dewphomet - Tumblr blog

dewphomet · 13 days ago

Text

Tenth Drink Free- Chapter 4- Exclamation Point (!)

It's been a while, huh. Burnout and fatigue are the evil twins keeping me from doing the things I like. And yet I stand before you, cupping this chapter in weary hands after laboring over this like a 10 pound baby. I birthed this chapter. And I will birth another. Specifically six more. Lots of emotional turmoil in this one too. Not as much as last time though!!! Dew's getting better!!!

WC: 3923

Warnings: Smoking, addiction, medical emergencies

Read below or on ao3!

Taglist: @skele-bunny @rain-loves-scallops @dewphomet @0-miles-away

It takes three days for Dew to recover.

The first day is spent in bed with a heating pad and snacks that he convinced Rain to deliver to his room. He plays video games, re-strings his guitar, practices for a few hours, and orders takeout for dinner. He and Rain eat together- a rare occurrence for them.

“Okay. New Vegas.” Rain prompts, spearing a shrimp on his fork. “How do you like it?”

“It’s fun. I made my character gay. Didn’t know that was an option.” Dew picks at his ravioli. “I left off at that factory with all the ghouls.”

“Ah, yeah.” Rain nods. “The flamethrower’s pretty effective on the feral ones.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Dew scours his brain for conversation topics- what did people talk about over dinner? He flips through his options and settles on one.

“Uh- how’s class going?” Dew asks after a brief pause in the conversation. Rain heaves a dramatic sigh.

“Hard… Midterms just passed so we get a quick reprieve but I’ve got chem tomorrow and the teacher always gives so much homework…” Rain sighs again. “I don’t even need to know about chemistry. I’m studying fucking software engineering. What am I gonna do, test the pH of a chunk of code?”

Dew smiles slightly and sits back in his chair. He lets Rain complain until he runs out of steam.

After dinner the two of them put on a documentary on octopi (or octopodes, as the narrator makes clear). Rain taps away on his laptop and Dew plays with a fidget toy stolen from Rain.

It’s a nice evening, even with his cramps. Dew dozes off sometime in the middle of the documentary and wakes up draped in a blanket. He wanders back to his room and falls back asleep.

The second day is mostly the same, except for a setting change to the couch. Dew mopes around, naps, complains loudly about his cramps, and watches trashy reality tv. He has to admit, he feels a little better.

The nicotine cravings hit hard around 2 in the afternoon so he drags himself off the couch and trudges outside in his warmest hoodie.

Dew makes his way down the stairs and around to the back of the building. His lighter clicks uselessly as he thumbs the flint wheel.

“Come on…” He mutters around his unlit cig. A weak flame finally flickers to life and he shields it with his hand as he brings it up to his mouth.

The first drag almost makes him groan with relief. He pockets his lighter and leans back against the wall, his eyes closed.

“Fuck…” Dew mumbles, smoke streaming from his lips and nose. A wad of emotions builds in his throat and he takes a shaky breath. “Fuck…”

A rustling sound nearby pulls him from his spiral of self-loathing. Dew jumps and looks over at the source of the noise.

A fat raccoon ambles out from behind a dumpster, making its way toward a fast food bag on the other side of the alley. Dew watches it pull apart the soggy paper with its little hands and rummage through the trash inside. It finds a lone fry inside and sits up to cram it into its mouth.

Dew reaches slowly into the pocket of his sweats for his phone, only to find he’d left it in his room. He lets out a huff of frustration out of his nose and takes another drag. The raccoon tears open the bag further and finds more food. It shoves its head inside, pushing the bag across the ground.

Dew lets out a little snort of amusement. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to a raccoon before. The little bastards are a nuisance, but at least they’re cute.

The raccoon pulls itself out of the bag with a small ice cream cup clutched in its paws. It gleefully laps at the remnants inside. Dew leans back against the wall to watch.

The raccoon removes its head from the cup. Melted ice cream is smeared on the top of its ears. It shakes its head and goes back to rummaging in the bag.

Dew watches the creature until it wanders off around the corner. He raises his cig to his mouth only to realize it’s burned down to the filter in the time he’s been watching the raccoon.

He sighs, stubs it out on the wall, and tosses it into the dumpster. He’s running low and doesn’t feel like lighting up another. The few puffs he’s taken will have to do for now.

