Douglas' watch read just past 3. "TJ, how're you doing?"
The rustling of clothing was his only answer at first. The fumbled clicking of a belt buckle. A pause—and the sound of someone falling against the stall fixtures. Douglas leapt to his feet.
"TJ!"
TJ looked dazed, crumpled against the far wall. He faced Douglas, arms askew as if he had tried to catch himself on the handicapped bar. The side of his left hand was bleeding, possibly from a corner of the metal toilet paper dispenser. A red welt rapidly surfaced on his forehead; he must have glanced the wall on the way down.
"TJ, can you hear me? Hey, hang in there. We're gonna get through this, okay? It's gonna be all right," rambled Douglas.
Apparently this was the last straw. TJ simply broke down, all-out sobbing within seconds. He was sheet-white from being sick, clammy, dark circles under his eyes, and trembling. His shirtfront was stained from leaning over the trashcan, lips dry and cracked, eyes bloodshot when they weren't squeezed shut with how hard he cried. His breathing came in ragged gasps. Douglas sank down beside him, holding a wad of toilet paper to the cut on TJ's hand, and pulling him into a side hug. Who cared, it's not like there was anyone else to see them.
"I c-c-can't take it an-n-n-nymore, Dougie! I mean—I know it's—all m-m-my fault, b-but—but it's never—been this b-b-b-b—bad! 'N th' s-snow, an'—"
"Don't worry about any of that right now. I've got you, I'm right here, you and me."
"I just w-w-wish it would—" TJ fought for air, "end alr-ready! Jus' let it end…"
"It'll be over before you know it, and you'll be fine."
"Not jus' th-this, Dougie…Mom an' D-D-Dad an' the—p-p-pictures, an' stories—an' the pressure…I hate it! It all hurts-s-s-s so much, I jus' wish I could s-s—top it, stop it all!"
Those last words plunged down Douglas' back like ice. He had no idea if TJ even knew what he was saying. By all appearances he had never shown such an inclination tonight or any other night, and yet this emotion had to have built up somewhere. First term, second term, each new affair of their dad's, involuntarily coming out of the closet, all the schedules and protocols and expectations, one guess was as good as the next. It was enough to screw up anyone for life. Douglas just wished he knew why it hit TJ so much harder than himself.
"Listen, it's going to get better. We're finally going to get to live our own lives. We can do what it takes to get you clean, so this stuff isn't hanging over your head. We'll figure it out," he said softly. TJ took some time to get himself together a little.
"But it's never really going to end, is it? Mom and Dad aren't just going to quit politics, it's what they live for. People will still talk about Dad's affairs long after the fact, even if he never does it again—how much you wanna bet on that? I'll always be the novelty queer druggie of the White House. This is what we are, this screwed up family…"
"Stop talking like that! We're not perfect, and probably far from it relatively speaking. But we can't let that be the only way we define ourselves!" Douglas paused to check on the cut and where TJ hit his head. Neither looked too bad, in the scope of things. He also pulled away just far enough to grab the blanket from under the ajar stall door. "Rest here for a while. If you're feeling up to it in a bit, we can try heading out to the rest of the stuff. Sure you don't want to try some water?"
TJ nodded, utterly exhausted.
Douglas settled into the corner so he didn't have to brace TJ by himself. Blanket draped over both of them, TJ leaned over so his head rested on Douglas' shoulder from the side. He still had chills, but they weren't quiet as pronounced.
"Dougie?"
"Yeah, TJ?"
"Thank you. I know…this has to be probably the worst night of your life. It's definitely mine, even after being pulled out of the closet. But you didn't hesitate for anything. I just wanted to say that I am grateful for that."
"Anything for you, bro. As long as you don't go making this a habit."
TJ snorted, an almost-laugh. Douglas smiled.
"Take it easy for a bit."
. . .
It was a small movement that made all the difference. Barely a stir, might not be worth waking up, even. Wait, waking up?
