#drinking as coping mechanism

[epicthemusical]

Thoughts/HC for Perimedes and Elpenor

WARNING ABUSIVE PARENTS AND UNHEALTHY COPING MECHANISMS

a lot of this was inspired from this fic series and this Tumblr user so check both of them out!

@amazingmsme

Now as the two youngest crew members they are definitely effected a lot more by the war. They have just barely considered men when they leave. One thing they both have in common is they don't know what it is like to actually have a father(will explain later)

Past/home life:

Okay so for Perimedes he is an only child with abusive parents. His parents used to show how much they loved each other but the marriage went downhill and now all the do is argue. The parents often yell and hit him in their anger. Perimedes had to learn to take care of himself and not depend on anyone else. He also learned that love is something toxic and should be avoided. Caring for someone leads to getting hurt.

Now for Elpenor. Elpenor is the oldest of 3 the other two being twin sisters and toddlers when he leaves. He grew up without a father for majority of his life since his dad died early in his life. As the only guy left in the family he teaches himself to hide any of his pain from others because he felt he had to take care of the family in his father's place.

Interactions with the crew

Perimedes keeps his distance emotionally from everyone on the crew. Nobody manages to get through his high walls he has built. The first person to find their way inside his walls is Elpenor. He doesn't know how they did it maybe it was the feeling of being needed,to be relied on. Maybe it was the fact they are the youngest on the crew and similar ages. Maybe it's his smiles and laughter that made Perimedes feel happier and lighter. Whatever it was it terrified him. Eventually another person manages to make it through his walls, Polites. He doesn't know how he feels about Polites. It's different than he feels with Elpenor. He learns to look up to Polites and is the person he goes to with his issues and looks to him for guidance. Polites helps teach him about life and how to do things ranging from how to sail a ship to the aftermath of his first kill. It isn't till after Polites dies that he realizes that he had seen Polites as a father figure or at least what a father SHOULD have been. The pain from his death enforces the idea he has that caring about someone leads to being hurt and he pushes away Elpenor scared of how much Polites death hurt him. When Elpenor dies at Circe island he doesn't notice still determined to avoid him so when he sees Elpenor in the Underworld Perimedes feels so guilty over not being there for him.He decides then and there to never love anyone or anything other than himself ever again.

Elpenor had two masks he puts on for the crew at first. The first mask tries to show how mature and dependable he is because that's all he knows from home. Eventually he realizes that as the youngest he doesn't have to be dependable, that nobody needs to rely on him and it feels freeing. However after he gets rid of the first mask he has a second one that hides any of his pain behind pranks, smiles, and laughter. He still can't bring himself to show his issues to the crew. He sees Perimedes and how detached he is and is determined to become his friend. It takes a lot of time but he is so happy that his efforts finally pay off and they become close friends. Just like Perimedes he looks up to Polites as his father figure. The only two of the crew he lets his second mask drop around is Perimedes and Polites. He never really understood why some of the crew turns to alcohol as he never liked it himself preferring to talk out his issues with the two people he trusts. But then Polites dies and it hurts to lose his father figure. After that Perimedes turns colder and pushes him away leaving him alone. The two people he trusted and kept close are no longer there for him. After watching all the men die to Poseidon he has a lot of nightmares and by the time they arrive at Circe island the nightmares along with the fact Perimedes is still keeping his distance he decides to turn to alcohol for the first time. He sits up on the roof looking up at the sky. He drinks and drinks hoping it will make him forget, that it will dull the pain. Before long he can't think just like he wanted. Everything seems so far away when he accidentally walks off the roof. He sees the crew from the banks of the river in the underworld as he calls out to Perimedes all he can say is his last thoughts.

I died and nobody noticed...

I died and nobody cared...

[isamajor]

June of Doom : day 6 to 10

More @juneofdoom's drabble with Skyrim Custom-voiced Followers ! :D

6 . “They don’t care about you.”  

Lucien woke abruptly, drenched in sweat. Panic clawed at his chest to the realization of having been left alone here. What if they didn't come back? What if they saw this as a chance to leave him behind, a burden no longer? Trembling, he got out of his stone bed with great difficulty, throwing himsef on his research notes and clutching them like a lifeline.

