Merry christmas, all!

.

.

Sleeping on my own couch while my boyfriend - if I could call him that at this point - slept a few yards away was a lot easy on my spine. The aching was nowhere near as bad, especially while it meant I could tiptoe down the hallway to check on him every few hours. He wasn't comfortable. I could tell that from the doorway. I didn't dare to touch him, though; I couldn't see that ending well for me.

His phone rang just before midnight. I hesitated before answering it, but it was Alistair's ID that flashed across the screen. As much as I was thankful that he'd been able to come and be with Carlisle when things had gone terribly, I was pissed that he'd abandoned him without even telling me was leaving. "Hey, Alistair," I said carefully as I picked up.

He scoffed. "He's more of a moron than I thought. I suppose he let you walk back in with no consequences?" he grumbled. "I didn't call to speak to you."

"I live in this house too," I grumbled back.

"You don't need to be answering his phone," he snapped. "He's already stupid enough not to cut you out of his life completely. For the love of god, don't tell me that you two are back together!"

"No! No, Alistair, just calm down. He's barely speaking to me, jesus," I defended quickly. I ignored the swear he muttered under his breath.

"Well, how is he? He was in a pretty bad way last time I saw him, and he's not talking to me much anyway." He finally relented, sighing through his teeth.

"He's...not great," I admitted. I didn't know how much I could explain to him without Carlisle murdering me when he found out I said something. "I haven't been home in weeks, but he's really not coping on his own."

"And you're taking advantage of him being sick and crawling back in just because he needs you," he snapped. "Don't do that to him, Garrett, he deserves better than that."

"I'm not! Al, I'm here because I live here, and I don't want him to starve to death." It was a thin lie, and we both saw through it. It would be much easier for me to stay with my brother and not have to worry about any of this, but I couldn't just abandon him.

"You don't have a chance with him now, give it up, Gar." He was being nasty for the sake of being nasty now, and I swallowed the hurt. He could be a real jerk when he wanted to be.

"Al, I love him, Come on."

"Give the phone to him; I didn't call to speak to you."

"He's asleep; I'm not going to wake him up," I grumbled. "Call back in the morning, it's late."

"Stop being difficult. Go give him the phone." Getting more hostile, he was speaking through gritted teeth. "He's my best friend."

"You don't kiss your best friend, Alistair."

"You don't cheat on the guy who proposed to you."

"Was it just a kiss?"

"Do you really think he was in any condition to do anything more than that?"

"I don't know! He's had enough energy to violently hate me for the best part of a month," I spat back. "Did you sleep together or not?"

He huffed. "Technically, he'd dumped you, and we just fooled around - not sex." He sounded triumphant, like he was grinning, and I was suddenly glad that he was in another state to stop myself hunting him down and slaughtering him.

"Alistair, you had your chance with him," I seethed.

"And you stuck your dick in a woman after he proposed, are you really going to get angry with him for sucking mine?" He sounded so, so pleased with himself, and I was fuming, trying to stop my hands shaking as my blood boiled.

"I told you to look after him, not the other way around," I hissed. I was seconds away from squeezing his phone so hard that it shattered, but I couldn't figure out how much he was telling me just to wind me up; I didn't trust him not to lie to me just to get a rise.

"I did; we went out - I brought him dinner, and cuddled him after when he was upset over you and not feeling so great because the guy that he loves slept with a whore," he said sweetly.

"You're a dickhead! You're the one that just yelled at me for 'taking advantage'."

"I'm not listening to this, Garrett, I didn't call you." He cut me off before I could get another word out, hanging up on me. I stood in the kitchen for a while longer, forcing myself to breath and set the phone down, before I broke it. Carlisle would hate both of us if we started fighting - I didn't want to know whose side he would take.

I was hit with the sudden realisation that I needed to fix things with him before Alistair weaseled his way in - that man had always had a crush on him; there was no way Randal was more than a distraction. Or maybe I was just paranoid.

I had to fix this.

.

.

The sun had barely come up when I dragged myself out to the drug store. Just from the glances I got at his arms yesterday, I knew we were going to need more than sticking plasters and crepe. The man behind the counter didn't look pleased to see me in the slightest, even less so when I had to bother him for advice. It didn't help that I hadn't actually seen his injuries since I came home.

