We're so close... holy shit. What will I do when it's over? What purpose in life will I have? Updating something else for once? Absolutely not.
Names:
Jānis- Latvia
Eduard was 29 when he testified against his abuser.
His hands were shaking so much he couldn't tie his tie. When Logan helped him, he looked like he was about to faint. Logan tried not to tie his tie too tight; Eduard hated people touching his neck.
"I know this is gonna be a long day," he began, "but just know I'll be here for you, in the same room, and supporting you through this. Tino's built up a watertight case, and, when you say your bit, he's bound to get years." Eduard nodded. "I'm so, so proud of you, by the way."
"What if they find him innocent?" he asked. "What if he walks free and comes after me?"
"We'll get to that if it happens, but for the record, I don't think he'd be too keen to cross me again. Or you. You kick back hard."
"But then you'll get in trouble and he might start saying you assaulted him and press charges and have a better lawyer and have everyone believe him because he's a cop and they stick together and you go to prison and he comes back for-"
"Ed, you're spiralling. Look, you know Tino's got his entire squad by the throat. They try and cover Gunner's tracks, he exposes them."
"Tino's one guy."
"But he's a good one."
Eduard nodded reluctantly. "He is."
"And if worst comes to worst, you still have so, so many people ready to help. You're a grown man; they can't force you to move back in with him."
Eduard shuddered, but nodded. Logan pulled him into a gentle hug.
"Whatever happens, I'll be there with you."
"Two years?" Logan tried to keep his voice down, tried to suppress the boiling, shaking rage in his body, if only for Eduard's sake.
Eduard just stared into nothing. Two years. That's all they had away from him. And that's if he didn't get out and go after him. He was sure he could if he wanted. Pretend to behave himself.
An hourglass turned in Eduard's head. Two years worth of sand trickled down into the bottom half, slowly but surely.
He'd be back for him.
Eduard sunk into the sofa, pulling off his tie and trying not to be sick. Logan poured him a glass of water, but his hands were shaking too much to touch it.
Two years.
And it was looking like he'd be back on the police force when he came out. Tino tried to tell him that wouldn't happen, but Gunner was charismatic. It had taken every ounce of evidence, multiple testimonies, and Eduard breaking down in the witness box to sway the jury.
He'd almost given up, with all the questions. The needling for details and evidence and why he'd done this and that. Why had he gone back to Gunner? Why didn't he just leave? Well, he couldn't admit it was to use him to get over Logan. He'd tried to explain the psychology behind it, that he didn't have self-esteem and wanted someone and he didn't care if he was hurt. The whole time, he didn't look at Logan, or anyone, really. He just stared at his knees.
Before the trial had started, Gunner's mother tried bullying him into admitting he was making it all up. She'd not wanted to believe her son could do such a thing. If it wasn't for Logan by his side, he would've caved.
She'd apologised to him after the trial.
Still, he thought he'd have crawled back to Gunner by now, so two years left was better than nothing. He could help Logan get back on his feet, earn money for the family, not be completely useless.
Then Gunner would come for him. Hell, if he spent two years living with Logan, not being able to tell anyone he was in love with him, he might go to Gunner instead, end the misery.
He couldn't believe he was thinking about that at a time like this. Teenage crushes had no place in a courtroom.
"Ed, he's never gonna hurt you again." Logan knelt down in front of him. "Not while I'm alive."
Eduard teared up at the sound of shattering porcelain. He knew he should do something, clean it up, say something, but he just froze. He didn't mean to knock it off the counter, it was on the edge, and he was always so clumsy, like he was moving at the wrong frame rate sometimes, so clumsy and stupid and so goddamn worthless, incapable of being near a simple bit of crockery without breaking it.
"Eddie." Logan's voice was soft. He never spoke softly except with him. Why was he still here? Why did he still take care of him? "Eddie, are you alright?"
He nodded. "I'm sorry. I… the mug was... I broke it."
He looked down, kicking the shards into a little pile. The sound they made on the tiles made Eduard grimace. "It's okay. It's just a mug."
"I'm sorry."
"I have other mugs. It's alright."
He was expecting a blow that never came. A slap. A punch. Maybe even a kick, but Logan just cleaned up the mess, then turned his attention to comforting Eduard.
He flinched at the touch - he couldn't help it - but soon settled into Logan's arms. It was okay. He was safe. Logan wasn't going to hurt him, no matter what every instinct and muscle told him.
He hated that he couldn't stop crying. Logan said he was allowed to cry all he wanted, but there was that pitying look - the heartbreak - the twisted, wobbling frown that made Eduard feel like a child. He tried so hard to shut up and suck it up. To act like an adult for once. It didn't work, not on Logan. He was an open book to him.
Eduard nestled into his broad chest, partially in an attempt to hide the crying, partially because Logan was warm and soft and the closest thing to safety he had. He always had been.
Logan let him cry silently, both pretending he wasn't. He held him until long after Eduard had stopped.
"Hey, guess what I found," Logan mumbled into his hair, eventually.
"What?" Eduard sniffed.
Logan pulled away and walked over to a drawer. "Found it a few days before… yeah." He handed Eduard his copy of The Matrix. "Huna wanted to let you know they're sorry for losing it. And, hey, maybe you can build up your collection again?"
Eduard looked at the DVD box. "They found it."
Logan nodded. "It fell into the sofa cushions."
It felt so long ago. They'd told him time and time again that they'd look for it, that it had to be somewhere. They'd apologised and assured him it would be found. After Gunner got rid of his collection, or even before, he'd stopped caring. It wasn't worth caring about anything.