"They wouldn't... they promised...", he whispered. The Dragonborn, Inigo and the others wouldn't abandon him, right?

"They won't come back, but I am here, Master Flavius." replied the metallic voice of Dumbzthar. (101)

•

7 . “What happened?”   

Nebarra stumbled through the camp, reeking of alcohol. His companions watched with growing worry as he swayed, clutching a nearly empty bottle. The memories of the War were haunting his every waking moment and every nightmare-filled sleep. He tried to drown them, but the liquor only fueled his isolation. A part of him has remained in the Alik'r desert, with the rotting corpses of his comrades and enemies under the blazing sun. He was lost in the past, in the screams and the blood and the relentless guilt.

"I don't need your pity.", he slurred, when he met Xelzaz's concerned gaze. (105)

•

8 . “This is your last chance.”   

Taliesin gasped for breath, tied tightly to a chair, water dripping from his hair and clothes. His heart pounded in his chest. Taliesin's intense fear of water made every moment the worst possible nightmare. The Thalmor torturer loomed over him.

“This is your last chance.”, the torturer hissed.

The chair was tilted back, submerging Taliesin's in the water. Panic surged through him as he struggled, the bindings cutting into his skin. Taliesin's screams were muffled by the water. Just as he was about to black out, he was pulled up.

"Talk." , the torturer demanded.

Trembling all over, he shook his head in refusal. (105)

•

9 . “I made a mistake.” 

They were surrounded by a horde of skeletons and the Dragonborn remembered that they had something that could be useful : as they unfolded the experimental scrolls provided by J'Zargo, a surge of excitement coursed through them. But relief turned to horror as the magical energy spiraled out of control, engulfing Inigo in the explosion. Writhing in agony, the khajiit's fur charred and skin blistered from the intense heat. Kaidan's eyes narrowed accusingly at the Dragonborn, his voice laced with anger.

"This is why we can't trust magic.", he spat harshly, as everyone rushed to Inigo's aid. (101)

•

10 . “Can you hear me?” 

The smell of smoke was acrid and overpowering. As the flames danced wildly in the pyre, smoke saturated the air, triggering a haunting memory for Auri. Frozen in place, her breath caught in her throat, she stared at the flames with wide eyes, as if without seeing them, lost in the suffocating grip of the past.

“Auri, can you hear me?”

Remiel's gentle touch shattered the horrible vision of the burning forest. Auri blinked, haggard, on the verge of tears. She threw herself into Remiel's arms who gently took her away from the source of what had rekindled her trauma. (100)

[bunnirabbits]

not sure if i want nanami to be a super experienced older man who will take the reigns in bed straight away, or a poor, overworked soul who’s never gotten the chance to lose his virginity so i can hold his hand and stare lovingly into his eyes as he cums inside a woman for the first time.

[cinnamonsikwate]

"why couldn't shuro have just been honest about what he felt with laios and falin it's not that hard" are you. are you White

[forestshadow-wolf]

Cw: implied homophobia, drinking and smoking as coping mechanisms, angst

Part 1 || Part 2

Soap was always so put together. Ghost always admired that, just a bit.

Which is why is was so shocking to see soap drunk off his ass, alone in the rec room, in the small hours of the night.

Ok, saying he was drunk off his ass was an overstatement, but he was clearly a bit further than buzzed. Didn't even acknowledge ghost when he walked, just continued idly running his finger around the rim of his glass, staring sightlessly into the amber liquid. Where he even got the bottle of scotch was a question ghost didn't bother to think on.

Ghost took it upon himself to situate himself next to soap, pressing his thigh into the scot's.

"How much have you had, Johnny?" He asked softly, something colored his voice that he didn't wish to look deeper into — that's why they worked. Soap toed the line between too much, and ghost let him, laughing it off when it circled too close, and soap always followed.

"Enough. I should pack it up." Soap said equally soft, solem, but he made no move to do so, simply continuing to cradle the glass between his hands. — so that's it, huh. That's how he stays so composed. He's self-aware. Maybe too much for his own good.

Soap pulled the cup up to his lips to take a sip of the warm liquid. Ghost's hands gently guided the glass out of his hands before it reached its destination. Soap let it happen. He still hadn't even glanced at ghost, and he was being unusually quiet. Ghost didn't like it.

