warnings: mentions of drug use, mention of a past fatal car accident, mention of past rape, depiction of and references to self-harm, mentions of blood

Chapter 24: The cluster & Will / Riley & Sun

In which Will reaches a milestone, and later Riley does too

When Will is one month clean, they celebrate.

Riley buys a tub of ice cream, one of those plastic gallon containers. She gets the flavor "birthday cake," since that seems the most celebratory of the grocery store's options.

She buys a card too, which they all sign, and Sun decorates the outside of the envelope with little Sharpie doodles of a moon, a river, stars, a sun, a tree.

When Will arrives back at the church with Capheus, he's welcomed by a barrage of hugs and congratulations.

"You guys didn't have to do this," he mumbles as Riley pushes the card into his hands. "It's only been a month."

"A month is a long time," says Riley firmly.

So Will opens the card and wipes his eyes and thanks them profusely. Then Riley presents the tub of ice cream, and the nine of them sit down around the container and dig in with plastic spoons.

"So how does it feel?" Kala asks. "To be a month clean?"

"Good," says Will. Then he shrugs. "Weird." He scoops up some ice cream.

"Weird how?" asks Nomi.

Will looks down. "I guess... I don't really trust myself enough to feel like I really quit," he tells his spoonful of ice cream. "Like what if I fuck up and start using again?"

"Then you start over," says Riley. "It's not the end of the world. You quit once, you can quit again. And if that happens, you know that we'll be here for you. But for what it's worth," she adds, "I don't think it'll happen."

Will glances over at her. "Thanks," he mutters. Then he lowers his eyes again and says, softly, "Also, I've uh. I've been thinking about my dad."

"What happened to him?" asks Lito cautiously.

"Nothing," says Will. "I— When I first started using, he told me I could choose to either quit heroin or get out of his house. I chose heroin, so..."

Lito frowns. "He kicked you out?"

Will nods.

"Mine too," says Lito. "My dad. He kicked me out too."

Will's head snaps up. "What for?"

"Being gay," Lito shrugs.

"Damn. Would you ever go back?" Will asks, after a moment. "If you could?"

Lito licks his spoon and shrugs again. "I don't think so," he says. "Why, would you?"

Will shifts uncomfortably. "I don't know. I— I used to hate him so fucking much for it. I never wanted to see him again. But lately I've been wondering if I should go stop by or something. Let him know I'm okay. Maybe I owe him that, or something."

"You don't owe him shit," snaps Wolfgang, stabbing his spoon into the ice cream.

"No, I know, that was the wrong word," Will says. "But I guess— I don't know. I kind of miss him?"

Wolfgang snorts. Kala shoots him a glare, then turns to Will.

"He's your father," she says gently. "It's natural to miss him."

"I would do anything to see my parents again," Capheus adds. "There is no shame in wanting to make amends."

Will nods slowly, staring down at his spoon. "Yeah," he says. "I was thinking— Well, my dad always said it takes sixty-six days to form a habit. So I thought maybe when I've been clean sixty-six days I'll go back home and tell him."

Riley puts a hand on his shoulder. "You should do it," she says. "If it feels right."

"I agree," says Lito. "If that's what you want to do, you should."

Will looks up. "Okay," he says quietly. "I guess— I guess I will then." He pauses. "Maybe. I don't know."

"I have an idea," says Felix, and everyone looks over at him. "How about you don't worry about it right now and just eat your ice cream before the rest of us finish it."

Will laughs. "You know, I like that idea," he says, and finally, he eats his spoonful of ice cream. "I think that this is the best ice cream I've ever had in my life," he says, swallowing. He smiles at Riley as he scoops up some more.

"Good," says Riley. She smiles back, and for a moment, surrounded by her friends and so proud of Will she could burst, she feels happy. Truly, truly happy.

o - o - o

The thing about happiness, though, is that it never really lasts.

The evening passes and the ice cream melts into a pool at the bottom of the tub. Wolfgang and Felix and Lito leave for work. Night falls. Riley can't sleep.

She lies in her sleeping bag and tries to think about good things, happy things, tries to remember Will's smile and the creamy sweet taste of birthday cake ice cream.