He held the DVD to his chest.
But he still cared, about Hunapo and Lyubov and Tino and Logan, as much as he told himself he couldn't. Gunner could never beat that out of him.
"I don't need to rebuild my collection," he said softly, "it'll just take up space. There's better things to spend money on."
"Eddie, you should. I remember how excited you were when you first started, and you decorated your shelves with all those figures and models. You spent a week putting a Lego Death Star together for it! I know what your collection meant to you."
"That was uni. I was a kid then." He chewed on his cheek. "I'm too old for that kind of thing."
"Did Primary-school-job Manchild tell you that?"
Eduard almost snorted. "Yeah, but he's ri- no, I'm not doing that. Do you think I should start it again?"
"Yes, and I know starting over is more painful than starting, but it's something to focus on that isn't work."
"I don't just focus on work," he chuckled, "Sometimes I wallow in sadness."
Logan squeezed his shoulder, very lightly. "Yeah."
Eduard stiffened at the sound of the doorbell.
"Hey, it's okay. I'll get it."
Logan opened up the door. Eduard tried to hide out of view.
"Sorry, is this where Eduard Mets is staying?" The voice was familiar. Not Gunner's - it was deeper, softer - but it still made Eduard's skin crawl, just a little. It was a voice he didn't particularly want to think about.
"It's where he lives. Who are you?" He could hear that little twinge of protectiveness in Logan's voice.
"Lars. May I come in?"
"I'll ask him."
"Tell him I'm here to make things right."
Logan paused, raising his eyebrows, but he put his head around the living room door to ask Ed.
"Says his name's Lars. Says he wants to make things right. Want me to tell him to fuck off?"
Eduard bit his lip. "Guess I'll hear what he has to say."
"Sure?"
He nodded. "Let him in."
Logan reluctantly opened the door for him. "I don't know who you are," he muttered as he passed, "but don't try any shit."
Lars nodded. "I won't."
He sat in the armchair across the living room to Eduard, with the posture of a man taking a job interview.
Logan left them to it, making a start on dinner. Maybe Eduard would eat this one.
"Lars, what are you doing?"
They had never really talked much. Seen each other, sure, but Eduard got nervous talking to anyone but Gunner when they were together.
"I've cut Gunner off. What he did was unforgivable and I'm sorry you had to go through that." He smoothed his shirt. It was probably the drug dealer equivalent of what one would wear to a job interview too. "I should have said something."
Eduard stared at his knees for a moment, then rolled up his sleeve. He laid out his forearm for Lars to see. Pink circles, some like bug bites, some the size of coins, decorated his arm.
"Have you ever had a joint put out on your skin, Lars?"
He didn't say anything to that.
"No? How about a blunt?"
"I can't say I have."
"No? You should really try it some time. It's a lot of fun."
Lars's expression was unreadable.
Eduard pointed to one of the burns. "That was the first one. You sold him the joint. I spilt his beer."
"I-"
"Now this one-" He pointed to one right below his inner elbow. "-This one I believe he didn't pay for. But don't quote me on that, after the tenth time you start losing track."
"I'm sorry."
"I don't care that you slept with him. Fucking keep him."
"I stopped talking to him."
"Oh, excellent. What a relief. My arm feels so much better."
"Look, I understand why you're angry, but he's a tough guy to stand up to. It's not like we had the healthiest relationship either."
"Did he ever hurt you, Lars?"
"I'd have liked to see him try."
"I don't just mean physically. Did he have that same kind of power over you?"
"I gave as good as I got. And then some."
"And if he was so incapable of hurting you-"
"Look, it was business, okay? He was a customer."
"So, you giving him ecstasy in exchange for a blowjob, that was business?"
"It's complicated."
It dawned on him. "Jesus Christ. You didn't even cut him off for moral reasons, did you? That was business too. He's not exactly buying off you in prison."
"What? No, no, I-"
"I think you should go."
Lars stood up. "Fine. Fine, I understand. Just…" He fished a white card out of his pocket. "Just give me a call if you need anything. If there's any way I can make it up to you. I owe you one. I'm sorry."
"So you said."
Logan decided it was time to get involved, grabbing Lars by the scruff of his shirt and practically launching him out the door. Furious as he was, he couldn't help feeling a little proud of Eduard. He was sticking up for himself. That counted for something.
This was a mistake.
Everyone was staring at him as he shuffled towards his desk, barely remembering where it was or what it looked like. The least personal one there, it seemed. People glanced at him when they thought he couldn't see them. He tried to ignore it.
He settled down into his cubicle and placed the card from Harry and Reilly on his desk. It was the first time he'd moved it from its original home next to Logan's bed, and it would feel weird, not being able to see it. He logged onto his work computer and got coding, tapping away at his keyboard and spinning algorithms.
He'd always known he was a good programmer. He was talented at problem solving, always had been, breezing through puzzles since he was a kid. He worked hard on the program, the one he privately thought of as his baby, even with the others working on it with him. It felt almost refreshing to do it here, after so many times hunched over his laptop at home, trying to avoid going to bed until after Gunner was asleep. He sat up straight and tried to embrace the quiet chatter of the office.
But then he noticed how everyone was talking. Muttering to each other under their breaths, sending pitying glances his way. The moment he caught someone's eye, they would look away and pretend to be busy. There was chatter everywhere - quiet chatter, not enough to disrupt anyone, but there, everyone belonging but him, and yet he was the one they were talking about.
He wasn't that interesting, surely? Did they all know? Wait, the card, course they did. Everyone knew.
