my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Printable Version
+- Charming (https://charmingrp.com)
+-- Forum: IC - London (https://charmingrp.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=10)
+--- Forum: London (https://charmingrp.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=80)
+---- Forum: The Augurey Beak Cafe (https://charmingrp.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=111)
+---- Thread: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass (/showthread.php?tid=15691)
+- Charming (https://charmingrp.com)
+-- Forum: IC - London (https://charmingrp.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=10)
+--- Forum: London (https://charmingrp.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=80)
+---- Forum: The Augurey Beak Cafe (https://charmingrp.com/forumdisplay.php?fid=111)
+---- Thread: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass (/showthread.php?tid=15691)
Pages:
1
2
my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Jude Wright - August 12, 2024
9th August, 1894 — By the Augurey
Kieran had been late, and mostly quiet through the meeting – more preoccupied with his glass in hand than talking about the suffrage bill or anything else. Perhaps that was fair. And Jude hadn’t said anything to stop him; but trying not to think about it hadn’t stopped the misgivings from lodging themselves in the back of his mind. He had heard Kieran’s chair scrape up early, so he thought he might have left, but when Jude stepped outside the Augurey, there he was. Waiting, maybe – or just too drunk to fathom getting home.
Jude steeled himself. “Are you alright?” he asked (despite knowing in his gut the honest answer was no). And it was a whole week out from the full moon, so that couldn’t be the cause tonight for his looking so worse for wear; nd besides, he could smell the alcohol on him from here. He wished that were more of a surprise. (And even if it wasn’t – every time he had to witness it, it still felt a little worse somehow. Maybe even more now, because Kieran knew how he cared.)
So it was less the fact that he was clearly drunk that concerned Jude, and more the idea of how much steady drinking today it must have taken him to get there.
Jude steeled himself. “Are you alright?” he asked (despite knowing in his gut the honest answer was no). And it was a whole week out from the full moon, so that couldn’t be the cause tonight for his looking so worse for wear; nd besides, he could smell the alcohol on him from here. He wished that were more of a surprise. (And even if it wasn’t – every time he had to witness it, it still felt a little worse somehow. Maybe even more now, because Kieran knew how he cared.)
So it was less the fact that he was clearly drunk that concerned Jude, and more the idea of how much steady drinking today it must have taken him to get there.
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Kieran Abernathy - August 14, 2024
He'd wrapped up his stories early today, and in the absence of more work had gone to most of his usual haunts of London. Jinxed Jackrabbit, the Leaky Cauldron for Eileen, one of the boxing rings he sometimes watched fights in. There weren't any fights today, but some friends were they, and there was nothing to be done but drink and compare punches. Really, all of these places, there was nothing to be done but drink — by the time he walked into the Augurey Kieran smelled like whiskey and tangy, sour sweat. His sleeves were rumpled and his hair was too, and he sat in the back.
He'd sketched, quiet, through much of the meeting, as he worked his way through another pint (or maybe more.) Eventually the sketch was done, or Kieran was done with it — rough and angry and unsure, and he crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, downed the rest of the pint, and walked outside.
The world swam, here. He pressed his back against the brick wall of the Augurey and sighed, tilting his head back until his hair rumpled itself against the wall. Maybe a cigarette would steady him. He was not much for cigarettes, but sometimes they did that — a different feeling. He just needed to find one.
He'd made no efforts to find one until Jude came out of the bar. Kieran opened his eyes, and looked at Jude without moving his head or body. "I'm drunk," he said, matter-of-fact — as if it was not obvious to them both.
He'd sketched, quiet, through much of the meeting, as he worked his way through another pint (or maybe more.) Eventually the sketch was done, or Kieran was done with it — rough and angry and unsure, and he crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, downed the rest of the pint, and walked outside.
The world swam, here. He pressed his back against the brick wall of the Augurey and sighed, tilting his head back until his hair rumpled itself against the wall. Maybe a cigarette would steady him. He was not much for cigarettes, but sometimes they did that — a different feeling. He just needed to find one.