I'd lost all my confidence by the time I got back in the front door. The house was still quiet, silent even, and a wave of panic hit me as I realised I hadn't checked on him since the night before. Hopefully Alistair hadn't spoken to him before I had.

Except he was curled up in my spot on the couch, arms wrapped around the blanket I'd slept with, my sweatshirt under his head as it lay draped over the arm of the couch. Maybe I wasn't too late. I quietly shut the front door behind me, but the soft click of the lock was enough to wake him up. The smile that I forced became a little more genuine as I saw the honest relief in his expression. "Hi," I started awkwardly.

"I thought you'd gone again." He'd been upset. I'd made him cry again because I was a terrible, terrible partner. A terrible person.

"No, Carlisle, I promised I was staying, remember? I, um, just went to the drug store. Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." I dropped the bag on the kitchen table, watching him as he pushed himself up on one elbow, not letting me out of his line of sight. "It's early; I didn't think you'd be up yet," I admitted.

"I wasn't - Alistair called me," he mumbled. Just the mention of his name made tears well up again, and I realised with sinking dread that it wasn't me that'd dealt the damage this time.

"I suppose he told you we got into an argument," I sighed, roughly rubbing my forehead.

He nodded, quiet for a moment. "I don't think-" He stopped, swallowing to regain composure. "I don't think we're okay."

"You and him?" I clarified dumbly.

"Yeah." He picked at his fingers until he drew blood, reopening old wounds.

"What'd you mean, Carlisle? He was pretty damn defensive about you last night-"

"I fucked him, Garrett. You'd been gone less than six hours and I'd had so much medication, and I didn't think he'd stay with me if I didn't let him-" He stopped again, glancing up to see whether he'd said too much, his eyes wide on mine.

I took a risk, sitting on the other end of the couch from him. "He loves you, he would have stayed." Of course Alistair had fucking lied to me. Of course he had. He was in love with him - why wouldn't he?

"No, he wouldn't have; he's so mad at me for not cutting you out completely, and he kept asking me to move to Georgia with him, but I know if I agree to that, then I'm agreeing to being with him, and I don't have those kind of feelings for him, and I think he's going to shut me out if I don't." He was shaking so hard I was worried he would vomit, falling back onto the pillows as he got dizzy and curling up again. Apparently done talking, he was shutting down again.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, the ticking of the clock so loud that it fought to drown out my pulse. I cleared my throat. "Hey, um, I bought stuff that might be better on your arms, is it okay if I…?" Once he'd nodded, I shifted to sit on the floor in front of him, deeming it not a good idea to make him sit up again any time soon. "Tell me if this is too painful."

I was glad I was sitting on the ground. He wasn't healing well at all, and the wounds made my head spin. He was pale too, his lips white as he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to lift his head off of the couch without losing consciousness. "Gar...I'm not good," he mumbled, slurring his words a little.

"I know, baby," I murmured back, kissing the back of his fingers. It must have been hurting him, the antiseptic cream at the very least, but I didn't think he was complaining about the pain. "With Alistair...were you okay with that? Was it consensual?"

He swallowed. "I just wanted him to stay with me, I never told him no."

"But you didn't want it," I pressed. Somehow, the colour washed even further out of his cheeks, and I quickly pressed the back of my hand against his forehead, hoping the change in temperature might help him stay focused.

"Gonna be sick," he warned me weakly. He was too dazed to even lift his hand out of my lap, and I was sure that vomiting was the least of his problems.

"I think you're going to faint, Carlisle, take some deep breaths," I soothed, trying not to panic myself. "It's okay." It wasn't. This whole situation wasn't. I had half a mind to call an ambulance while he was out, but I didn't want him to freak out once he was awake again. Instead, I took the opportunity to quickly finish the bandaging, fixing a pillow under his head and pulling the blanket out of his grasp to spread over him.