"Eduard, right?"
He looked up. Someone he knew by face only loomed over him. "Right."
He perched on his desk. "Listen, I don't wanna pry, but that boyfriend of yours-"
"Ex."
"Right, ex, what sort of shit did he do exactly?"
Eduard froze. "I, uh- I don't-"
"I don't mean to pry or anything. Just wondering."
His mouth went dry. He couldn't think of a precise example, not in the moment. Not one he was comfortable to share. He went through things in his head. "A-a lot."
"Yeah, but specifically. Like, what was the worst thing?"
He choked me until I went unconscious. He punched me in the jaw until I couldn't talk. He smashed glass in my face and broke my arm. He took away everything and everyone that made me happy. "I couldn't, uh… I couldn't tell you off the top of my head, sorry."
Someone he didn't even know by face joined the two of them at Eduard's desk, glaring at the other man. "What the fuck, man? Why you asking him that?"
"I was curious!"
"Go do your fucking work."
The man walked off, grumbling to himself.
"Sorry about him."
Eduard just shrugged. "I get it."
"Doesn't make it alright."
"No, guess not."
"Let me know if he tries anything again. I'll let you get back to work."
The man clapped Eduard on the shoulder and walked away. He squirmed and bristled and focused on his computer. He could still feel his hand even as he sat down. Modules and subroutines and if statements jumbled up in his head. Maybe he wasn't so good a programmer after all.
That evening, he came home from work to a pair of pale green eyes staring at him from the bookshelf. He didn't see them at first. They glared out from a mound of light grey, coiled up on one of the highest shelves. He wouldn't have noticed at all, but he caught the mound moving from the corner of his eye and swivelled around in a panic.
It was just the mound, shifting around and sitting back down. He blinked. The mound just stared at the wall next to it, glanced at Eduard, and then went back to the wall.
He backed up gently, then ran out of the room, downstairs, into the kitchen. Logan was making dinner.
"Logan. There's a, uh... rat in your room."
To his surprise, Logan just chuckled.
"Not a rat."
"I- no?"
Logan smiled and shook his head. He walked Eduard back up to his room, leaving his pasta to boil. It was pretty big for a rat. Logan extended his hand to it. It mewed and buried itself further into the bookshelf. Now Eduard could see it clearly, it was, in fact, a small, grey kitten.
"Mewie's like you," Logan explained, "they rescued him from his owners a few weeks back. Only one to make it."
"Is this going to become a home for sad, broken people or?" Eduard's heart ached for Mewie, though. The kitten was looking at them in terror, even when Logan offered him a handful of treats.
"I thought you two would be good for each other. Mewie needs someone to respect his boundaries, who knows what it's like to be abused. And I reckon you would enjoy the company of something quiet and gentle. Plus, you just had your first day back at work. Thought maybe you'd like having a friend."
Eduard watched Mewie cower on the bookshelf. "I don't think I'd be a good owner."
"I think it'll take a while for you two to get used to each other, but you both could be just what the other needs."
He thought about it for a long while before sighing. "Fine. But what if I'm a bad owner and he dies?"
"I refuse to believe you'd ever be a bad cat owner. You were always gentle with the ones that showed up in our garden. And anyway, I'll help."
Eduard reached up and offered him his hand. "I do love cats."
"And you were better at showing it than Steveo."
"Was one of the bad things his owners did calling him Mewie?"
"I chose the name, you cheeky cunt. Short for Mewbacca."
Eduard did something he'd been certain his body had forgotten was possible: he laughed. He burrowed his face into his jumper, his shoulders shaking ever so slightly.
He didn't notice Logan was staring for a full second.
He blinked and shut up. "Sorry, sorry, I-"
Logan held out his arms. "Hug?"
Eduard hesitated, then wrapped his arms around Logan's neck. "Thanks for the cat. He's lovely."
"He is." Logan held him gently, his face in his hair. "He really is."
Eduard froze at the sight of the bottle. It wasn't the same brand Gunner used to drink, and the logical part of his brain told him Logan was perfectly entitled to a drink and it was none of his business, but he was still panicking. Still unable to control his breathing and sweating and wish to be anywhere else. Still looking at that bottle, thinking maybe it could be flying right at his head, thinking it could smash over his head and knock him out and leave him drenched in beer with blood dripping into his eyes.
Logan noticed. Of course he did. His eyes rarely left Eduard these days. It took a moment for him to join the pieces. Fussing only ever made him feel crowded, so he poured him water (plastic cup, glass made him anxious, especially when his hands were shaking so much) and stepped away from him, just to give him space. He put the bottles at the back of the cabinet and closed it. Out of sight. Nothing to worry about.
"Do you want to sit on the sofa?"
Eduard floundered. "I- no, I'm- I'm good, I-I-I just- I don't need-"
"Go sit down, Ed. Drink your water."
He nodded and scuttled off to the living room. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright. It's alright. I've got you, mate. I'm here."
He tried to breathe.
"Threw it."
"What?"
He laughed shakily. "Gunner. He'd throw them. Right at my head." He laughed like he was being strangled, squeaky and awkward and hysterical. "Like something out of some shitty TV drama, I swear. On target, course! I-" he doubled over, "I cried! It… it left… It left a bruise!" he wheezed the last word out, clutching his stomach. "Covered in beer. Head to toe. Beer and blood. Like if-" He wasn't quite sure if he was laughing or crying. "Like if Carrie was an alcoholic. Hot diggity shit, that was wild."
