#fucking antidepressants. like walking without pain or braces is gonna make me able to do like anything i want

[rigormortisangel]

if i didnt have child services riding my dick i wouldnt be in therapy and would probably just have my regular doctor give me psych meds bc i swear to god a psychology degree just makes people more retarded

[notsiriusatall]

Forget What I Said, It's Not What I Meant

He’s not sure what time it is when he wakes up, but the throbbing in his head and wrist remind Sirius of what’s going on before he even opens his eyes. 

“Doe?”

Sirius pushes the blanket off of his head and sits up as best he can. Every part of him aches, the pain of the past thirty six hours finally fully hitting him. He sucks in a breath and touches his ribs gingerly-at least one of them has to be broken.

“Fraid not, bro.”

Sirius turns towards the sound of James’ voice. Why do people keep cleaning his kitchen? Well he knows why, but he doesn’t really see the point in cleaning up a mess that doesn’t have an end in sight. Though he should probably abandon that style of thinking if he wants any chance of cleaning up the mess of himself. James is making pancakes, Sirius watches as he throws one at Grim who has abandoned his post at Sirius’s side in an effort to receive snacks. Sirius swallows, his throat raw from dehydration and the yelling he vaguely remembers doing last night. 

“James. I’m so sor-”

“I’m not taking any more apologies from you, Siri.” James says, his voice light and easy. “I’m not mad. You scared the shit out of me, but I’m not mad. But you don’t get to say sorry anymore unless you do something to fix it, okay?” 

Sirius nods, his throat scratchy and feeling as raw as the rest of him. 

“Okay.”

He sits in silence for a few moments, his heartbeat in his head as the hangover he’d pushed back finally settles in with full force.  Sirius pokes at his wrist, James must have bandaged it in his sleep, and sucks in a breath when his touch causes more red to seep into the white of the bandage. Sirius closes his eyes as the weight of everything crashes around him, eerily calm now that he’s on the other side of it, but the blood on his wrist won’t let him forget how close to the end he had been. 

This has to be rock bottom, right? There’s no way he could go any lower, right?

“Did you mean it?” James asks, coming around the couch and handing him a plate of pancakes. Sirius has a strange urge to cry when he looks at the smiley face James has painted with syrup.

“...mean what?”

He doesn’t know if he’s actually able to discuss all of this with James, but he guesses he doesn’t have much of a choice. How do you tell the person who has saved your life countless times that you can’t picture a future where you’re happy? Where you’re anything but a burden to the people you care about? 

James stuffs his mouth full of pancakes as Sirius stares at the syrup as it slides off the top of the stack. 

“Siri. You need to eat something.”

“Fine.” 

He takes a half hearted bite as James speaks.

“Did you mean it when you said you wanted help?” 

The hope in his best friend’s voice about kills him. Sirius fights through the shame and looks up, meeting James’s eyes.

“Yeah-” 

His voice cracks and shame wins out, his head falling back down to his plate. Grim noses his way between his knees, his snout just touching the plate, asking without asking. The couch shifts as James sits next to him.

“Good. Because-god, Sirius. Finding you like that-”

“I know.” His voice is too high. He feels sick but he cuts off another bite of pancake to make it up to James.

“You don’t, dude. It was...I can’t lose you, okay? Especially not like that.” 

Sirius breathes in and wills himself to sink into the leather of the couch. He closes his eyes as he threads his fingers in his hair, the giant knot he hasn’t bothered to brush out catching in his fingers.

“I-I don’t want to-I don’t want that either, but if I-when I’m sober it’s okay almost. But I can’t..I have to drink, James. I don’t think I can stop on my own”

He’s never admitted that out loud before. A small weight leaves the space between his shoulder blades.

“Okay.”

Sirius opens his eyes just in time to see James nod twice.

“I know a place-”

“I’m not going to the hospital.”

He says this with more authority in his voice than he deserves to have, but Sirius doesn’t care. Between a life time of his mother’s grooming and what had happened to Reg, if he never steps foot inside of a hospital again it’ll be too soon.

“Jesus fucking christ, will you let me finish?” James actually sounds pissed...well not pissed just frustrated. Sirius shuts up and looks at him expectantly. James sighs.