They sat in silence for a moment.

Or ghost thought they did. Then a moment later he hears the flick of a lighter, and he turns his head to see soap lighting up a cigarette. Simon frowns behind his mask. Soap takes a delicate pull off the cigarette, and lets the smoke steam out of his mouth slowly. Still, it's like he's looking anywhere but ghost. It's like he's looking through ghost. Ghost sighs — he doesn't like this johnny. — his fingers automatically itch for a cigarette of his own, his body so used to sharing one with the man beside him. He doesn't. There's no real need for one at the moment, just a desire to share something.

"Tell me?" Ghost offers. It's gruff, and hardly sounds like a question at all, but an offer all the same.

Soap doesn't answer. He's eerily quiet. The only sound is their breathing, and the occasional pull of the one lone cigarette.

It's quiet for a long time. Ghost doesn't force anything, just sits with him. Then–

"My da's dyin'." It's small, quiet, as if saying it too loud will shatter whatever's in the air between them. "I should take some leave, be there... but... I won't." The cigarette's almost burned down to the but now. He takes one last drag off it, then snubs it out.

Simon stays quiet, letting johnny think, it's not his place to speak. It's not what Johnny needs right now.

"He'd be furious, I think. He'd tell me to go to hell, maybe in a few more words." Johnny chuckled darkly. "Mum will be devastated if I don't go. And my sisters will never forgive me if I'm not there — mum will though, she's too kind — but... I can't go." He said wistfully, the words come out slow — it's probably the alcohol — he spoke like he didn't know how to stop the words from coming out, and wasn't sure if he even wanted to stop them.

"Why not?" Simon prompted gently, he could almost see the words burning a hole in Johnny's throat.

"We can forget about this come morning, act like this never happened." Soap answered instead, like the words were stuck, but still seared with a need to come out. Or maybe it was the alcohol making him hare-brained

"Johnny..." It was soft, too soft. Soap laid his head on his arms and began tracing formless shaped on the table with his finger.

"... haven't seen him in over a decade, and he was so... angry then. He caught me an- an a boy..." the words seemed to get caught in his throat. "Barely even let me pack my bags before shipping me off. He was so nice before... before he knew. He was so amazing. I always thought I'd be like him when I grew up." Johnny's eyes were wet now, instead of the eerie dryness from before, but that's all it was, no tears. "I should see him one more time for that at least... but I won't. I-..."

"Johnny." Ghost felt like he was intruding, he was seeing something he wasn't meant to see. But johnny plowed on.

"I-... but I don't think I can- that- that I'll-... I don't know h-how I'll survive if- if he tells me to- to go to hell or- or t-to get dead again. I can't- I can't do it again." Johnny's voice shook as he spoke, and the words seemed to trip and stumble uneloquently from his lips.

He seemed to burn out after that, and it was so quiet, like they'd gotten sucked into space. Or maybe it was just simon who was in space, and Johnny was cast adrift in the ocean. He didn't know.

"Lets get you to bed, Johnny." The words were gentle, pillowed in all the corners. Johnny let himself be guided easily, searching for any kind of life raft.

[nashvillethotchicken]

Thinking about Lestat seeing Louis’s eating patterns as a waste of his gift/himself while Armand gives Louis food that he literally can not enjoy or digest just so he has something on his stomach

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1086

Anon asked:

Need me some prompts for a really happy-go-lucky character who hides their traumas behind a witty remark and a cocky smile

Happy go-lucky is a trope I’ve modelled an OC on so:

Nothing appears to phase the character at first: even when it really should. 

When the Worst Stuff is revealed about their past, everyone is sat in horrified shock except your character, who passes the whole thing off as a funny story. The character shrugs and says ‘and I’m still alive so... I’ll drink to that.’

The ‘it is what it is’ mentality. Someone is mean to them? They’ve heard worse. They’re injured? ‘Not as bad as the last time.’ They’ve just witnessed something horrific? ‘Eh, at least no-one died in my arms this time.’

They’ve learnt to craft their backstory into something more humorous to reduce the impact it has on other people. 

“Hahah, well actually I’ve dealt with this before. It’s a funny story really, I was nearly executed for...”