Logan touched his hand. "Are you okay?"
"Not even kind of," he chuckled, "Not. Even. Kind of."
Logan tried to hide it. He tried to keep his drinking solely in the pub, where the noise helped drown out the pain and Eduard didn't have to see him. He didn't want to scare Eduard. The guy had been through enough. He could hide his bottles and keep away from him when he was drunk, but he needed something to ease it all. Something to help him forget. If only for a moment. Was it a good idea, drinking when he was already struggling to pay rent? Probably not. Was he going to stop? Definitely not.
"Mate, slow down."
He glowered up at the bartender. Angie was sweet, and she had been close with him and Hunapo, but he was in no mood to slow down. "I'm going through some things. I'll drink what I want."
She sighed and adjusted her ponytail. "I know. And I get it. But you have a liver that needs thinking about."
"You're a bartender," he snorted, "Your job is fucking people in the liver."
"Well, yeah. But I can liver-fuck responsibly."
"And I can't liver-jack-off responsibly?"
"How many beers have you had, Logan?"
"Some. I don't know. I'm not Eddie, I can't count."
"Case in point. Do you want to talk about it?"
"What is there to talk about? They're fucking dead. Not coming back." He blew a raspberry. "Bye-bye. No more Huna. Just me and my sad kids and my sad friend and a wheelchair."
"Well, how are you feeling?"
"Bad."
"I would expect so, but-"
"Baaaaad. BAD!"
"Logan-"
"Not good. Shitty. Nasty. Fucking… I don't know words. Ed knows words. It's not even his first language and he knows words." He gasped. "Terrible. That's words."
"Do you want to elaborate on that? It might help."
"I dunno. I want Eddie to be okay. Does that help?"
"But what about you?"
"What about me?"
"You're looking after Ed, Harry, and Reilly. Who's looking after you?"
"I'm a grown ass man, Angie."
"So's Ed."
"Yeah, but he's really going through it. He needs me."
"You're going through it too."
"Yeah, but I never got a bottle chucked at me."
She winced and glanced down. "That boyfriend of his was a real piece of work, huh?"
He snorted. "Yeah. Y'could fucking say that."
Angie looked at him. "You really love him, don't you?"
Logan shrugged. "Yeah, yeah I do. I hope he builds his life back up. Gets his confidence ba- well, not back but there. Finds someone nice. Someone who- who he deserves. Like Lou. Or Lou 2. Lou 2: Electric Boogaloo. Booga -Lou, huh?"
"What?"
"I dunno." He almost fell off his stool.
"What about you? Why can't he be with you?"
Logan made a face. "He needs better. Not- not a drink. Drunk. He doesn't like alcohol. Used to drink all the time in uni."
Angie nodded. She'd heard all about Gunner.
"You're nothing like him," she told him.
"I know. But- well, he… I'd never hurt him, but he still needs better. He also needs a friend."
Logan fumbled with the lock and let himself in. The house was quiet, but he stumbled in loudly nonetheless.
"Helloooo?"
He barged into the living room. There wasn't a single light on, but the blue glow of a laptop screen lit up Eduard in the corner, a Visual Basic file shining in the lenses of his new glasses.
"Eddie!" Fuck, he wasn't supposed to see him like this. "What are you doing up? It's fucking late. Go bed. Sleep bed."
He was frozen on the spot, staring right through him.
"Fuck, you good?" He fell onto the sofa next to him. When he leaned on his shoulder, Eduard snapped out of it to shudder. "Eddie?"
"Working. Just… I was working."
"You work too hard. Toooooo hard."
"I'm sorry."
Logan laughed. "You're sad a lot, aren't you?"
Eduard didn't even know what to say to that.
"Promise me… promise."
"Promise what?"
"You'll stop being sad. You deserve a bit of happy. Some not-sad. You're always sad. You were sad when we were babies. Promise me you'll stop being sad."
"Yes, I promise. Sorry."
"Do you promise?"
"I said I promise, Gunner!"
Logan paused. Eduard was looking at him like he'd just ripped someone limb from limb, shrinking into the sofa. He almost fainted in terror.
"Eddie, it's me. It's Logan."
"I'm - I - I'm sorry."
"Are you okay?"
He nodded. He was lying. Even completely plastered, Logan knew when Eduard was lying.
"C'mere. C'mere." Logan wrapped his arms around him. "I'm sorry."
Eduard didn't hug back. He stiffened. "Logan…"
He pulled away. "No hugs?"
"No, you can."
"You're just saying that, aren't you?"
"…Yeah."
"Do you want me to sleep down here?"
"Go to bed. I've still got work to do."
"You sure?"
"Just go to bed, Logan." His voice was so soft.
Logan nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really- I didn't think you'd be up, and-"
"Please."
He nodded again and left. Eduard stared blankly at his screen until it went to sleep. Logan found him like that the next morning. Eduard's eyes hurt, and every time he blinked, they felt like they'd been coated in lead. And he hadn't even made any progress on the coding.
"Eddie?"
Eduard jumped. He glanced at the window to find daylight peeking through the cracks in the curtains. Again?
Logan looked awful. His hair stuck up everywhere and his skin had a greyish tinge to it. He was still in his clothes from last night. Not that Eduard looked any better.
"I'm sorry," Logan mumbled, "I should've been more careful. I'm gonna be more careful."
"You don't have to be. It's fine. You don't have to accommodate me and by problems. It's fine. I'm fine." He turned back to his work. "I just need to grow up. You do what you want."
"Not if it upsets you." Logan sat on the sofa, keeping space between them.
