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Save me from myself
It had gotten too hard to lie to himself anymore; he was a motherfucking wreck. After his therapist transferred out of the state work and into a private practice, he couldn't afford to pay the guy what he was charging, and the idea of starting up a new dialogue with some unknown motherfucker didn't sound appealing to Gamzee at all. He'd done that before, and it was shaky ground for nearly a year with this guy before he started feeling really at peace with letting himself be all of himself around the guy.
But with no therapist, there was no way to get his medication. At least one of the meds was something that had refills for a year - the inhibitors that kept the whispers out and kept the dark motherfucker somewhat controllable in his pan would last long enough, but the rest of it, the shit that knocked him out, the shit that kept his forepan balanced in the meanwhile? That had run out two weeks ago. It was a pretty hard spiral downward after the first week, and this week hadn't even had the courtesy of a spiral. It was straight motherfucking down, in a nosedive of anger and guilt and ungodly memories that bubbled through and trickled into his sponge, reminding him that there was a reason he was alone, and that there was a reason for those motherfucking scars down his face.
Gamzee hadn't called in three days, and only had the presence of mind to talk to his boss the night before locking up to tell him what had been going down five days prior, and asked for a week or two off so he didn't wind up hurting anybody. His boss marked him down for vacation and asked the highblood to find something fast for the sake of his own health.
He hadn't. The idea of doing it all over again, breaking another person under the weight of his fucking problems was too much for him. He should have just been committed again after all. Fucking motherfuck, he wasn't safe.
So that was why he was still in his place, shivering under the cover of a heavy blanket, grinding his teeth and muttering to himself in an argument. Ain't nobody gonna come, Tavros ain't even texted. Who the fuckdo you think you is, tryin' to be all up and savin' yourself? Let go, you spineless motherfuck.Let me do this shit up, you know I got what it motherfuckin' takes to keep you from crackin'. You just be gettin' your rest on, brother, get your shit all bedded down. Let me handle it. You know you tired. Ain't no motherfuckin' thing. Make like Elsa and just let motherfuckin' go.
For once, the ugly motherfucker had a point. He was exhausted. And thus far, the malicious end to him had behaved himself. But shit, he knew it wouldn't take much for him to get started. And then get they-all in trouble. But he was so tired. Just a little bit wouldn't hurt, right?
Right?
But with no therapist, there was no way to get his medication. At least one of the meds was something that had refills for a year - the inhibitors that kept the whispers out and kept the dark motherfucker somewhat controllable in his pan would last long enough, but the rest of it, the shit that knocked him out, the shit that kept his forepan balanced in the meanwhile? That had run out two weeks ago. It was a pretty hard spiral downward after the first week, and this week hadn't even had the courtesy of a spiral. It was straight motherfucking down, in a nosedive of anger and guilt and ungodly memories that bubbled through and trickled into his sponge, reminding him that there was a reason he was alone, and that there was a reason for those motherfucking scars down his face.
Gamzee hadn't called in three days, and only had the presence of mind to talk to his boss the night before locking up to tell him what had been going down five days prior, and asked for a week or two off so he didn't wind up hurting anybody. His boss marked him down for vacation and asked the highblood to find something fast for the sake of his own health.
He hadn't. The idea of doing it all over again, breaking another person under the weight of his fucking problems was too much for him. He should have just been committed again after all. Fucking motherfuck, he wasn't safe.
So that was why he was still in his place, shivering under the cover of a heavy blanket, grinding his teeth and muttering to himself in an argument. Ain't nobody gonna come, Tavros ain't even texted. Who the fuckdo you think you is, tryin' to be all up and savin' yourself? Let go, you spineless motherfuck.Let me do this shit up, you know I got what it motherfuckin' takes to keep you from crackin'. You just be gettin' your rest on, brother, get your shit all bedded down. Let me handle it. You know you tired. Ain't no motherfuckin' thing. Make like Elsa and just let motherfuckin' go.
For once, the ugly motherfucker had a point. He was exhausted. And thus far, the malicious end to him had behaved himself. But shit, he knew it wouldn't take much for him to get started. And then get they-all in trouble. But he was so tired. Just a little bit wouldn't hurt, right?
Right?
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As he stalked down the hallway out to the parking lot, he thought very seriously about not coming back in. Going down, getting rid of those punks, and going home. But as he paced the length of the parking lot in long strides, smoking not one, but two cigarettes in that time, he found himself mulling over the brownblood's words. As he stopped pacing, he pulled out his phone and texted Tavros.
I'M COMING BACK IN, MOTHERFUCKER.
SHIT, UNLESS YOU BE WANTIN' ME TO GET GONE.
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By the time he could hear his matesprit outside the door, he was out in the kitchen, drinking deeply from a highball glass filled with some cocktail of things kept about as high as he could reach out of the way. He rinsed his mouth out when it was empty and he was slightly nauseous, then simply stood with his back against the counter, facing the wall opposite the front door, his arms crossed tight over his chest. He didn't really expect Gamzee to come back in, even with permission granted.
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"I'm scared, motherfucker. Scared I ain't gonna have what it takes to live out there when you ain't around no more." He said it so quietly, it was a miracle in and of itself if Tavros heard him as he settled to squat against the wall adjacent to the brownblood.
"Scared that without some motherfuckin' work done, it ain't gonna get better for us. I don't... I don't think it'll get better. It's gonna come down to me gettin' locked up, or me gettin' killed every motherfuckin' day. 'Cause I won't have you keepin' me all outta trouble like you do." He shook his head. "And one day, it's gonna be them and us, and sure, we got the strength, the motherfuckin' knowledge, but we ain't the rulemakers here. We just gotta play along, actin' like motherfuckin' stooges while they sit on they high horses, gettin' real motherfuckin' belligerent over the slightest shit. And it ain't gettin' better. Ain't nobody gonna respect what all I gotta be doin'. Ain't no human in this dream gonna believe it's necessary. You... you got a good skill, a useful motherfuckin' ability they can condone 'cause you ain't... fuckin' keepin' people in line. You say put my motherfuckin' mind to it, find a new motherfuckin' place. What the fuck place do I got, Tavros? Ain't nobody need brutal pacification in this world. All they be needin' is docile motherfuckers who can assimilate and take what they dickin' us with, or play the system bein' wily. Not me."
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"But you're smart," he continued, "one of the smartest people I've ever met. I know there's a lot more to you than just your obligation to your caste and your gods. If you were needed to keep the peace and enforce what we have, you would have been made a Guardian rather than being left down here with the rest of us. I bet you would have been a good one, if you had to do it, but you don't. You have a life here and even if it's a quiet one surrounded by people like that, just...try to focus on the rest of us. Me and game group and those people you talk to every day at the store. The ones that are getting huge heads and thinking they're superior just because they're not us, they don't even deserve this anger and the energy you're putting into it."
Tavros finally made his way back to Gamzee's side, sitting down on the floor there next to him. "You don't have to be the one enforcing our ideals. Whatever your pan's whispering to the contrary, your only responsibility is to you now. If you think anything different, then talk to one of the Guardians. Give them your concerns. They might need this feedback, especially if they're going to put the changes into effect. That way, nobody gets hurt, and nobody can point fingers. You have a brilliant way with words, I know you can convince them to come around and actually help us." He reached up gingerly and laid his hand against he side of Gamzee's head, dragging his claws behind is matesprit's ear briefly then letting his hand rest at Gamzee's neck.
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For a while, he simply leaned, silent and contemplative, before he tightened his hug once more, murmuring a quiet apology, adding, "Didn't mean to hurt you with what all I was sayin', cuz. Don't ever wanna see you so mad again."
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