It’d be cheaper to quit, his brain offers. $9 a pack, a pack and a half a week, that’s gotta be like $50 a month.

The voice has a point, as much as Dew hates to think it. Money is already tight. He contemplates this as he climbs the stairs back up to the apartment.

The third day is better. Dew decides to attempt some self-care. Real self-care, not just lazily jerking off and falling asleep.

So he follows the advice of some blog post he found. He gets his favorite snacks from the convenience store, puts his phone on do not disturb, steals borrows one of Rain’s face masks, and draws a bath.

As it turns out, Dew is NOT a bath person. The tub is too small for him to submerge and stretch out comfortably and he can’t find a position that doesn’t make his tailbone hurt. He lasts ten minutes before he drags himself out of the tub and dries off. The face mask is starting to feel weird on his face so he peels it off with a grimace.

Plan B, then. Dew makes a nest of pillows and plushies on his bed and settles in with snacks and a tv show he’d been meaning to watch. It’s cozy.

He doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but when he wakes up it’s dark outside. Wind blows past his window and makes the trees rustle.

“Ouuuuughhh…” Dew groans and stretches. It’s a good stretch, one that leaves him relaxed and feeling like jello for a minute. He closes his eyes and contemplates going back to sleep. He’ll get up in a minute.

He didn’t mean to actually fall back asleep but when he opens his eyes again it’s much darker outside. Oops.

To his surprise, when he gets up he feels better. Not at 100%, but definitely better. Enough to cook something for dinner instead of heating up instant food.

Dinner ends up being scrambled eggs and toast loaded with peanut butter and cinnamon sugar, not bad for a midnight snack. He even washes the dishes afterwards before stepping out for a smoke.

He lights up but hesitates before he brings it to his lips. I should quit.

The itch in the back of his mind grows stronger as he stares at the glowing tip. Dew takes a drag and grits his teeth, blowing the smoke out of his nose like a dragon. He hates being dependent on anything.

He tosses the cigarette on the ground and steps on it before he can overthink it. He twists his boot, splitting the paper wrapping and grinding the tobacco into the dirty pavement.

Regret washes over him. I can’t do this. He reaches for his pack again, fumbles out another cig, and flicks his lighter. The little device clicks uselessly, mockingly even. The empty tank stares back at him. Dew throws it against the wall with a frustrated growl. He stomps on that too.

He takes a few steps back toward the stairs before he pauses, thinking of the raccoon. He backs up, scoops the lighter shards into his hand, and drops them in the dumpster. I’d hate for the little guy to get hurt.

Dew wakes up feeling… refreshed, he realizes. It’s an unfamiliar feeling. His eyes don’t feel dry and tired for once. He still feels that ever-present tightness in his shoulders and neck though and the itch in his spine. Better than nothing.

He lazes around in bed until he has to piss. His cramps are less painful today, thankfully.

He shoots a text to Cirrus while on the toilet-

—

Dew: i’m feeling better do you have a spot for me?

—

He changes his pad and brushes his hair and teeth while he waits for the reply.

—

Boss lady 2: How much sleep did you get?

Dew: what are you, a cop?

Boss lady 2: Answer the question

—

Dew glances at the time- 11 AM- and resigns himself to some basic math. Damn, it’s been a while since high school…

—

Dew: 9 hours

Dew: just woke up

Boss lady 2: Can you come in @ 1? Got a 4 hour shift for you

Dew: Yep

Dew: See you then

—

He eyes the shower and ultimately decides to blast his scalp with dry shampoo instead. The wet box can wait. He throws his hair in a braid and calls it good.

Dew’s breakfast consists of two cheese sticks and a Coke. He leaves a note for Rain requesting a grocery run soon and gets dressed. He forgoes eyeliner today and packs his backpack.

He steps out for a smoke out of habit. He’s halfway down the stairs when he hears a rattling from the alley. Two raccoons emerge from an overturned trash can. Dew remembers his broken lighter. He sighs and looks at his nearly-empty pack.

”Fine.” He mutters, pointing at the creatures below. “You win for now.”

The raccoons don’t seem to care, instead preoccupied by hissing at each other over a chicken bone. Dew trudges up the stairs back to the apartment.

