A/N- Hi All. It's been a long time since I dabbled in the world of fanfic and I have to say, I've missed writing. That being said, I am a bit rusty, so I hope you'll bear with me. So, this is my first dip in the Hollyoaks fandom, but this story was just nagging at my mind to write it. I'm not even sure if fanfic is a big thing in this fandom but we'll see.
The structure of the fic is going to be similar to a Hollyoaks Later type thing. It's going to cover about a week's worth of time following one character and his story. I will state up front that it will hopefully be realistic to the mental health and alcoholism issues that are being portrayed. The ending will be hopeful if not happy.
Warnings: Spoilers for current John Paul story line and takes place in most recent timeline of the show. Possible triggers for depression and PTSD but nothing descriptive in this chapter. Mentions of attempted suicide in this chapter. Not overly descriptive and in past tense.
Prologue
"What do you mean, he's gone?"
"Honour came to chat with him about what happened, so I gave them some privacy...when I came back, he was gone!"
He hadn't meant to drink that much. His tolerance had gotten pretty high after all. Hell, in his darker moments, he'd even consider himself an expert alcoholic! If it wasn't so pathetic, maybe he'd take some perverted pride in that.
He'd been drinking alone. Again. It'd become a bit of a habit really. Himself for company.
Who else do you really need?
This time was different. This time, he'd reached the point of pleasantly numb and barreled straight through to massive drunken mess!
His mum would be proud.
The nice thing about drinking alone though is that when you do reach this point, it's smooth sailing right the fuck past go and head first into oblivion. No one to bother you.
No one to catch you.
It's at times like this. Alone except for the company of his own twisted mind, realization hits like a crashed school van...the conclusion that nothing fucking means anything!
So what if his drunken mind has thought about ending the soul crushing pain on more than one occasion. The unrelenting guilt eating him alive every waking fucking moment! The haunting of his restless sleep that follows.
No rest for the wicked...
So what? Not that he'd ever go through with it. No, he was stronger than that.
He'd been sent to Hell before and made it out intact...somewhat.
The Devil himself had slithered out of the cesspool and raped him and he still fucking survived! What was this but just another small dent in his battered mind.
He always made it through to the other side.
Until now.
Chapter One
"What did you say to him Honour? WHERE'S MY BROTHER?"
Cleo could sense Merci getting herself wound up. It was only a matter of time before the wrath of the McQueen household came down on the poor unsuspecting Counselor.
"Mercedes, just calm down. We have security looking for him. I'm sure John Paul is fine. Just let Honour tell us what happened, yeah?"
Merci didn't seem placated by Cleo's calming tone but she did however shut her mouth. Though if looks could kill, Honour wouldn't be walking out of the room unscathed.
Honour looked grateful for Cleo's interjection. She had dealt with Mercedes McQueen concerning her son Bobby. She knew that Mrs. McQueen was a fierce advocate for her family and what she had to say now, she knew wasn't going to be taken well.
"As you know, Mr. McQueen..."
"John Paul"
"yes of course. John Paul was found to be suffering from an extreme case of alcohol poisoning."
Merci was already informed by the Doctor of this but to hear it again; it broke her heart. When they found John Paul in the basement. Seeing him like that. He looked dead to her. She had thought she'd lost him too. So soon after her poor Sylver.
But fate was on their side. This time. And he was rushed to Hospital with the staff able to bring him back from the brink of death. It was after everything had calmed and the family gathered around to console one another that she saw it. Prince standing off alone. Lost. The guilt and sadness etched on his handsome face. It was then through tear filled words, that he admitted that he'd known her precious brother was an alcoholic. Suffering for months. Maybe years on his own. Always there for others but never asking for help.
"I think it may have been intentional"
"What? You think he meant to put himself in that state? NO! My brother wouldn't do that! Not to himself, to Matthew. To us! Not after everything..."
Mercedes was angry. Who was this vile woman to throw shade on her little brother. Her family! John Paul was stronger than that. Of course he was! As she tried to convince herself of that she was afraid of what Honour was saying. Merci had known he'd been struggling since George died but thought he'd been getting on with it like he always had. She'd been so preoccupied with her own problems and her all consuming grief. Had she missed what must have been right in front of her? Could he really have done this on purpose?
"The conversation that I had with John Paul today did not reveal much of his inner thoughts but I can say that his countenance was that of someone who had little self preservation. Do I think he was actively trying to commit suicide? No. But I also think that if he succumbed to the alcohol poisoning that he accepted it as his due. It's clear he's suffering from severe depression at the very least. Possibly more. The alcoholism is most likely a by product of an underlying mental health issue"
Merci was silently taking in what was being said about her only brother. Her closest confidant. Taking in a diagnosis from a woman that spoke to him for all of a few moments but saw so much when she was apparently blind to his suffering.
"What do you mean, more? What else could there be? We already know from Prince that he's an alcoholic. You're saying he's depressed. What else?"
"He gave off the effect of someone that could also be suffering from PTSD. I know he was driving the van that crashed with the pupils. That would certainly be enough to cause it but I got the feeling from him that there was something more."
Honour knew she was digging but when speaking with Mr. McQueen all of her experience screamed at her of a man that had been through something very traumatic. More traumatic then a vehicle crash. She knew just by looking at Mercedes that she was right in her assumptions.
"He's had some bad things happen to him. Some horrific things."
Merci thought about Finn. About George. About Tina and Carm. Jesus, it's no wonder he's sane at all.
"But those are his stories to tell. Not mine. I understand what you're saying and let's say that I maybe agree with you but none of this changes the fact that after talking to you, my brother is missing! What did you say to him to MAKE HIM RUN?"
"I advised him that I would recommend that he be held for further psychiatric evaluation."
10 hours later
It'd been a day from Hell. Endless meetings, demands from clients, dealing with a disgruntled employee who felt they were entitled to the world but said world better have a 20 minute break every hour. What happened to work ethic? Oh and of course we can't forget the dodging of last Saturday night's hookup. Scary one, that.
All he wanted to do was unwind with a good scotch and drone out the day with some mindless crap on the TV.
Since the universe had been conspiring against him for the entire day, it was not all that surprising that when he got settled, drink in hand that someone would dare to incessantly pound on his door.
With a healthy swig of the expensive alcohol pleasantly burning his throat, he made his way to give whoever dare disturb his well earned solitude the boot.
Any words that had formulated in his mind died instantly on his lips when he opened the door.
"I need help. Please Craig"
TBC