He'd made no efforts to find one until Jude came out of the bar. Kieran opened his eyes, and looked at Jude without moving his head or body. "I'm drunk," he said, matter-of-fact — as if it was not obvious to them both.
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Jude Wright - September 1, 2024
“Yeah,” Jude said, as he studied him back. “I figured.” What he couldn’t decide was whether there had been a cause or a reason for it, some frustration in his day, something gone wrong that could be fixed – or the roots went deeper, and this was just any other night to him, just an ordinary bout of self-destruction. More often than not, Jude worried it was the latter; and if it was, he was out of his depths, and didn’t know how to address it, let alone how to help.
He chewed on his consternation for a moment. “Are you staying, or going?” he asked, a little flatly. Jude was tired, ready to call it a night; but he also wasn’t about to leave Kieran here, in this distant, almost dissociative state.
He chewed on his consternation for a moment. “Are you staying, or going?” he asked, a little flatly. Jude was tired, ready to call it a night; but he also wasn’t about to leave Kieran here, in this distant, almost dissociative state.
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Kieran Abernathy - September 8, 2024
Jude was annoyed with him. This happened often, when he was drunk — but he didn't usually intend on ending up like this. It was just something that happened.
"Going," Kieran said, half-gruff. With a big heaving push, he shoved himself off of the wall so he was standing on his own accord. (Swaying, standing — they Ould merge together.) "Are you coming?"
"Going," Kieran said, half-gruff. With a big heaving push, he shoved himself off of the wall so he was standing on his own accord. (Swaying, standing — they Ould merge together.) "Are you coming?"
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Jude Wright - September 29, 2024
He had succeeded in getting off the wall. That was something.
Jude considered the question for another split-second. It would have been easier to answer if Kieran were closer to sober; he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Tonight – well, he wouldn’t stay. But he nodded anyway, fine, and gave a small sigh. “I’ll walk with you.” Privately, this was more to make sure Kieran actually got home in one piece and wasn’t diverted off to another few bars on worse and worse streets; else Jude would lie awake worrying about him, probably.
He pressed a hand, brief, to Kieran’s back, to make sure he was steady, but let his hand drop away as they started moving, gaze drifting absently along the closed shopfronts instead. He picked determinedly at a loose thread at the seam of his jacket sleeve. “So,” he said eventually, falsely light, “how much did you have today?”
Jude considered the question for another split-second. It would have been easier to answer if Kieran were closer to sober; he wouldn’t have given it a second thought. Tonight – well, he wouldn’t stay. But he nodded anyway, fine, and gave a small sigh. “I’ll walk with you.” Privately, this was more to make sure Kieran actually got home in one piece and wasn’t diverted off to another few bars on worse and worse streets; else Jude would lie awake worrying about him, probably.
He pressed a hand, brief, to Kieran’s back, to make sure he was steady, but let his hand drop away as they started moving, gaze drifting absently along the closed shopfronts instead. He picked determinedly at a loose thread at the seam of his jacket sleeve. “So,” he said eventually, falsely light, “how much did you have today?”
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Kieran Abernathy - October 2, 2024
Jude was walking with him, but not maintaining the physical closeness that they sometimes did when they were both sober, or merely both tipsy. Kieran watched Jude watch the storefronts. He didn't have to be sober to know that the other man was disappointed.
"I had enough," Kieran answered. The actual amounts didn't matter much, the hard liquor interspersed with pints of beer and maybe even some wine, because he was sure that Jude would be appalled if Kieran started hazarding guesses.
No — he'd had enough, enough to have him unsteady on his feet and in his skull, enough that he would have a headache tomorrow, enough to chase off the impulse to have more.
"I had enough," Kieran answered. The actual amounts didn't matter much, the hard liquor interspersed with pints of beer and maybe even some wine, because he was sure that Jude would be appalled if Kieran started hazarding guesses.
No — he'd had enough, enough to have him unsteady on his feet and in his skull, enough that he would have a headache tomorrow, enough to chase off the impulse to have more.