That doesn’t take away the cravings but it gives him reason to ignore them. Why he cares so much about a few critters in the alley he doesn’t know.

He sees the bastards again when he starts walking to work. He gives them a little wave.

”Good to see you, hun.” Cumulus greets him when he walks into the kitchen. “You mind working the ovens and sink today?”

”Not at all.” Dew is relieved that he won’t be subjected to customer service today.

”Thanks. There’s a batch of bagels cooling, could you take them out to the counter when the muffins come out of the oven?” She asks, plopping a bowl of dough out onto the countertop.

”Yes ma’am.” Dew gives her a two-finger salute, which she returns.

He’s happy to get back into the routine of scrubbing pans and moving baked goods around the kitchen. He puts in his earbuds and zones out. He even forgets his cravings for a bit.

He learns from Sunny- looking under the weather but still gleeful- that Aether is here. He brushes her off but that doesn’t stop him from idling behind the counter as he restocks the bagels. He sneaks a glance at Aether- god, he’s gorgeous- and tucks the empty tray against his hip to bring back to the kitchen. He tries to sidestep Aeon at the register but they grab his arm.

“Hey…” Aeon mumbles. They look pale, their fingertips deathly cold against Dew’s skin. “Need…”

Then their eyes flutter closed and they fall forward. Dew yelps and drops his tray to catch them, lowering them to the floor carefully. The metal tray clatters to the linoleum, drawing startled eyes from the cafe’s patrons.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Dew mutters. A worried murmur spreads through the shop as people crane their necks over the counter to investigate.

Cumulus pokes her head out of the kitchen and gasps. “What happened?”

“I don’t know!” Dew replies a bit louder than he’d meant to. “They just- passed out, I think…” He looks down at Aeon, who thankfully seems to be stirring.

“Let me through!” Aether’s voice rings out over the worried chatter and Dew looks up just in time to see him vault over the counter. He immediately zeroes in on Aeon and kneels next to them. “Did he hit his head?”

Dew takes a moment to realize Aether is talking to him. “No- they fell on me first and I lowered them down.”

“Good. Get some water and something sugary.” Aether tells him. Dew nods and scurries into the kitchen.

When he returns with Aeon’s water bottle and a sucker from Cumulus’s candy stash, Aeon is sitting up against the wall with their eyes closed. Dew awkwardly holds out the water bottle and Aether takes it with a grateful nod.

“Are they okay?” Dew asks cautiously. Aether nods again.

“For now, yeah. I definitely recommend they go to the ER or at least urgent care to get checked out fully. I can only do so much right now.” Aether steadies Aeon’s hands to help them drink.

“I w-wanna go hom-me.” Aeon mumbles. “I’ll be okay, this just hap-pens sometimes-s.”

“How often?” Aether asks, his brow furrowing a little bit more. “If this is a frequent thing, you definitely need to see a doctor.”

“M fine.” Aeon snaps and immediately shrinks back into themself. “S-sorry. I gotta f-finish my shift.”

“Uh-uh.” Cumulus shakes her head, her fluffy ponytail bouncing. “I’ll pay you for the rest of your shift, hun. You go get checked out.”

“I don’t w-wanna.” Aeon mumbles. “I can’t- don’t-nt make me go. Ple-ase.”

Dew recognizes the look in their eyes. The fear of a cornered animal. He sits down next to them.

“Aeon.” He whispers softly so only they can hear. “If you don’t go talk to a doctor about this, it’ll only get worse. I care about you.”

“It’s-s expensive.” Aeon whispers back. “A-and it sm-mells weird a-and there are n-no wind-w-winds-“ They grit their teeth. “Win-dows. And the nurses m-make fun of my-y stutt-ter.”

“I’ll come with you.” Dew decides on the spot. “I’ll say I’m your brother or something so they’ll let me stay with you.”

“You promise?” Aeon asks. “How’re w-we gonna get the-there?”

“I’ll drive you.” Aether offers. “I don’t have anything to do today. May as well help you out.”

Aeon side-eyes Aether before their eyes flick back to Dew. “You’ll stay?”

“Promise.” Dew nods. “I’ll get your backpack.”

