were unbearable for him as a kid. Things were unbearable for him as a teenager. He was thrusted into this career, no one really asked him if this is what he wanted, no one asked him if he was okay with this. Sure, it provided him an outlet for his anger and frustration with the shitshow that was his family life, and of course it gave him a way to get himself off the street. It'd given him money that he only dreamed of touching as a kid. But between the charity claiming to see "talent" and Myoga constantly pushing him for 8 years...he was tired, even before he reached stardom. Stardom only added to it. That wasn't to say he resented his career, he loved fighting, and the adrenaline rush, the roar of the crowd. He loved the spotlight after his fights. He didn't love the fact that it spilled over into his personal life. And every day more cameras, and more flashing lights and more magazines and brands and interviews and people wanted to get their grimey little hands on him.
It was hard for him to fake a smile all the time.
So he turned to drugs, and alcohol. Something that he could do in the safety of his own home, where there were no prying eyes, no cameras to follow him around, no expectations except the ones he set for himself.
Which were laughably low.
"Things always have been." Inuyasha said softly, turning his head so he didn't have to look at Miroku. Throwing up again had managed to sober him up lightly.
"Why are they unbearable now, though?" Miroku knew things were hard for Inuyasha then, when they were kids...when they were teenagers. He wasn't blind to it. But things were different now. His life had taken a complete 180 and Miroku's had too...so why were things still eating at him?
Inuyasha couldn't just tell Miroku the mess that was his own mind. He couldn't just tell him that more often than not he wished he was fucking dead. He couldn't look at his best friend in the eyes and tell him that it was hard to get out of bed most days. Doing basic things like brushing his teeth and taking a shower and putting on some clothes was hard, almost painful.
I just can't.
Inuyasha wasn't going to add more to what Miroku had to worry about, which he recognized was much more than he should have on his plate.
So he shrugged instead.
"I don't know…"
"We're getting you help." Miroku repeated, his hands still placed over Inuyasha's shoulders. One hand moved to the side of his neck. Inuyasha could see, feel, the worry in his eyes. "We're cancelling the rest of your fights this year."
"NO!" Miroku would've been taken aback if it wasn't for Inuyasha having a habit of doing this, objecting to everything that was for his greater good. He sighed, removing his hands from Inuyasha, running a hand through his own hair.
"Yes." Miroku responded.
"No." Inuyasha stood his ground, the panic he felt growing in his chest causing him to sober up.
"You won't be taking any losses." Miroku explained, "This isn't your only income."
"I know. I have multiple sources." Inuyasha said in response. "I'm not taking a hiatus."
"You are." Miroku shot back, and Inuyasha had to restrain himself from grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. Work was one of the one things that helped him keep his sanity, he would be damned if he couldn't do that for the rest of the year.
"Vermont." Inuyasha replied, and Miroku looked at him with a puzzled look. When realization hit, Miroku sighed in response, tugging on his earlobe as he always did when he was annoyed or frustrated.
"No."
"Vermont." Inuyasha said again, "One month. I'll be back in the last week of July." He crossed his arms defiantly. "That's as much a hiatus as you'll get out of me, Miroku." Miroku sighed in response. He knew Inuyasha had a habit of throwing himself into training. He'd already scheduled to spend the next month leading up to his fight against Koga training at the UFC facility in Las Vegas. He bit his bottom lip as he tried to make a decision. He didn't want Inuyasha out of his sight, at least in Las Vegas he had other fighters keeping an eye on him and he was expected to conduct himself in a certain way.
But in Vermont…
He was supposed to go to Vermont at some point that summer, for two weeks, as they had discussed months prior, anyway.
"Take Kagome with you."
"What?"
The property he owned in Vermont was meant to be an escape, an oasis. He wasn't going to bring Kagome with him. She was going to be a disruption to this hiatus.
"I want to keep an eye out on you in Vermont but I can't join you, I have other business to attend to here; yours, mainly." Miroku replied, folding his arms across his chest. "So take her, for my peace of mind at least."
"Fuck no."
"Inuyasha—"
"This is supposed to be a hiatus for me, right?"
Silence.
"Right?" Inuyasha pressed.
"You're taking her." Miroku said, "You can take my girlfriend too, to keep Kagome distracted if it helps you not want to kill her."
"I'm not hauling Kagome, Sango, and Myoga with me to Vermont."
"Myoga?" Miroku asked, blinking hard, "Myoga?"
"I have a fight in a month and a half, I'm not just going to fucking relax for a month right before it. And it's against Koga. I have to figure out my strategy. I'm not letting that bitchass wolf win." Inuyasha replied, and Miroku quickly realized that Inuyasha had a point.
"Okay fine...don't take Sango." I have some issues to work out with her, anyways. "But you're taking Kagome. Lord knows you guys need to work your shit out."
Inuyasha turned, heading back into the kitchen, no longer able to support the smell of his own vomit marinating in his kitchen sink. He turned on the hot water, and let it run over the bottom of his sink. He swished his hand around in the stream of water periodically to get it to hit the sides of the sink. He let the words Miroku said sit in his mind for a little, before he glanced over in his direction. His eyes burning slightly, as he was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion. "I can leave in two days."