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Jude Wright - October 14, 2024
“Enough,” Jude echoed blankly; blankness was better than abject dismay. And he was losing his attempt at lightness already, the more he turned it over in his head.
He knew he should keep his mouth shut, knew it would be better to address this some other day, when they were both sober and Kieran was in a good place and he had considered how to broach it gently – but he was already biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself, and it wasn’t working. “How do you tell? Enough for what?”
He meant it honestly – he wanted to understand where Kieran drew the line, what made him, in his head, decide to stop or start at all – but still he felt that, in the stillness, the question had come out wrong.
He knew he should keep his mouth shut, knew it would be better to address this some other day, when they were both sober and Kieran was in a good place and he had considered how to broach it gently – but he was already biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself, and it wasn’t working. “How do you tell? Enough for what?”
He meant it honestly – he wanted to understand where Kieran drew the line, what made him, in his head, decide to stop or start at all – but still he felt that, in the stillness, the question had come out wrong.
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Kieran Abernathy - October 15, 2024
Kieran squinted at Jude. It was a silly question, because there was not a real answer — the sun would rise tomorrow and he would chase off his hangover with a drink in the mid-afternoon. He wondered if Jude had noticed that when Kieran was sober for too long his hands started shaking.
"Enough that I don't need more," he answered, trying for honesty, although he still wasn't sure that a good answer existed. He was too drunk to explain himself, too drunk to attach reason to his own behavior.
"Enough that I don't need more," he answered, trying for honesty, although he still wasn't sure that a good answer existed. He was too drunk to explain himself, too drunk to attach reason to his own behavior.
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Jude Wright - November 10, 2024
He thought he understood the answer, much as he didn’t like to hear it. Kieran depended on the drink, then, the way laudanum addicts couldn’t get enough of the stuff, almost couldn’t function without it. And he didn’t know how long Kieran had lived like this – for as long as Jude had known him, certainly – but he was sure it was slowly killing him.
How could he say it, though? I don’t like seeing you this way. That was Jude’s problem more than it was Kieran’s. Doesn’t it only make you feel worse, really? But who was he to judge? Kieran already went through the ringer like clockwork every month; maybe part of the alcohol’s job was to self-medicate through it. Aren’t you scared of what it might do to you?
Maybe he wasn’t – but Jude was. He realised he had been in his head, swallowing his thoughts, and a little too quiet for a little too long. Suddenly, then: “Have you never – tried to stop?”
How could he say it, though? I don’t like seeing you this way. That was Jude’s problem more than it was Kieran’s. Doesn’t it only make you feel worse, really? But who was he to judge? Kieran already went through the ringer like clockwork every month; maybe part of the alcohol’s job was to self-medicate through it. Aren’t you scared of what it might do to you?
Maybe he wasn’t – but Jude was. He realised he had been in his head, swallowing his thoughts, and a little too quiet for a little too long. Suddenly, then: “Have you never – tried to stop?”
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Kieran Abernathy - November 18, 2024
Jude was too quiet. Kieran was studying him, with the unfocused patience of a drunk, the way the light from the gaslamps on the street highlighted Jude's cheekbones and the way Jude's hair caught the light. Kieran huffed out a breath when the inevitable question came.
"No," Kieran said, tone halfway between tired and defiant. "I haven't."
"No," Kieran said, tone halfway between tired and defiant. "I haven't."
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Jude Wright - December 12, 2024
Kieran’s answer had an edge of exasperation to it, as if that were the end of things. The matter closed. The idea not worth exploring. He had never even tried.
And this might not be the time for it, but – there was never a good time with Kieran. And true, Kieran seemed either tired or tired of the topic; but Jude was tired of watching him so wrung out by the drink. And, in his defence, it almost felt like an easier conversation to have when the smell of whiskey was rolling off him, as though it could be proof to back up the argument. (Maybe he partly hoped that, if he took it badly, Kieran wouldn’t remember the conversation by tomorrow – but he was still walking, so that seemed unlikely.)
“You know if you did, I’d – be there for you,” Jude said delicately. “But... I think maybe you should.”