“I’ll be out front when you two are ready.” Aether stands up, giving Dew a chance to glance at his thighs. Damn. “Be careful standing up.”

Dew scampers into the back and retrieves Aeon’s purple backpack. Aeon takes it gratefully, digs through it for a minute, and produces a small plush bat.

“Ready-y.” They clutch the bat to their chest and grab Dew’s hand. With only a bit of struggling, they’re standing.

The walk to the car is mercifully quick, with Aeon hiding their face in Dew’s shoulder to avoid stares. Sure enough, Aether’s car is idling outside- a nondescript gray SUV. Dew pops the back door and helps Aeon inside, then tosses in their backpack and climbs in next to them.

Aether glances at them in the rearview mirror. “The hospital I work at is about fifteen minutes away. There’s probably a bag back there if you need to hurl.”

“Thanks.” Aeon replies weakly and pulls their knees up to their chest after buckling in. They rest their chin on their bat and stare out the window as Aether pulls into the street.

Dew tips his head back against the seat and sighs through his nose. He realizes he’s left his own backpack at Cloudy Skies and grinds his teeth. He just hopes they’ll get out of the ER by closing time. He has his phone and wallet in his pockets. No keys, no jacket, no cigs. In a stranger’s car, taking his friend to the ER. He just wishes he’d brought his earbuds.

Quiet rock music drifts from Aether’s car speaker. Dew wants to ask about his music taste but it doesn’t seem like an appropriate time. It sounds like pop punk, a song Dew hasn’t heard.

He takes the time to look around Aether’s car while they’re driving. There’s a guitar-shaped air freshener and a motel-style keychain hanging from the rearview. A few rubber ducks sit on the dashboard and Dew can spot some textbooks on the passenger seat with Aether’s bag. The car smells faintly of vanilla and lemon.

Dew reaches over the middle seat and offers Aeon his hand. They take it and squeeze hard.

Check-in is quick with Aether’s help. They’re given a wait time of an hour and pointed to the waiting room. Dew lets himself hope that the visit will be quick. This turns out to be a grave miscalculation.

Dew shifts in his chair for the umpteenth time and looks at his phone again. The ER’s waiting room is fairly empty but they’ve been waiting for almost three hours. Aeon is curled up on the seat of a wide chair, presumably trying to nap.

Aether is on Dew’s other side reading a book. From what Dew’s been able to peek at, it seems like some kind of supernatural thriller. Dew doesn’t read much but he stores the title of the book away in his brain for safekeeping. Maybe he can turn it into a conversation if he works up the courage.

By the grace of some merciful deity, Aeon’s name is called. They unfold themself from the chair and clutch their bat to their chest.

“Want me to come with?” Dew asks. Aeon nods. Dew stands, stretches his legs, and slings their bag over his shoulder. A tired-looking nurse guides the two of them to an exam room and leaves them with an assurance that a doctor will be in soon.

“I don’t like-ike it here,” Aeon mumbles. They pull their knees up to their chest and stare at the wall through a curtain of shaggy bangs.

“Me neither.” Dew sighs. He stretches out his legs and sighs again. The fluorescent lights hum above them like a swarm of flies.

It takes too long for another nurse to show up, then a doctor, then a swarm of nurses taking blood and hooking Aeon up to some kind of machine. Dew holds their hand and tries his best to not zone out entirely.

Finally, Aeon is discharged with a stack of papers, a referral to a heart specialist, and an equally exhausted Dew.

“Home.” Aeon signs, chewing on the wing of their bat. Dew sighs and nods.

“Yeah. Let’s go home. Aether said he’d wait for us but I can call an Uber if he left already.” Dew pulls out his phone and checks the time. Six hours since they’d walked into the ER. It feels like double that.

“Mmm!” Aeon mumbles, pointing to Dew’s left. Dew is relieved to see Aether hurrying toward them.

“How’re you two holding up?” Aether asks, his brow furrowed adorably.

“Tired.” Dew replies at the same time that Aeon signs, “Like shit.”

“Hungry?” Aether asks. “I can stop for food if you want.”

Dew is hungry, but he looks to Aeon for an answer. They shake their head no.

“Alright.” Aether twirls his keys around his finger. “Let’s go.”