It was a few minutes before he was coherent again, and even then, coherent was a stretch of the word. His hand drifted to fidget with the blanket, brushing his fingers over the fabric, trying to figure out what was going on. His sudden attempt to sit up resulted in his stomach heaving, his hand clamping over his mouth as he tried to control it. I grabbed the closest thing to me to hold in front of him, my hand on his shoulder to hold him steady as he gagged again. He couldn't bring anything up, but that didn't ease the strain it put on his body. "Lie down, Carlisle," I murmured.

"I'm gonna puke," he groaned again, more embarrassed than anything else this time.

"I can deal, just lie down." I kept touching him, rubbing his shoulder, my fingers in his hair when he turned his face into his arm, mostly just because I didn't want to lose the opportunity while I had it. Alistair was right; I was taking advantage. It made me feel like shit. "Can I do anything to make you feel better?" I asked helplessly, partly wanting to give him the opportunity to tell me to fuck off.

He hesitated, focused on breathing for a few minutes. "Please don't leave me alone."

"I won't." I could keep that promise - the last thing I wanted was for him to be on his own. "I love you." Sighing, I turned to lean my back against the couch, almost jumping out of my skin when his arm came over my shoulder to wrap around my chest. It took everything I had not to give in to his touch. "This isn't a good idea, Carlisle." I still couldn't stop myself grabbing hold of him, rubbing his forearm and trying not to cringe at the bandaging under my fingertips.

"I know," he admitted. His hand had frozen against my shirt, his fingers intertwined in the fabric. He still didn't let go, though.

"You said yourself that you didn't want to be in a relationship with me," I reminded him. The words were bitter in my mouth, but they were true all the same.

"I know," he repeated, this time in a whisper.

We sat in silence for a while, my mind unable to drop my earlier conversation with Alistair. I was growing to hate that man. "Did you and Al really go out for dinner?"

I hadn't expected him to laugh, but that's what came out. He looked vaguely entertained when I glanced over my shoulder to see what was so funny. "Garrett, I'd overdosed and lost a lot of blood; we didn't go out to dinner."

"He told me you did," I grumbled bitterly.

He rolled his eyes. "We went and got take-out, that's all."

I threaded my fingers through his, my thumb teasing the back of his hand as we sat there together, silent. The next time I glanced up at him, he'd fallen back into a painkiller induced sleep. "Carlisle?" I whispered, testing just how unconscious he was. Upon not getting any response, I carefully untangled myself from him, watching to see if it disturbed him. It didn't seem to.

I wasn't sure what to do with him. He was such a wreck; I couldn't leave him again. I also didn't think he was anywhere close to forgiving me, despite the way he seemingly craved my company - it made sense that he was frightened to be alone after everything he'd been through. If the dizziness was as persistent as it seemed to be, I had no doubt that he'd been struggling on his own. And he was exhausted - he didn't sleep well alone either. Technically, technically, I had to stay. Or so I kidded myself.

.

.

A shower was supposed to help me clear my head. Except I'd done little more than tear my shirt over my head and drop my pants to the ground before I'd caught sight of the packet on the bench, suddenly furious. I stormed back into the longue, launching it at his chest as the sound of the door hitting the wall as I flung it open startled him awake. "What the fuck, Carlisle?" I demanded. "You're complaining that you're dizzy, but you're doing this to yourself? Are you stupid?"

Still pale, he pushed himself up the couch on his elbows, glancing down at the box in confusion. "It's sevredol?" he asked, his eyes on my face as he tried to figure out what the hell I was yelling at him for. "It's a painkiller? I had surgery?" His statements turned up at the ends, more questions than anything else.

"It's a morphine tablet, you moron - your surgery was weeks ago; your pain can't still be that bad, for god's sake." I knew I was being mean, but it had scared me; I was pretty sure that this was what he'd hurt himself with in the first place. "Why can't you take tylenol?"

Heat crept into his cheeks, but he tried to pretend it wasn't happening. "I am, Garrett. I'm not taking it all the time, just when it's unbearable. The doctor wouldn't have given it to me if I wasn't supposed to take it." Getting annoyed with me, he defensively crossed his arms, half protecting his stomach and half trying to box me out.

"Yeah, well, your doctor doesn't know that you tried to hurt yourself," I reminded him harshly.