"Who cares what upsets me? I can handle it. I'm an adult."
"I care."
"Why?"
"Because you're my best friend and I love you. I want you to feel safe here."
Eduard looked away. "Don't worry about it."
Logan pulled him into a hug, closing the laptop. "You're worth worrying about."
Eduard had to laugh.
"You are," he insisted, "That's why we do it. I've met very fucking few people not worth caring about, and you're not one."
Eduard shook his head. "You're wasting your time."
"I've never been wasting my time with you."
He was never going to be okay. That much was for sure. He would never be okay again. Logan couldn't do anything for him. He was as fucked up as he was. And it was his fault for making himself his responsibility in the first place.
He wasn't built to be happy. He never had been and he never would be. Not properly. Not permanently. That wasn't news to him, of course not- he'd always known. It was drilled into him as a kid, like all his "please"s and "thank you"s. You'll never be happy. Anything that gives you any semblance of it is temporary or lulling you into a false sense of security or hell, just an inconvenience to everyone but you. Some things are made to be broken. You especially. So why bother?
Everything good in life had been temporary: fleeting distractions to keep him going, try and convince him being alive was worth it. His stupid hobbies. His drinking, back when he could look at a bottle without getting freaked out. Lyubov. Logan.
He wouldn't want Eduard here much longer, surely. He didn't even want him here now - he just needed a distraction. Part of Eduard wanted it over and done with. Part of him never wanted to leave. But that was selfish. He was just holding Logan back. The man was a single father, a widower, struggling through life, and he didn't need Eduard here to make things worse.
But where else could he go?
He tried to make it up to him. He toed the line between making himself useful and keeping himself seen but not heard. That wasn't hard, not with all his practice. He had it down to a science. He tidied up almost obsessively, cleaned the counters, put away things they wouldn't yell at him for moving, put out the rubbish. It was the least he could do.
He was sweeping all the debris out from under the sofa when he found Lars's number. Weirdly professional for a drug dealer. Small black text, plain white background, nice paper. Classy.
The worst thing about filling your life with distractions is that it doesn't work. Not even temporarily. Half the shit you do feels like a masquerade and the other half just reminds you how numb you are.
He looked down at the business card and fished his phone out of his pocket. Logan was at work. The kids were at school. He wouldn't be interrupted. And after all, Lars wanted to help.
Then again, logically, this wasn't going to help. Logically, this would only hurt him. He knew the health risks well enough, and he didn't need an addiction on top of everything else.
Then again, logically, if it killed him, he was okay with that. If it ruined his relationship with Logan, if it emptied his bank account, if it drove him crazy, it was what he deserved. What he always had.
He sat on the sofa and called Lars. He picked up fairly quickly.
"Hello?"
Eduard wasn't quite sure what to say.
"Hello?" Lars didn't sound happy to be silent-called. There was something cutting in his voice that made Eduard flinch.
"Uh, is this… is this Lars Mooren?"
"Who's asking?"
"It's me. Sorry. It's Eduard. Mets. I found your card."
His voice softened a little. Maybe he wasn't all bad. "Eduard. Hey, you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Listen, are you still, like… y'know…" He wasn't sure how to phrase this without sounding like an idiot. Or a cop. "Dealing? Drugs, I mean."
"Yeah. Why?"
"I don't know. This is dumb. I just… I'm not a drugs guy. I don't even know if I should… anyway. I'm calling you now. I might as well just say it. Do you have anything that'll make me feel… I don't know. Alive? Not even fully, necessarily, just… kind of."
Lars paused, considering. Maybe turning over the ethics of the subject in his head. Oh, who was Eduard kidding? The man didn't care about that, thankfully.
"When can you meet me?"
"Any time, I guess. I'm working from home most days. When's good for you?"
"I'm free right now. I can come over if you want."
"No, no!" He didn't want him in Logan's house. This place was so much nicer than what they were about to do. "Uh… kids. In the house. Maybe not the best idea. But we can meet somewhere else. Where do people generally do these things?"
Eduard had seen shittier parks, but he wasn't sure where. Scabby pigeons, overfed on the remains of cheap fried chicken and chips, fluttered about on the battered concrete, fighting over the contents of an abandoned paper box. A gaggle of teenage boys kicked a football around, but the playground itself was empty.
Lars himself was waiting for him on an iron bench, the hood of a grey parka hiding as much of his face as it could. Following his lead, Eduard decided it was probably for the best that he put his hood up too. It occurred to him that the black backpack on his lap contained whatever it was he was about to buy. The goods.
He sat next to him. "Afternoon."
"Afternoon," Lars agreed.
"How've you been?"
"Fine."
"What drugs are you suggesting? Prescribing, as it were?" He laughed nervously. He had very little clue what he was doing.
"Snow."
"What? You can get high off snow?"
Lars snorted. At him. "Cocaine," he amended, "Sorry, forgot you were new to all this."
"Cocaine?"
"Blow. Charlie. Coke. It's a stimulant."
"I know what cocaine is."
"You would think so." Lars pulled a little plastic bag out of his backpack and handed it to him.
"Is that the stuff?" He'd never seen cocaine in person before. It looked so harmless. Like flour.
"Indeed it is. It's good stuff, too."
"You're selling me the good stuff?"
"Course. I owe you one, remember?"
"Well, I… I'm flattered."
"No problem. Do you want to try it here? I find if it's your first time, it's good to have somebody around."
"I know how to put cocaine in my nose," he assured him, "I've seen Pulp Fiction ."