“There’s a place my professor works at sometimes, it’s inpatient-but its not hospital. It’s kind of got a...dentist office vibe.”

Sirius laughs and even though it sounds wrong, James smiling back at him makes it worth it.

“They’re not gonna like...I don’t know, do medical shit on me?” He asks, anxiety building in his chest. God, he wants a drink.

“I mean they might fix up your wrist a little better than me, but uh, we can tell them about your aversion.”

Sirius nods, not entirely liking how appealing it’s beginning to sound.

“They’ll uh, well they’ll work with you to get you sober. And you’d have to talk to a therapist.”

Sirius frowns, any hope he had slipping away.

“You mean I’ll sit there while a therapist talks at me.”

James sighs.

“Siri-”

“I’ll go, but only to dry out. Not for any of that other shit.”

James opens his mouth to argue, but then closes it.

“Fine. But you’re staying for a month.”

Sirius laughs, incredulous.

“A month? I thought like, maybe a long weekend.”

James gets up, not looking at him as he walks towards the kitchen.

“Then you’re not fucking going, if you’re not going to take it seriously.”

“I take everything Siriusouly.”

Sirius watches as James stiffens at the sink. He puts his plate down and turns, his hands bracing himself on the island as he speaks, his anger barely contained, his knuckles whitening.

“Right, now’s the time for jokes, after I sped over here, almost crashed my fucking car because you sounded like you were fucking dying on the phone. Because my first instinct when Doe called Lily and asked for a ride and mentioned you was that you were going to try to die. That’s really fucking funny, Sirius. It’s all just a big fucking joke, right? Me panicking trying to figure out how the fuck I’m supposed to get through everything left in my life without you if you die, Lily in fucking hysterics when I called her a bit ago and Dorcas-”

“Don’t.” Sirius says, anger taking over even the shame. “Don’t bring her into this.”

“You brought her into this, dude. And she’s already in it whether you like it or not. We fucking care about you. We’re fucking terrified, Sirius. And not just for you...I’m scared of you. I have no idea what you’re going to do next, I have no idea who you are and I thought maybe I could stick it out long enough to see if my best friend would come back but if you’re just going to sit there and think you can solve your problems with a long weekend of minorly giving a shit then I don’t think you’re ever going to come back. And I don’t think you’re ever going to beat this. You need to wake the fuck up, Sirius. You have a choice to make-you can stay down at the bottom or you can fucking try.”

James searches his face as his words sink in. Sirius knows he’s right. But, more importantly, Sirius wants him to be right. This has to be a turning point-he didn’t push that glass deeper for a reason. There was something in him that wanted to live, needed to live, and it was time. Sirius puts his barely touched pancakes on the coffee table and stands. James’s gaze doesn’t leave him, challenging him and begging him at the same time.

“...what happens to Grim?”

James smiles at him sadly.

“He can come stay with us.”

Sirius nods, looking down. 

“Will you tell her I’m sorry?”

Sirius doesn’t need to clarify who ‘her’ is.

“You’ll tell her yourself.”

“In a month.”

“In a month.”

Sirius nods. 

“What do I-how do you even pack for rehab?”

~

Sirius hates most of the people here, but that was the case no matter where he went. It was a bougie place-to be expected given James’s connections, but Jesus. Its hard to find empathy in your fellow addicts when they’re all vapid pieces of low-fat cornbread. Still, he has to admit he feels better than he has in months. The first few days were hell with alcohol withdrawls-and a wake up call. He’d never considered himself an alcoholic, not really. Not any more than anyone else he knew who was in their early twenties. Of course he had been kidding himself, and there was strange comfort in the label, though he’ll never admit it. 

He’s on his way back from his one on one therapy right now. His therapist is a pretty redhead with gappy teeth named Samantha, and he was annoyingly patient. She’d given him a notebook after he’d spent their whole first session in silence, and spent the next silent one offering Sirius suggestions as what to write. She’d mentioned the word letter and it was all over. Not that writing letters to Doe had ever been over in the first place. Sirius had talked at the third session, he asked her how he could not want to die all the time. They’d talked a little more and more and now he almost trusted her, two weeks in. Not enough to tell her anything significant, but still.She’d picked up on that.

“There’s something you aren’t telling me.”