Maybe one day they can’t hold it in anymore. That One Thing is enough to push them over the edge. Maybe they drink, maybe they do something else self destructive and it all comes out. There’s no cocky smile, there’s no joke; your character is being 100% real and It’s jarring for the caretakers... but also a relief that the trauma is finally being addressed. 

[venriliz]

why is the concept of showing empathy for drug/alcohol addicts so hard to understand for some ppl? v.v they suffer too sis, that problem has to come from somewhere and i bet most of them would rather not be addicted in the first place. some people don't know what nuance is i swear. am i crazy for having empathy with addicts??? i don't think so.

[nerosdayinanime]

At the end of the world or the last thing I see You are never coming home, never coming home Never coming home, never coming home And all the things that you never ever told me And all the smiles that are ever going to haunt me

Never coming home, Never coming home

[just-an-anxious-mess]

[p0rchc0ll4ps3]

Thinking about fucked up angst bw Harry and Jean. Headcanons for my au, warning for suicidal thoughts and the like

Anyways they were roommates and their old roommates kicked them out bc they were just way too much so they moved into a super tiny horrible apartment bc it was all they could afford bc Harry refuses to take bribes and he's busy doing his job instead of being a good corrupt cop like the rest of them. So he and Jean are sharing this super small one room apartment with only a gas stove in the corner as a kitchen and inevitably Jean reaches his limit with Harry and can't stand him anymore so he moves out and gets his own apartment and Harry can't handle it

Harry gets all aggressive and upset and fucked up over it and all the 'of course you'd leave, everyone always leaves me'

He tries killing himself one time and it doesn't work and he just starts to get worse and deeper in the hell and completely relapses

And then he just blows Jean off entirely like I don't need you I don't need anyone I'm god fuck you fuck you fuck you

And Jean has massive guilt and super upset about it bc he feels it's his fault for ditching Harry and causing him to spiral this hard but he's done with his bullshit he's had enough he's not going to deal with him anymore

And then Harry goes to Martinaise without Jean and he gets so fucking upset like he tries to get rid of the ledger and tries to quit and tries to kill himself with the car trying to drive himself into the sea

Harry's supposed to have died multiple times. With one time when he got shot, with the hanging, with the car crash, with the amnesia, with the time he gets shot with Kim, with the alcohol poisoning being so severe, but he just doesn't die

And Jean has all these guilt complexes bc yeah he did ditch Harry in the end and he did choose the selfish path of 'I have to survive so I have to leave him behind bc he's dragging me down' and yeah technically it is his fault Harry hung himself and Harry blew him off the case and all that but also Jean is like well actually no

I worked really hard to get you better. And you kept relapsing. And you never got better.

Even though I managed, and I thought you could manage coz you're my brother basically and you're like me, apparently you don't want to live and you're not strong enough and ok fine. If you won't listen then fine. See if I care. Go and fucking rot in hell

I'm done

And now Harry's forgotten him completely and his issues seem to have evaporated and what's more this new partner of his (who Jean really sees as a better cop) seems to be doing a way better job than Jean ever could at helping Harry

So it's gonna take a LOT to mend this whole thing even if Harry does remember. Bc basically Jean and Harry go from being REALLY close and fraternal and like I'll take care of you you'll take of me etc. having both survived horrendous traumatic shit together. To just this huge rift in their relationship bc Harry just cannot for the life of him get better. He cannot unstick himself out of his rut. He just wants to keep tearing himself apart

And Jean feels hugely guilty for leaving him behind but also he just can't stand him anymore AND ALSO it's a form of self harm that he destroy this relationship further, that he completely blow Harry off. Because he knows in his heart of hearts that the closeness and brotherhood they shared before was too good to be true. That he (Jean) will NEVER have anyone who understands him on that level again AND THAT even more so he does not and never will deserve closeness like that

So yeah. Jean is basically 'go fuck yourself. Go kill yourself. See if I care. I don't fucking care. I hate you.' <- said while caring way too fucking much

[arataka-reigen]

I cant focus enough to read anything lately and it is making me so depressed because last year i managed to beat my reading block, and this year i fell right back into it

[shootingstarpilot]

An Interlude on Melidaan

(Please check the tags for content warnings!)