Lars smiled. "I don't doubt that. But it's best to have someone around who knows what they're doing. Take a little now and see how you feel."
"Here?"
"This park's seen more drugs than I have. I'll genuinely give you money if none of those lads are high right now. We won't get caught."
"Are you sure? Do I not need a surface or something?" For a weird moment, he wondered if he was supposed to sniff it off the floor.
Instead, Lars put his hand out to him. "Give me your phone."
He handed it over without question. He'd done the same for Gunner so many times, it was muscle memory. "Do you need me to unlock it for you?"
Lars ignored him and fished a credit card out of his pocket.
"Right. The screen. Sorry."
"No, no, it's fine. You're new to this." He laid out an expertly neat line on the screen. "Try that out. Pulp Fiction, like you said."
He took the phone off him. Real, actual, cocaine. For him. Intended for his administration. It smelt weirdly sweet. Like incense, almost. How was this stuff made again?
"So just… snort it?"
"Yeah."
"In the… in the nose?"
"No, Eduard, you snort it into your ears."
"But… not really, right?"
"Right. Look, don't let it scare you. It's only coke. It's not gonna hurt you."
"Unless it does."
"Unless it does. But it probably won't."
"That's very reassuring."
"I'm just your dealer. That's not my job. Now take the damn blow."
"Right, sorry, I…" He cleared his throat and breathed out slowly. This would be fine. Lars knew what he was doing. He raised the phone to his nose and took the whole line.
"What now?"
"Give it a moment. You'll know when it's kicking in."
"Weird aftertaste. Or… I don't know. Is it an aftertaste if it's in your nose? Anyway, it's kind of… in my throat."
"You'll get used to it."
He touched his nostrils, inhaling the dregs of it. It was so much easier than he'd expected. Didn't hurt his nose anywhere near as much as he'd anticipated. Easy, once you do it. Like riding a bike.
Lars was right about it kicking in. The park sharpened in focus. Everything in HD. He could hear the blood in his body, the drugs flowing through it, his heart pounding. It was as if someone had gone over the world in Photoshop, cranked up the contrast and brightness, and airbrushed out all the fog. He felt his mouth form a smile as he turned to Lars.
"Wow."
"Good stuff, isn't it?"
"Amazing." He laughed.
"How you feeling?"
Eduard took in the park. It was a beautiful place, really, in all its concrete-and-litter glory. "Alive."
"That's what I'm here for. You ever done drugs before?"
"Not really. I used to drink a lot. Like, a lot. But when a beer gets smashed over your head, the stuff really loses its charm, y'know? It's like- it's like- you know what it's like? It's like when there's a name you like. And you think, like, "if I ever have a kid, that's what I'm naming it". But then you meet some dickhead with that name. And then you're like… "fuck that name! I'm gonna call my kid Georgia instead. That's a good name." It's like that."
Lars nodded as if he was listening. He had to admit, this was the first time he'd heard Eduard say more than a sentence at a time.
"Georgia is a good name, actually! I should have a kid and call her Georgia. Georgia's a good name. Except, maybe I shouldn't have a kid, because Logan has two already. They're good kids. Chaotic, but good. Like in Dungeons and Dragons, you know? And, Harry, Harry's my baby. Or, she was, when we were in uni. She's twelve now. Can you believe that? Twelve. She was so little, and now she's in secondary school. Shoulda been there." He paused, moving his mouth into strange, exaggerated shapes. He rolled his tongue, then unrolled it, then rolled it again. "But she had Huna. And Logan, of course. Huna was like my replacement. And now they're dead, so I'm Huna's replacement. And they have to come back so they can replace me when I move out of Logan's so it's a proper cycle. We have to take turns. And I have to move out at some point. I really should move out. But it's hard. I don't want to live on my own. I don't even want to be on my own at Logan's. Plus, it's really hard, getting out of the house. The whole trip here, I was waiting for Gunner to get on the bus and beat the shit out of me. He's gonna find me eventually. Maybe he's here."
"He's not here," he reassured him.
"But you would say that. You're his friend."
"Not anymore."
"But you were."
"Eduard, the cocaine just makes you a little paranoid. It happens."
Eduard laughed. "No. No, I'm already paranoid. I can't get more paranoid. I only leave the house to go to work. I don't like standing with my back to the room in case he's behind me. It's not the cocaine. But is he here? Is this a trap?"
"He's in prison."
"He's in prison, yeah." Eduard perched up on the back of the bench, feet on the seat. "Ignore me. I might be a bit high."
"You think?"
"Yeah, possibly. It's actually very nice. It's very nice."
"I doubt you've even reached the peak yet. You'll get there in…" He checked his watch. "About ten, fifteen minutes. Probably less, since you haven't built up your tolerance yet."
"How long will it last?"
"Half an hour, 45 minutes?"
"Logan gets home at 5. Will I be sober by then?"
"It's 3. You'll be fine."
"Good, good. Good good good good good. Good. I don't want him to know. He's got… stuff. Enough stuff. Lovely guy. Deserves to have less of the stuff."
"You and him close?"
"Yeah. Or, I'm close to him, anyway. Or, I was. I don't know. You-know-who fucked that all up. Now everything freaks me out, and he keeps looking after me and that's all… I dunno. Don't like it. Doesn't matter."
"I should've said something before."
"You wouldn't have. Not while he was still paying you."
"You don't know that."
"No, I guess I-" He caught himself. "I do, actually. 'Cause you didn't."
"But I should have."
"Yeah, but, you didn't."
Lars chuckled to himself.
"What?"