Douglas jerked upright, in itself not a huge move as only his head had slipped to the side. His cheek felt numb, having been forcefully unstuck from cold tile, after apparently resting that way for a while. He checked his watch—almost 6:30 in the morning. It was his heart that truly jumped into action, remembering that he had vowed to stay awake in case anything else happened to TJ.
His twin brother was the one who had stirred first, his face twisted in discomfort, but otherwise nothing was out of place. Well, aside from the fact that they sat on the floor of a rest stop bathroom, forced to wait out a snowstorm.
"Hey, TJ, wakey-wakey," Douglas groaned, trying to stretch while moving TJ as little as possible. TJ reflexively sucked in a deep breath, perhaps less hampered than he had been for the last few hours.
"Nnnnn?"
"You doing okay?"
"Hurts…"
"I bet we're both pretty cramped up after dozing off on the bathroom floor…"
"No…hurts."
Douglas instantly went on alert. "What hurts, what's wrong?"
"Stomach…head, chest…muscles just…ache…" TJ's expression flinched as he tried to shift position.
"Still feeling nauseous?"
"Not as much…"
"What if I got you out to the lobby, and you could lay down for real again? Maybe take some pain meds from the first aid kit?"
TJ shrugged, so Douglas took that as a yes. Tossing off the blanket (and bracing for a few moments of cold) he slowly got both of them on their feet. The side where they had slumped together was soaked with sweat, but TJ didn't feel quite so feverish anymore. They made the journey without incident, though TJ was visibly relieved to sit down again. Douglas surveyed the situation.
"Don't lay down just yet. Let's get you into a cleanish shirt first. You can have my undershirt from yesterday."
"Huh? Oh…yeah," TJ processed out loud, looking down at his front. He allowed Douglas to help him with the t-shirt switch, followed by his own dress shirt just to have something over his arms. The clothes he had been wearing when they arrived here were still damp. Douglas stuffed a few relatively dry items into one of their backpacks, and set it up at the head of the still-half-folded blanket on the floor so TJ would have a pillow of sorts.
"How's that?"
"Not a bad nurse, for a straight guy," mumbled TJ, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. Douglas tapped his shoulder with a loose fist.
"Beggars can't be choosers, but I'm glad it's helping. You think you could drink enough water to take a couple Motrin or something from the kit?"
TJ contemplated this for a moment or two, then slowly nodded. Douglas stiffly rose, retrieved the other blanket and cup of water from the bathroom, and grabbed the little travel first aid box. TJ took the pills without too much difficulty, which hopefully would stay that way. Douglas also took a piece of gauze and some medical tape to cover the cut on TJ's hand. The welt on his forehead was a dark blotchy purple, but nothing more than that.
"You relax for a while, just let me know if anything doesn't feel right. I'm gonna get a couple things for myself, okay?"
"What time is it?"
"6:30, going on 7. It'll be getting light out before too long." Douglas fished out some more cash, deciding on Pop Tarts, a trail mix bar, and one more cup of coffee. The lobby was drafty with its glass doors on either end. Improvised breakfast in hand, he wrapped up in the other blanket with his back against the wall. The radio hummed pointlessly, so he switched it off. TJ watched him, more alert than he had been in hours.
"You know, this would almost be like a fun camping adventure, if I didn't feel like crap."
"Sounds like you're in a better mood, so at least maybe not as crappy as you felt earlier?"
"True. I was kind of in and out for a lot of it, which made it worse, I think. Must've been bad, if I managed to fall asleep sitting up like that."
"We were both pretty worn out by then."
"Bet I said some wild stuff, though. You never know what's gonna ramble out when you're, well, you know…"
"Yeah…" agreed Douglas. He didn't have the heart to ask exactly how much TJ remembered. This had to be the most relaxed moment of the whole ordeal, and anyway, perhaps it was for the best that some things be left to the blankness of drug fog.
A rapid beeping tune startled both of them. TJ's phone, which was still plugged in, suddenly came to life. The screen displayed 'MOM.' Douglas froze.
"Oh God, she's gonna kill us."
TJ half-rose and twisted around. "What's up?"
"No, you stay put. I'll try to think of something."