Stitch is sitting with Helix when he gets the call.

Helix had woken up for just long enough to squint, recognize Stitch, mutter something about his head having been trampled by a herd of banthas, and pass out again- enough to reassure Stitch that the surgery had gone smoothly. He doesn't like it when any of them are out of commission, but it had been agreed that de-chipping the medics was a priority so they could facilitate removals of the rest of the 212th when they were underway again.

Helix had volunteered first, with an expression that forbade disagreement. Needle's in pre-op now, Stitch knows- he'd hugged him tight and had told him not to worry, and Stitch had nodded against his chest and had told him he was going to worry anyway because that's what you did for your brothers, and Needle's smile had gone all soft around the edges before he'd vanished down the hall.

Stitch has a very long list of things you do for your brothers, and the list grows longer by the day.

And right behind worrying for your brothers is going to them when they need you.

"Needle?"

He knocks once, twice, three times before a steady voice tells him to come in.

He does.

Needle is sitting on the edge of the gurney, pale-faced, hands clutching the blanket under him so tightly his knuckles are turning white. Another person- Stitch had seen her at Jess's side, but had missed her name- is standing a safe distance away, head tilted back, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Stitch blinks. "What happened?"

Needle laughs, hoarse and hurting. "Nothing yet," he mutters. "I- can't. Apparently."

He shifts. "Sorry about your nose, Rittan."

The surgeon- Rittan- is olive-skinned and square-jawed and has a knot of scar tissue sealing shut the socket where her left eye should be. She wrinkles her nose assessingly, drops her hand, and waves Needle's apology off as she settles into her chair.

Stitch likes her immediately.

"Don't be," she says easily. "I've had worse. I once called a total evac when Bretta tossed me an apple and I saw a grenade. We've all got our own twitches."

It takes Stitch a moment to make the connection.

To realize why he's here.

And then he looks again at Needle's pale face and thinks-

Oh.

Needle glances up.

"I- can't," he bursts out. "I thought I could, but I- can't. I can't have- I can't-"

He stops. His shoulders sag.

"I can't," he repeats helplessly. "I can't. I want it out. I can't."

"But you know-"

"Yeah."

"And that it could-"

"I know."

"Or even-"

"Stitch."

Stitch's mouth snaps shut. Needle winces.

"I... know," he says slowly. "I do. I want it out. I want it out. I want it out."

He stops. Presses his hands hard against his eyes.

"I was this close to lying to both of you," he says eventually. "Tell her I'd get it done on the ship. Tell you I'd gotten it done here. And just-"

He shrugs. Helpless. Hurting.

"It could wipe you away," Stitch says desperately, and regrets it immediately when Needle's whole body jerks.

"So maybe I'll just sit here until the end of fucking time, then," Needle snaps, "because I can't let it stay in my brain but I can't let anyone else's fingers in there either! Not-"

He stops.

Stitch's whole chest hurts.

Not again.

"Sorry," Needle says hoarsely. "Sorry. I- hell. Rittan suggested calling someone, but- you can go. I'll figure it out. You can-"

Stitch has stopped listening.

A slow plan is bubbling to life in the back of his mind.

"Needle," he interrupts, "you trust me, right?"

"I- what? Of course-"

"And you want it out?"

Needle curls inwards, hugging himself.

"I don't want it to happen again, Stitch," he whispers, and Stitch nods.

Needle trusts him. Needle wants it out.

He can't let it be taken out.

But he wants it out.

Okay.

"I am going to get you something to drink," he says decisively. "Because hydration is important. While I think. You'll stay here?"

He's met with a wan smile. "Cross my heart."

Stitch hesitates.

(But Needle does this all the time. And it's- nice.)

After a beat, he cups Needle's face in his hands, leans down, and carefully presses a kiss to his forehead.

Needle's eyes are very wide, when he looks down.

"Did I do that right?" Stitch asks, suddenly feeling unaccountably nervous.

Needle's smile looks more like Needle, this time. "Perfect."

Oh.

That's-

That's good.

Right.

The plan.

He returns with a cup of grape juice.

(Needle trusts him.)

He hands it to Needle.

(Needle trusts him.)

