Trent Frey
Canon
Topics: Drugs, Family, Recovery
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She was standing in his bedroom doorway. Again. Watching as he pulled his new coat out of the closet. "Jeg forlater," he said matter-of-factly. I'm going out.
She was silent, as though debating, and he mentally dared her to say it. Have you seen my gold necklace? He didn't want to think about it—couldn't think about it—which was why it was missing in the first place. She never wore it. And she didn't need any reminders of that year, anyway.
She didn't say a thing. Not a word as he wound a long, striped scarf around his neck, as he tugged on his coat and a warm pair of leather gloves. It wasn't until he headed for the door that she stopped him with a light hand against his arm.
Even through his jacket it was too much contact, and he jerked away, purposefully avoiding eye contact. He'd have just left, but now she spoke, her voice soft with the words. "Jeg elsker deg. Vær forsiktig," she said. I love you. Be careful.
"I'll be fine," he replied in sharp-edged English. "Don't wait up." He pushed lightly past her, then made his way out, her eyes burning against the back of his neck.
* * *
The early morning light was bright against his eyes, despite the heavy sunglasses he wore, and the hand that shielded his face. The trip had only started, and he just hoped he could get to his bed before he fell into the hole he knew was coming. He'd had too much again, and the rapid beat of his heart might have frightened him if he couldn't already feel himself starting to float.
He unlocked the door and slipped in carefully, quietly, only just able to get it locked again before his feet left the floor. It was a long swim through sun-streaked air to his bed, and even then he could only hover over it, watching the stars on the top sheet blast across and explode in bursts of color. Now and then he reached for his headboard, trying to pull himself down, to join the stars, and this time he made it. He pulled himself onto the sheet, into the sheet, and caught a star to ride, shrinking as small as an electron to blow through a universe even smaller than he was. It was mindless bliss until the hole closed on him, and everything went black.
* * *
His mother's tears had nearly killed him, in ways the drugs could only have tried to. The hospital stay had been brief, but rehab hadn't, and Christmas had been bittersweet. His mother had given him a camera he named Melody, something she'd likely purchased a month or more ago, and he'd given her a rare hug on her way out, even if his skin had crawled at the contact. He hated himself for what he'd done to her, but he couldn't think of any way things could have gone differently.