But those memories seem faint now, like something that happened in a dream. A heavy, choking feeling creeps into her chest, and there in the darkness, her mind remembers other things instead. Tonight it's her father, unconscious and bleeding beside her in the front seat of their wrecked car. She remembers crying and holding his hand, remembers the paramedics arriving too late, remembers how she never got to say goodbye.

She wonders what her dad would say if he could see her now. He'd ask what happened to his confident, fun-loving daughter, and what would she tell him? You died and foster care was hell and I ran away and got raped and my baby died, that's what happened, she thinks. At some point life cut her open and carved away the happy little girl she used to be.

It makes her want to cry, to think that she'll never be that girl again. She is crying, she realizes, and her wrist itches, and her forearm, and the palm of her hand.

Silently, she unsheathes the knife that she keeps by her ankle and pushes up her sleeve.

But right at that moment the moon breaks through the clouds and the moonlight shines down through the church's rafters, falls blue on her scars. She thinks of Luna, imagines Luna watching her.

And then, with sudden conviction, she pulls down her sleeve.

o - o - o

She doesn't sleep that night, but she doesn't cut herself either.

Instead, she sits in her sleeping bag, deep in thought, until dawn breaks and Sun wakes up and notices her with a frown. "Riley?" she whispers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," says Riley quickly. "I'm just thinking."

"Thinking," Sun repeats.

"I had an idea," explains Riley. "And actually— Well, to be honest, I was waiting for you to wake up."

"To tell me the idea?" Sun asks. Riley shrugs one shoulder, suddenly embarrassed, but Sun smiles reassuringly. "What's your idea?" she prompts.

Riley inhales deeply. "Okay," she says. "It's about, um, the self-harm stuff I do." Sun nods, and Riley goes on. "Um. So, sometimes when I stop, um. Cutting. It's because I get this feeling, like Luna is watching me. It feels real, like a physical sort of… presence. And then I stop, because I don't want her to see me hurting myself." Riley swallows thickly. "I think the blood would scare her, you know? She— she's only a baby," she whispers, now on the verge of tears. She sounds crazy, she knows. She wonders if Sun thinks she's crazy.

But Sun just nods again, for which Riley is inexpressibly grateful. "Right, so— my idea," she says. "You know that Luna means moon?"

"I do," says Sun.

"Right, so I thought maybe it would help if I maybe drew on my arm, like, pictures of moons. Then I wouldn't... you know. I wouldn't be able to cut myself without seeing the moons and thinking of her."

Sun's expression is unreadable.

"And then I thought," Riley presses on, "maybe... you could do the drawings? You don't have to," she hastens to add. "I just remembered how you drew on Will's card yesterday and thought, you know, maybe—"

"Riley," says Sun. "I would be honored." She says it so simply, so seriously, that Riley lowers her eyes.

"Oh," she says. "I— okay."

"I could do it now, if you like?" Sun offers. "Or later."

"Um, now sounds good."

Sun sits up and digs through her backpack for a minute. At last she pulls out the Sharpie she used on Will's card and scoots her sleeping bag closer to Riley's. "Give me your arm," she instructs gently.

Riley pushes up the sleeve of her sweatshirt and holds out her arm, which Sun takes in her hands.

"There's lots of scars and stuff," Riley points out needlessly. "I don't know if it'll be hard to draw on, or—"

"Riley. It's alright," Sun says with a soft smile. And then she starts to draw, carefully leaving gaps around the fresher cuts.

She draws four full moons down Riley's forearm, stacked one on top of another, and a crescent moon on her wrist.

"Could you do my hand too?" Riley asks.

Sun nods, and draws a circle on Riley's palm. She's about to add in craters when Riley stops her.

"Actually—" she says. "Do you think you make that one a sun instead? To remind me of you maybe?" she explains, a bit shyly.

Sun blinks at her. "Of course," she says quietly after a moment, and adds triangular rays around the circle. "How is that? Do you want more moons?"

Riley shakes her head haltingly. "It's perfect," she says, staring down at her arm until it blurs before her tear-filled eyes. "Sun, thank you, I don't— I don't know what to say."