Needle drinks, without a second's hesitation.

(Needle trusts him.)

Stitch catches both him and the cup.

"Pretty strong grape juice," Rittan observes.

She's- watching him.

Stitch meets her gaze. "Propofol," he says quietly. "Grape juice so he won't associate it with water later. I'll be your second."

Another item on the list of things you do for your brothers:

The things they can't.

Stitch is largely silent, as Rittan narrates every step.

Watching.

He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

At one point:

"There's a lot of scarring," Rittan observes. "More than I'd have expected."

"Yes," Stitch says, and does not elaborate.

Needle is moved to recovery.

Stitch settles down next to him.

He doesn't know how much time passes before Needle's breathing shifts into something shallower. Faster.

Stitch knows panic when he sees it, and pokes him. "Needle."

"Mmph."

"Needle," Stitch repeats, and pokes him again.

"...'ch?"

"Yes. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

A moment of stillness. He sees Needle's eyes flicker beneath his eyelids, hears his breathing hitch-

"Needle. Needle. What's my favorite terrasaur?"

Needle's hands flex, curling into the sheet-

"'s a trick question," he manages. "Y'got two."

"What're the two, then?"

"...Blue. 'N tall."

"See?" Stitch whispers, smiling when Needle's eyes crack open and focus on him. "Still you. Still my Needle."

Needle's brow furrows, puzzled. "You..."

Stitch sits on his hands to stop himself from tapping.

"Stitch...?"

"Propofol in the grape juice," he whispers. "You couldn't. So I did."

A beat. A slow nod.

"Are you angry?"

A slow smile spreads across Needle's face.

"Good medic," he sighs, closing his eyes again, and Stitch carefully leans forward and rests his head on Needle's chest.

Feeling him breathe.

"I learned from the best," he whispers, and Needle's free hand reaches upwards and settles in his hair.

It'll be his turn in a bit, he knows. But Rittan will come and find him.

He's got time.

Needle's asleep by the time Stitch senses someone at the door.

He shifts as much as he can without disturbing Needle and looks up, expecting Rittan-

"Hey," Helix says quietly. He's leaning against the doorframe, eyes bright. "Everything go okay?"

Stitch nods.

There's a lump in his throat.

Helix pushes himself up and makes his way over, his gaze flickering towards the monitors. He stops at Needle's side, brushes his hair back-

Then he leans down and drops a kiss on his forehead.

Quick and swift as anything.

He keeps one hand there when he turns to Stitch.

"Rittan asked me to call you," he says quietly. "You want company?"

Stitch shakes his head. "You have to stay here. With Needle. Okay?"

A faintly puzzled smile flickers across Helix's face as he settles into the other chair. "Okay, Stitch. Second bed in here's free, too- I'll make sure it stays that way for you."

"Thanks, Helix," Stitch says. He gathers himself, stands, makes his way towards the door-

Then he pauses. "Did Needle get that from you?"

Helix glances up. "Get what?"

"The forehead kisses. He's good at those."

Helix snorts a laugh. "Doubt it. I think he was kind before he got here."

Stitch nods.

He thinks so, too.

[birb--birb]

Does Astarion know the difference between the ache of hunger and the ache of grief? After so many years of suppressing both, would they just eventually feel the same? Can he distinguish the sharp gnaw of hunger from the crushing ache of sadness, or are they just the same pain at this point.

[yanderederee]

Hi babies♡ I dont feel like writing (I have like, (5+ WIPs right now), but I DO feel like hearing people’s headcanons on characters/series so I can post them and share my thoughts (im a little drunk)

SO PLEASE SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS AND HEADCANONS ON THINGS SO I CAN SHARE THEM AND GIGGLE WITH YOU ALL !!! ♡

I’ll delete this later but pls interact

[forestshadow-wolf]

Part 1 || Part 2

Cw: (slight) drinkin/ smoking/avoidance as coping mechanisms, slight angst

it was odd to see soap walking to the table 30 minutes before breakfast ended.

usually he was first in-first out, his 'hawk perfectly gelled to stay right where he put it. not today.

not today when soap slumped down in his seat, almost too late to grab up a tray of cold eggs and sausage. not today when soap's hair flopped into a dishevled strip of hair on the top of his head, and it looked like he wanted to throw up the moment the tiniest morsel of food touched his tongue.