"Never heard you so blunt."
"Sorry."
He shrugged. "It's the coke. Anyway, it's good. Means you're getting confident."
"Guess so. Say, how much is it? If I wanted some for later?"
"£40 a gram."
"How many grams do I need to be happy?"
Lars lifted the still-mostly-empty bag between them.
"Ah."
"That'll keep you going for now, though. Call me when it's out, if you want more." Eduard would. He'd be so addicted, of course he'd be back for more. And more. And more, until it finally killed him. Sounded like a solid plan. To die grabbing at whatever semblance of life he could and finally stop wasting Logan's time.
Eduard was gonna love this!
Logan held the battered cardboard box under his arm, fumbling with his keys and grinning like an idiot. This was just what he needed!
Eduard was getting there, slowly but surely becoming himself again, getting out of his shell and the house. Logan didn't know where he kept going, exactly, but it wasn't to work, and it certainly wasn't back to Gunner. As long as he was safe, he didn't need to speculate why he was out. Even when he seemed so sad once he was home. Even if he couldn't shake the feeling it was linked to the evening he'd come home from work to find him manically cleaning the whole house.
He was getting out of the house. That was the important thing.
Logan found him in their room, and set the box down in the doorway out of sight. Eduard was sat at his desktop, Mewie on his lap. The kitten was curled up asleep, and it was the first time Logan had seen it get that close to someone. So, a good day all round for Eduard.
The man in question beamed when he saw him, pointing at the kitten, but daring not to move anymore than that. It was the brightest, most genuine, smile Logan had seen on him in years.
"Hey," he spoke in a low voice, for both Eduard and Mewie's sakes, "I got a surprise for you."
"Another one?" Eduard blinked, genuinely unable to process people being kind to him. It had always been something he couldn't quite understand. He hadn't known why Layla kissed his forehead, or the Coopers celebrated his birthday. And, after years of building him up, Gunner had tore him down again.
"My friend upgraded his set and was gonna donate this," he began to explain, moving the box into the room, "but I asked if I could have it instead. I missed hearing you play."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"I wasn't even good."
"I thought you were pretty good," Logan mumbled, "but even if you weren't, it's something you like doing." Liked. But he could learn to like it again.
He nodded. "Thank you."
Eduard didn't touch it.
Logan would catch him staring at the piano, but every time he asked him to play, Eduard would shake his head and mumble out an excuse. The real reason, though, was he didn't like making too much noise, didn't want his presence known and the attention on him.
Eventually, Logan decided the only option was to phone Lyubov.
"I can't play without you," Lyubov wiped dust off the keyboard with her sleeve. "It's a duet."
Eduard looked at her from his bed. "Sorry."
No one else was home. Logan had thought - maybe - just having Eduard and Lyubov in the house would give him more confidence.
"It's okay, it's okay. I know. But I think there's a keyboard that needs breaking in."
"You're a better player."
"I play guitar, Mets. You're the pianist."
"It's not hard. You just press the keys and music happens."
"I know how to play it. But you know it better."
"Not by much."
"Nonsense, you're a wonderful pianist!" He didn't reply. "Please?" Her lip wobbled and her face fell. Eduard sighed.
"Okay, fine, please don't cry." He got up and sat next to her, running a finger over the keys before gently pressing one. Lyubov smiled reassuringly and let him get used to the feel of playing again.
He tried a few notes, then some chords, and eventually started up a simple melody, something his piano teacher had drilled into him as a child, along with a sense of dread and inadequacy.
He'd missed it, though, playing. Gunner never had an interest, even when they were younger. He'd just dismissed it as another one of Eduard's boring, nerdy hobbies. Logan never understood it, either, but at least he never tried to make Eduard feel small about it.
Lyubov caught him smiling, and Eduard caught himself.
Gunner had always said his smile was goofy. Made his jokes. Then, later, made sure Eduard had no reason to smile.
His fingers came to a halt at the end of the song, and Lyubov pulled him into a hug.
"I missed playing with you."
He put his arm around her shoulders and rested his cheek on the top of her head. "I missed playing," he admitted.
It had been a while since Logan had heard Eduard play alone.
It was one of those pretentious acoustic-y songs Logan didn't have the attention span for, but by God was he happy to hear it. He lurked in the doorway and listened as silently as he could. Eduard's fingers danced up and down on the keys delicately.
And better yet, he was singing. It was sad, but it was beautiful, his voice as soft and deep as he remembered - baritone, as he insisted, though Logan didn't know what any of that meant and generally just went with pretty.
"Signs and wonders, sea lion caves in the dark," he sang, gentle and only to himself, "Blind faith, God's grace, nothing else left to impart."
Something pulled at Logan's heart. Eduard's voice always had a weird quality to it Logan could never place. Something he hadn't heard in any other voice. He couldn't tell you what it was. Maybe he was just in love with him. But as he watched him play, everything else faded into the dark. Eduard didn't see him, but he felt like every word was sung for him. If he teared up a little, that was nobody's business but his own.
The last notes filled the air. "Should I tear my heart out now? Everything I feel returns to you somehow, mmm-mmm-mm."
He switched his keyboard off and went to get up, only to see Logan in the doorway.
"I-I was just playing around with it, I'm sorry, it was-"
"Mate, you're allowed to play your keyboard."
"I wasn't disturbing you?"
"No, no, course not. I was watching. Sorry if I startled you."
"You didn't. Sorry, I was just playing around. Won't make a habit of it."
"You should. It's good."