Sun inclines her head. "You're very welcome," she says solemnly. "I hope that it helps you. But Riley," she adds. "Don't be hard on yourself if it doesn't."

"I know, I just— I just wanted to try it," nods Riley, wiping her eyes. "It can't hurt, right?" she says weakly.

"No," Sun agrees, with a small, hopeful smile. "It can't hurt."

"Also—" says Riley, handing Sun her knife. "Get rid of this for me, alright?"

Sun promises she will. "I'm proud of you," she says, slipping the knife into her backpack.

Riley runs her fingers down her arm and looks up at Sun and smiles. "Me too."

o - o - o

She goes three days without hurting herself before she gives in and scratches at her healing cuts until they bleed.

She stares at the blood, and revels in the stinging pain, and hates herself.

She traces over the Sharpie moons with her finger and resolves to do better.

And she does.

Until six days later, when she buys a four-pack of razor blades from a convenience store.

She doesn't mean to do it, doesn't even quite realize what's happening until she's already left the store. Her heart is pounding and her hands are shaking and her arm feels so fucking strange.

There had been a lady, earlier that day. A lady with a little baby girl in her arms, who'd given her ten dollars and told her to take care of herself. Then the baby had giggled and reached out for Riley, and the lady had said, "She likes you," and Riley had frozen, because all she could think of was Luna.

And that's why she needs these razor blades, she tells herself. Because Luna should be chubby and giggling and alive, not rotting in the ground. Because Luna deserved a decent mother, not a homeless fucking drug addict like Riley was. Because everything in the world is broken and wrong and it's all Riley's fault.

She walks down the street without knowing where she's going, until she reaches a Starbucks and slips inside, gripping the package of blades.

A few moments later, locked safely in the Starbucks bathroom, she pulls off the package's cardboard backing and removes a single blade. She touches it to her skin, glides it over the crescent moon on her wrist one time—

And stops.

Shaking, she throws the blade into the toilet, then dumps in the other three, and flushes. She flushes again, and again, and again, until she's crying so hard she can't breathe and has to lean against the sink, gasping for air.

She turns on the faucet and holds her wrist underneath. It hurts. She dries it off and wraps it in paper towels.

Then she heads back to the church.

o - o - o

She doesn't tell Sun, but Sun sees the makeshift bandage peeking out from her sweatshirt sleeve and knows.

"Riley," she says.

"I'm sorry," Riley whispers.

Sun hugs her tightly. "It's alright," she says. "Don't be sorry."

Together they clean and re-bandage the cut. Riley explains about the baby.

"I wasn't thinking straight," she says.

"I know," says Sun. "But you still stopped."

"I did," Riley concedes.

"That's good."

"I know."

"Tomorrow you will be a different person than you were today," Sun says. "And you'll try again."

"Okay," Riley nods.

She hopes Sun is right.

o - o - o

Riley goes a week without cutting.

She doesn't tell anyone, because she doesn't want to jinx it, but she buys herself a pint of mint ice cream and eats the whole thing in one sitting.

Another week passes, and then she tells Sun.

"It's been two weeks," she whispers in the pre-dawn stillness. "Since I cut myself."

"Two weeks," Sun echoes softly. They're the only ones awake. She reaches over and touches Riley's hand. "I'm happy for you," she says.

Riley nods. "I am too." She glances down at her forearm, at the scars and healing cuts circumscribed by faded Sharpie moons. "It's thanks to you, you know," she says softly, looking over at Sun, but Sun shakes her head.

"You did it yourself," she says. "I only helped a bit."

She helped more than a bit, Riley thinks, but she lets it go. "Don't tell the others," she says. "Not yet. In case I fuck it up." She swallows, looks away. "I'm really, really scared I'm gonna fuck it up," she whispers.

"What was it you said to Will?" Sun says. "If you fuck up then you just start over. It's not the end of the world. And we'll be here to help you."

"Thank you," Riley manages, through the lump in her throat, blinking away tears.

Sun just smiles, and squeezes Riley's uninjured hand, and together, they watch the sky grow light.