Almost everyone had already fucked off to start on their daily obligations by now. Ghost should have been gone by now as well, but he'd gotten worried when soap hadn't shown up. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, to quote a certain scot.

To be fair Ghost couldn't say he'd be in the best of spirits if he drank half the night away with a bottle of scotch that he smuggled onto base. And he didn't even know what to think about why he'd felt the need to.

Soap wouldn't even look up at him, even when he nudged his foot with the toe of his boot. Ghost couldn't tell whether it was the hangover, or if he was embarrassed about the night before, or from the news that lead him to drinking last night. He barely even poked at his food, didn't touch his full cup of rapidly cooling coffee, either.

"Sergent."

All he got in return was a disgruntled sound, and a vauge wince from the man. He stabbed a piece of egg and pushed it into the corner of his tray.

"Soap"

Soap huffed an almost pained breath.

"What?" He rasped.

Ghost held the silence, letting it speak for itself. Soap huffed another irritated breath.

"I don't want ta talk about it."

Ghost frowned. "Johnny."

"Fine! what?! what do you want me to say, Ghost?" Soap, snapped at him with a wince. that surprised Ghost, he doesn't think he's ever had soap snap at him like that in all the years he's known him. "I said we can forget last night never happened, why can't you just accept that?"

"you remember that?" it was honestly impressive, drinking most of a bottle of scotch alone and still remembering the night? that's not something Ghost can do.

"'course I remember." he grumbled bitterly, "and I said to forget it."

"right, because that's so healthy, is it?" ghost rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and you're the epitome of health." Soap snapped harshly.

Ghost chose to let that be the end of it. For now. Soap was in a shit mood, and he was more than likely hungover, and it sounded like he was having some issues.

The remaining time of breakfast rolled past quickly, and it was like a switch had flipped, how fast Soap became that image of perfection. next thing Ghost knew, the scot was striding away to take care of morning recruits.

he didn't see soap for the rest of the day. or that evening. in fact, he really only saw soap again when he was heading out for a late night smoke while he was taking a break from his giant load of paperwork. he was sitting on the ground outside, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"I'm not gonna have to drag you back to your bed again, am I?" he said, rolling up his mask, and sticking a cigarette between his lips.

"nah. not this this time." Soap, huffed a humorless laugh, taking a sip of amber liquid. but there was no bottle in sight, that was a good sign. but he did have a lit cigarette of his own between his fingers.

"you know, you really shouldn't smoke."

that elicited a scoff from the man beside him.

"it's bad for your lungs."

that made a deep chuckle escape the man, and Simon had to tamp down the shiver that went down his spine. they lapsed into silence lone enough for them to both finish their lights.

"you really should talk about it, you know. doesn't have to be with me, but..." he lit up another cigarette, offering the pack to Johnny as well.

"I'm fine." he said, the words short and clipped, as he took his own cigarette.

"you just seemed really torn up about it, that's all." he said.

Johnny let out a long breath of smoke, "It's all just... fucked." he sighed. "And I don't know what to do."

Simon stays quiet, letting Johnny think through his words.

"I want to go see him before he... ya'know, I think I have to, really. I don't know- it's just... I don't know." his words seemed to die on him, and Simon watched him lose steam.

"Last time you saw him, wasn't on the best terms." he finished for him.

"yeah." he whispered, polishing off the last of his drink and setting the glass to the side.

"I think you should go. if that's anything to you." Simon offered, blowing out a puff of smoke.

Johnny was quiet for a moment, "I know. I just... I'm scared, truthfully." he said quietly. "what if it goes wrong, and he doesn't want to see me, or- or he tells me he still hates me, and that it should be me that's dying and not him." he looked down at his hands.

"what if he doesn't though? what if he tells you he loves you. that he made a mistake. what if you get closure?"

"isn't that worse, though? to finally be accepted by him, only to lose him again?"

Simon shrugged, "you tell me."

they were quiet for a long time then, letting soap think about it. "what if I don't want to go alone?"

"all you gotta do is ask." he said, snubbing out his cigarette butt and walking back inside, he still had paperwork to finish.