"What do you want me to do? It's not healing properly, and it really hurts. Why do you care so much?" he whined to me.

"Stop taking them!" I exploded. "You're complaining that you're nauseous, but you're swallowing morphine every day. Do you want an addiction on top of everything?"

"It's not every day- fuck off, Garrett, it hurts. I'm not healing properly." Apparently done with me, he lay back down, weakly throwing the box of pills back at me.

"I know; your arms look like shit," I seethed. "You're obviously incapable of looking after yourself. Show me?"

He shoved my hand off of him when I tried to touch him, glaring at me. "Go and have a shower; leave me alone."

I rolled my eyes. "You spent all morning begging me not to leave you alone."

"You weren't shouting at me then!" He wasn't far from crying again.

I didn't want to do that to him. Instead, I dragged my fingers through my hair, the pain in my scalp distracting me enough to calm down. "I love you, Carlisle."

He folded his arms across his face. "I don't feel like you do."

A sigh hissed between my teeth as the fight drained out of me, and I watched as he sunk down into the cushions, fidgeting with the tv remote despite the screen being off. "I do. I promise you that I do. All of this is just freaking me out; I'm scared for you, and you're stressing me out." I was suddenly self conscious, coming to terms with having berated him in nothing but my underwear. "I, um, sorry." Feeling the heat in my face burn down my neck, I retreated back to the bathroom.

I'd accidently left the water running, and it had gone cold by the time I stepped under it. I let it run over my shoulders anyway. We weren't going to survive if I kept attacking him like that. It didn't change the fact that he couldn't be trusted with pills though - we were going to have to work something out.

Carlisle still hadn't moved from his spot on the couch when I got out to him, except he'd rolled onto his side, his temple pressed against his bicep in place of the pillow and his knees drawn closer to his chest. The blanket was still twisted around him and he looked semi-comfortable, so I left him alone. "Garrett?" he asked suddenly.

"Hmm?" I pretend to be far more interested in making myself a cup of coffee, assuming that he was going to ask for one as well. At least I could manage that without fucking up.

"Do you want me to move out?" he said bluntly.

I choked, my heart dropping through my stomach. "God, no, what are you talking about? Fuck." That was the last thing I wanted. For him to go. I was sure I would never see him again if he did. "What got that idea in your head?"

"You're mad at me for things I can't take back, and if I'm that stressful, maybe I should just go somewhere else."

"You're considering moving to Georgia," I groaned, my fingers growing cold. "You're going to give in to him."

He shook his head. "No. I mean I...if I go back to the UK, things will be easier for me, and…" His voice was quiet, and he couldn't make eye contact, lying.

"And how do you think you're going to even get there by yourself when you've been stuck in that seat for the past few hours because you tried to walk down the hallway?" I demanded. "What are you really going to do, because I don't believe that for a second."

Quiet, he just picked at the loose threads on the couch, forcing himself to sit up so he was no longer completely at my mercy.

"Carlisle."

He wouldn't even look at me now, retreating back to wherever he went when he shut down.

"Carlisle."

This time when he didn't respond, I sat down next to him, preparing myself for rejection as I reached for his hand. "I don't want you to move; I don't know what I'd do if you were gone," I admitted, trying not to choke on the lump in my throat. "Are you...uh, are you still taking your antidepressants?"

"Yeah," he answered softly. He let me take his hand.

"But they're not working for you, huh?" The breath I let out shook, my vision blurring as my eyes stung. I was going to fucking cry. "God, come here. I love you, I love you so much." Giving in to what I wanted to do so badly, I coiled my arms around him.

He didn't resist, going easily into my chest. "I just want things to go back to how they were," he whispered into my shirt. "I thought things could actually get better for a while there. It didn't matter if I was sick."

I kissed the base of his neck, resting my cheek on his shoulder to hide that I really couldn't keep it together any longer. "I'm sorry I fucked that up for us."

His hand bunched around the back of my shirt as he heard my voice shake. "I miss you." His other hand drifted to knot in my hair, not quite pulling, but firm against the nape of my neck.

"I miss you too."

.

.