Aeon and Dew climb into the backseat again. Aeon curls up with their bat, clutching the discharge papers with their free hand. Dew stares out the window absently.

He snaps out of it when Aeon nudges his arm. “Hm? Oh-“ He opens the door and slips out to let Aeon out onto the sidewalk. He waves goodbye and watches Aeon disappear into their apartment building. He hopes they’ll be okay.

“You alright?” Aether asks once he gets back in. Dew looks up to see him looking at him through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah.” Dew’s jaw aches from how he’s been grinding his teeth. I need a smoke.

“Okay.” Aether doesn’t sound convinced. “Are you hungry?” he asks, meeting Dew’s eyes in the rearview mirror. Dew hesitates.

“I don’t have money.” He semi-mumbles, glancing away. He hates letting people know that he’s broke. They always look at him in a pitying, condescending way. It makes him sick.

“You can’t eat money.” Aether taps on the steering wheel with his fingertips. “It’s on me.”

“You don’t have to. You’ve done enough to help me and Aeon today.” Dew crosses his arms and stares down Aether in the mirror.

“Alright.” Aether shrugs, puts the car in gear, and pulls out into the street. “Where should I drop you?”

“Back at Cloudy Skies. I left my backpack there.” Dew uncrosses his arms, pleased that he’d won. “...I appreciate the offer, though.”

“Don’t mention it.” Aether makes a dismissive gesture like shooing away a fly with two fingers. Dew turns his attention back to his phone. It’s almost dead, so he texts the work chat an update and asks to be let into the building.

Cirrus meets him at the back door with his backpack. “Take care, Dew.”

”I will.” He promises. He means it this time.

Dew waves goodbye to Cirrus and drags his weary feet in the direction of home.

“Extra shift?” Rain asks when Dew kicks the front door open. He heaves a tired sigh and shakes his head. Rain is fully occupying the kitchen table with some sort of project involving some kind of helmet, wires, a soldering iron, and various other mechanical bits.

“Aeon fainted. I took ‘em to the ER.” Dew grunts. He tries to untie his boots with freezing fingers. “Ow- fuck-”

“Did you walk them there?” Rain raises a thin eyebrow over his safety glasses. Dew shakes his head and finally gets his boot off.

“Aether- hot guy- drove us.” He picks at the laces of his other boot now. “Drove us back too.”

Rain’s other eyebrow joins the first near his hairline. “You and Aeon got into his car without even knowing him?”

“He’s in nursing school. And he’s really nice. He offered to buy me food.” Dew wriggles his foot out of his remaining boot. “I think you listen to too many true crime podcasts.”

“I’m not paranoid, I’m cautiously aware.” Rain adjusts something with tweezers. “Never go to a second location”

“You are paranoid.” Dew huffs. He plops his backpack down by his boots. “Whatcha working on?”

“Rigging up this LED mask for a friend.” Rain holds up the mask as Dew gets closer to show the inside, covered in a grid of tiny lights. “I’m attaching a little computer so I can program different patterns into it.”

Dew gently takes the mask. From the outside it looks like smooth, black plastic that covers the wearer’s face. “Cool.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty proud of it.” Rain grins. There’s something slightly off about his expression. He’s hiding something. Dew decides it’s not worth poking his nose into.

He microwaves a cup of ramen and retreats to his room with it. As soon as he sits down in his desk chair his body reminds him of just how exhausted he is. He sets his dinner on the desk and lets himself go limp with a groan. This results in him oozing out of his chair like a bag of wet meat. Ugh.

After a minute of laying on the floor, his hunger overpowers his fatigue and Dew is forced to drag himself back up into the chair. The noodles are gone in what seems like seconds.

He yawns and automatically reaches for his cigarettes. Then pauses. He’s tired enough to sleep through the cravings tonight. He can have one in the morning, he promises himself.

Dew buries the cigs in the back of his drawer with the journal pages and crawls into bed. He’s asleep as soon as his eyes close.

(comments and kudos keep me going)

(tip jar)

#Yees been thinking about this au for a while now. so happy rn!#guuh I love them sm #poor Aeon :( hope he gets better #also Dew and the raccons was adorable my goodness #and love Aeth immediately going to help #keep it up op! no rush!#dewther #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #phantom ghoul #the band ghost

19 notes · View notes