"Taking Kagome?" Miroku asked, sticking his tongue into the side of his cheek waiting for a response. He watched as Inuyasha dropped his head, irritated. His ears doing that familiar, rapid twitch they do when he's annoyed.
"...She won't agree." He glanced over in Miroku's direction, clearing his throat before he spoke again. "She has a day job, you know. Helping Sango with thor business, it's hard enough for her as is."
He remembered what she'd said at the museum.
"I pressured him into it. I was getting tired of constantly going to events and dinners and...mentally and physically exhausting events. I work all day before most of them, so it's like double exhaustion. I wanted to take it easy for once...have a slow day."
"So you suggested spending the day walking around the museum?" Inuyasha questioned, a black eyebrow raised before he rolled his eyes, huffing. "Okay then, if it makes sense to you who am I to tell you it doesn't."
"It's better than spending the night at some loud club, or social event after a day at work." Kagome argued, and Inuyasha could accept that it was a valid point.
"She will. Sango is supportive of this." Miroku said, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his shorts. "I can text her right now."
"It's late."
"It's only 10:30."
"It's not that simple for these girls, Miroku. It's their business we're messing with." Inuyasha replied, getting annoyed as he moved slowly toward his refrigerator, taking out a bottle of water.
"What's with all the sudden consideration?" Miroku questioned, quirking an eyebrow at Inuyasha. "And we aren't messing with their business, we're adding to it. We're getting them extra revenue. Which means more sales, which means more money. If anything, you and Kagome disappearing on a trip, would probably help their sales. Have you even stepped foot in there in the recent months? You can't, it's always packed. They got that teenager working there almost every single day now. Their business is fine."
Inuyasha rolled his eyes. Of course it would be.
"Think about it." Miroku said, and Inuyasha, surprisingly, answered quickly.
"Would it help you feel better if Kagome went with me?" He asked, turning to look at Miroku.
Of course it would help Miroku feel better. Of course it would! He didn't feel okay letting his friend, who was obviously not doing well, go to the countryside in another state for a month without him. It almost felt irresponsible of him to not go. But he needed to fix what was going wrong in his relationship, and also answer back to that negotiation he was working on a few days ago during Inuyasha's interview.
Which reminded him.
"Have you spoken to your brother?" The answer, he felt, was obviously going to be a resounding no. Which was only confirmed by the empty laughter that rocked Inuyasha's body.
"Haven't spoken to him in a good...month or so." Inuyasha replied, and Miroku sighed. "What? Jaken not doing a good enough job with my shit?"
This is exactly why I need Sess back, Miroku thought to himself. "No, it's not that it's just...I trusted Sesshomaru more with your stuff." Miroku said. "He communicated with you more, didn't he? He kept a clear line of communication. Do you even know he's in Japan?" Inuyasha shrugged in response.
He didn't care much about his brother's whereabouts, it didn't affect him. Their relationship was done, dead, gone. He wasn't going to apologize or hire him back, and Sesshomaru was never going to stop making Inuyasha feel like shit every chance he got. The most supportive thing Sesshomaru ever did for him was go to his fights, and even then they sometimes argued. He waved his hand dismissively, signifying the end of that topic of conversation. Inuyasha decided to bring the conversation back to Kagome. "So..when are you going to text her about this?"
"Tonight. Right now, if you want?" Miroku asked, holding up his phone in his hand. "Simple yes or no."
"It's not that simple."
"For you, I mean." Miroku clarified, raising his voice slightly. "Simple yes or no. Yes, and that means you get that compromise with me. No, and it means you get the rest of the year off instead of just the one month." After a few seconds he added, "so, do you hate her that much?"
Do you hate her that much?
The answer was...he wasn't sure. There were aspects of her that he found charming. Like her humor, and how intelligent she was. The grace with which she handled herself in front of cameras and how quickly she could catch on to the lies he would spin about them for the media. But by the same token, he couldn't stand how pretentious she could be. He couldn't stand how she always seemed to take things one step further, he couldn't stand how easy she was to anger (though, to be fair, he was equally as easy to anger). He found it hard to finish one date with her, seeing as their personalities clashed so much. He couldn't imagine what spending an entire month, from day to night, in the same vicinity as her would do to him.
Do I hate her enough to give up the whole year?
Fuck no.
"Text her."
Miroku took a second to look at Inuyasha. Really look at him. The area under his eyes that was discolored, and slightly puffy. The dark circles that surrounded them, were a tell tale sign of perpetual lack of sleep. Miroku wondered how long it's been since he'd slept longer than an hour, if at all. His eyes, which in the past seemed to always have mischief dancing in them, were now dull, and tired in comparison. He realized that it wasn't just now that they lost their flair. His hair, always perfectly kempt, was knotted and matted, particularly the area behind his ears and between them. Some strands near his face had remnants of his vomit, others were stained by dried blood. He smelled of alcohol and sweat, and if at all possible, bad decisions.
"I love you." Miroku said, still staring at Inuyasha. Inuyasha paused in his movements, the one hand that was holding his water bottle, suspended in the air over the counter. He contorted his face into one of thinly veiled disbelief. "You're my brother, Inu. You know that, right? You're family to me."
"I know, Miroku." Inuyasha responded, "I love you too."