His face fell; Logan was just saying that. He was trying to be nice. He pitied Eduard and put up with him and didn't really want him making all this noise.
"Makes me happy," Logan continued, "always did. Something about your voice is just… so beautiful. And the rebelling." He held out his hand for Mewie to sniff. "Loved it when you played dad rock. And those alternative songs and the film soundtracks. Songs you liked but your parents would never let you play."
"They're not my parents," he said quickly. Logan smiled.
"Please play more, if you want."
"You really want me to?"
"Yes." Logan pulled him into a hug and rubbed his back. "Please play as much as you want."
The new guy looked as scared as he did.
Or maybe Jānis was just shy, hunched in his little cubicle and keeping to himself. Maybe something bad had happened to him too. He looked like one of those people: attracting tragedy. But then again, maybe not.
He took the desk near Eduard's, working with his head down, the same way he did. People didn't seem to be paying him much attention, and he seemed lonely.
Eduard, already shaking from the idea, stood up and walked over to him. At least Logan would be happy to hear him standing on his own two feet. He kept it in his mind as he hovered around his desk.
Jānis was younger than him. He must have been straight out of university, if that. He blinked up at him.
"Hi."
"You're new here?"
"I am. Uh… pleasure to meet you." Jānis looked rather relieved, like he'd been waiting for someone to be friendly to him, start a conversation. Or maybe he'd thought Eduard was out to pick on him.
"You too. I'm Eduard."
The two of them awkwardly stared past each other for a moment.
"Want a drink?" asked Eduard, fiddling with his blazer.
Jānis nodded and gave a tiny smile. "Yeah, where d'you want to go?"
He blinked for a moment, then corrected himself. "I meant water. Or coffee."
"Oh! Sober drink!"
"Yeah, sober drink. Unless you want to go somewhere after work. I don't mind." Would he be up for non-sober drinks? Maybe if he had a little visit to the bathroom-
No, he had little-to-no filter on coke. Jānis was a chance to start over, no baggage. No stares and prying questions, no tiptoeing, no babying. He could have a clean slate if he kept his mouth shut.
Incidentally, a clean slate was a good surface to snort off. Maybe a line wouldn't hurt.
Focus, Eduard.
"I would like that." He even gave Eduard a little smile.
"Wherever you want to go. I don't mind." Although bars might be a problem. Too rowdy. They made him nervous. And Logan would get mad at him if he brought people home out of nowhere.
"Actually, uh, I only just moved, I don't really know anywhere. But we can go to mine if you want to. I have a lot of drinks at home."
Eduard blinked. Would he be allowed to do that? No wait, surely Logan wouldn't mind? He wasn't Gunner. He wasn't going to hurt Eduard, no matter how much he deserved it.
"I'll just check my schedule, er, Jānis. Want me to grab you a sober drink?"
Jānis nodded and Eduard ducked out of there, over to the cooler to text Logan.
guy at work invited me over, can I go?
His reply came quickly.
course u can dummy have fun
unless it's the guy who was asking all the questions in which case go ahead but i'm gonna punch him
See? Logan wouldn't hurt him. Logan was his friend, and always had been. He smiled at the screen, then went to give Jānis his water.
It was one of those nights. The two of them were exhausted but nightmares kept them up, so they just watched films in bed from Eduard's laptop, Mewie curled up on Eduard's lap. Logan made them drinks, and - for once - Eduard felt brave enough to drink it. He waited until the coffee was lukewarm, but it was progress. Logan had given him the softest smile at that. He was trying so hard to help Eduard, and the guilt prickled away under the surface.
If Logan knew, he'd throw him out, surely?
Logan let out a chuckle at some joke, then turned to Eduard and held out his arm. Eduard tucked it around his shoulders, resting his head on his strong shoulder.
"There's a continuity error," he muttered, half to himself and half to Logan.
"A what?"
"In this shot-" Eduard rewinded the film. "-her hair's in her face, just there. And then you can see her hands up close. They don't move. But then in the next one… boom. Hair tucked behind her ears."
"Oh yeah."
"The actress must have moved it between shots. Like, force of habit."
"How do you notice these things?"
"Keen eyes, I guess."
"They should be paying you for it. Fixing all the errors."
"I don't know. I quite like them being there. I like having something to notice."
"You just like being pendantic."
"Pedantic."
"Proving my point."
"…Shut up."
Logan had no right having that infectious a laugh. When he snickered to himself, Eduard had no choice but to join in. He leaned into him, giggling uncontrollably in the dark of their room. The film went on as they recovered, chests still shuddering, Logan's arms still around him. Eduard leaned his head back against the wall, gazing at him out of the corner of his eye. Logan looked right back with his gentle, crooked smile.
He didn't know why he did it. The exhaustion, maybe. But Eduard leaned up against him, hooking his arm around his shoulders, and kissed him. Dry lips on dry lips, the faint taste of coffee, the distant dialogue of the film. His hands were familiar and warm on his cheeks. Something in him, something 18 years old and quiet for far too long, whispered "Finally".
He pulled back, fingers brushing against his lips. He felt the echoing sensation of Logan's on his. He wasn't sure if he was trying to preserve the feeling or get rid of it.
"I'm sorry."
Logan shook his head. "Don't be."
On the screen of the laptop, something exploded. Mewie got up and walked off. Neither of them noticed.
"Do you want to go to bed?"
Logan nodded. "Got work in the morning."
"Me too." He shut the laptop and put it down on his side of the bed. "Goodnight, Logan."
"Goodnight."
The song Ed sings is The Only Thing by Sufjan Stevens.