“You got that right.”

“This is only as effective as you let it be, Sirius.”

“That sounds like a cop out.”

She’d laughed at that, and for a second, Sirius let himself imagine that it was Doe’s laughter, that he was somewhere, anywhere, with her. That he hadn’t been messed up and broken from the very start, that he could be someone she deserves. 

Cause even though Sirius is still hopelessly in love with her, he’s going to try his best to not stand in her way. Not poison her more than he already has. He almost told Samantha about that. Almost. But telling her about Dorcas lead him down a nasty path of his past, one that they’d also almost uncovered when Samantha had suggested an antidepressant and Sirius had gone borderline ballistic.

“If we just try-”

“If you try to give me a pill I’m walking out that fucking door and never coming back.”

She’d told him next session that she’d met with the substance counselor and determined together that getting Sirius on something else wasn’t the best step, but he was pretty sure she was lying. She’d decided not to give it to him to appease him-and even though Sirius could see through it, it didn’t mean it didn’t work.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he bumps into something. When he pulls himself out of his head, he registers the piano bench. Sirius glances around him-it was their hour and a half of free time between therapies and dinner. A few of the other residents-as the staff insisted they be called-were scattered on the various couches in the rec room. Some watching a movie, some reading-no one would notice, right? His fingers itch with an urge he hadn’t felt in forever. Cautiously, he slides onto the bench, moving the cover off the keys. He hits middle C. It’s terribly out of tune. He glances around and no one has looked up from their own business. Something like joy threatens to creep into his chest as he starts to play-singing along before he can stop himself.

Wise men say

Only fools rush in

But I can’t help

Falling In Love with you.

He keeps glancing at Dorcas next to him on the bench in his apartment, butterflies everywhere inside of him. He hasn’t told her before, not in so many words. Not that this was you know, words, but he hopes she’ll be able to read between the lines. He turns his attention back to the keys, his face hot for some reason as he finishes the notes. He hand covers him as he hits the last keys and he breaks out into a big grin as he faces her.

“So, what do you think?”

She’s beaming back at him, her eyes full of his answer before she even speaks.

“You’ve been practicing.”

He nods, his voice falling to a whisper, feeling like the entire world existed for just the two of them.

“Every day.”

“Siri?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

He hits a wrong note and pulls himself out of his memories. He stops and shakes himself.

“You’re really good.”

Sirius about jumps out of his skin. He turns and sees one of the Mindys smiling at him, her too thin hands draped over the top of the standing piano.

“Oh-thanks. Just you know, something to do.”

She smiles at him in a way that’s uncomfortably familiar. “I could give you something to do.”

Sirius laughs awkwardly and slides off of the bench in the opposite direction of her. She is pretty, in a Boston Barbie type of way. He was pretty sure she was in for a coke habit, or maybe she sniffed incessantly for some other reason. There was a point, aka three weeks ago, where he would’ve thrown caution to the wind and gone with the Mindy to the very romantic broom closet he knew people hooked up in, but instead, Sirius shakes his head.

“I’m uh, good. Thanks.”

She glares at him and walks back to her group on the sofas. Maybe this was progress. 

Sirius looks at the piano, wondering if that was progress too. Tomorrow was Saturday, when they got visitors, and he knew James would be coming, like always. Last time he’d brought Lily and Grim-but the dog wasn't allowed in and since Sirius didn’t think he could handle seeing Lily, they’d both waited in the car. For a stupid fleeting moment, Sirius wonders if James would bring Doe, but he pushes the thought out of his mind as he makes his way to the phone, calling collect. He holds his breath but releases it when James answers.

“Couldn’t wait one more day, sweetheart?”

Sirius laughs, the eagerness in James’ voice it’s own reward. He had a suspicion his best friend might know who he was again, and regardless of what else happens when Sirius gets out of here, he’s going to try to keep it that way.

“You know it, no bespectacled black gentlemen are in here with me, it’s unbearable.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s racist.”

Sirius laughs again but swallows hard as he gears up to ask.

“Could you uh, do me a favor?”

“Is it saving your ass and bullying you into getting your life together? Cause I’m still working on that one.”

“Uh, no. I mean, well, yeah. But um...can you swing by my place and bring me my guitar tomorrow?”

.