And this might not be the time for it, but – there was never a good time with Kieran. And true, Kieran seemed either tired or tired of the topic; but Jude was tired of watching him so wrung out by the drink. And, in his defence, it almost felt like an easier conversation to have when the smell of whiskey was rolling off him, as though it could be proof to back up the argument. (Maybe he partly hoped that, if he took it badly, Kieran wouldn’t remember the conversation by tomorrow – but he was still walking, so that seemed unlikely.)
“You know if you did, I’d – be there for you,” Jude said delicately. “But... I think maybe you should.”
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Kieran Abernathy - December 13, 2024
Kieran frowned at Jude's request, unable to stop his face from making the expression. Jude was being delicate, but the request was abominable to Kieran — there were so many reasons that it was impossible to fulfill, and he was too drunk to list them out for Jude. Besides, weren't they obvious? He thought they ought to be obvious.
He clumsily snaked his arm within Jude's, so that their elbows were linked. "You're not being fun," he accused, leaning against the other man.
He clumsily snaked his arm within Jude's, so that their elbows were linked. "You're not being fun," he accused, leaning against the other man.
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Jude Wright - December 19, 2024
Any hope he had was fading as fast as it had arisen; it had been a mistake to bring this up tonight. Kieran was even further gone than he’d thought – and it was the tang of whiskey on him when he pressed against him that made Jude startle, more than the touch. Still, if he recoiled slightly, it wasn’t forceful enough to pull himself free of his arm.
He didn’t soften towards him, though. They were close to Kieran’s flat now, but Jude’s pace slowed at this new obstacle – trying not to stop and snap at him, trying desperately to keep his cool. Not being fun. “Do you think I find this fun?” he answered shortly, a little flushed. (He had at least thought better of saying, plaintively, neither are you when you’re like this.) Jude shot him a more direct look, gaze as exasperated as it was imploring. “I’m being serious, Kieran.”
He didn’t soften towards him, though. They were close to Kieran’s flat now, but Jude’s pace slowed at this new obstacle – trying not to stop and snap at him, trying desperately to keep his cool. Not being fun. “Do you think I find this fun?” he answered shortly, a little flushed. (He had at least thought better of saying, plaintively, neither are you when you’re like this.) Jude shot him a more direct look, gaze as exasperated as it was imploring. “I’m being serious, Kieran.”
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Kieran Abernathy - December 19, 2024
Kieran frowned, because his clumsy attempt at distracting Jude hadn’t succeeded. Maybe he had to work more for it, then — and a sour part of him thought that if he provoked Jude into snapping at him, they would not have to keep talking about this. He didn’t know how to explain, how to show Jude the smudges of alcohol on his family tree and on his life, when he was sure he’d started drinking years before Jude and obviously much more heavily. It was already part of him — in his blood, and the liquor had been there longer than lycanthropy.
”You’re always serious,” Kieran drawled. (This was not true, but not the first time Kieran had accused Jude of being too serious. It was an old argument; an old insult.) His pace ground to a halt. ”Let me make it fun for you.”
”You’re always serious,” Kieran drawled. (This was not true, but not the first time Kieran had accused Jude of being too serious. It was an old argument; an old insult.) His pace ground to a halt. ”Let me make it fun for you.”
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Jude Wright - December 19, 2024
He could have seen that response coming – and here came a familiar itch in him, the rising temptation for a fight. They hadn’t stopped arguing now that they were together, but Jude had optimistically imagined they would only keep the habit of the debates (arguing on social issues and progressive causes, the way they always had) and nothing else; that things like this might be easier to broach, now that Kieran knew it came from a place of love and not judgement. Apparently not.
A part of him suspected Kieran would have been just as defensive, entirely sober. There was a sigh sitting heavy in his chest when Kieran stopped their progress. “How are you going to do that?” Jude asked dryly; it took all his concentration to keep his tone steady now. “Because watching you drink yourself to death doesn’t really work for me.”
A part of him suspected Kieran would have been just as defensive, entirely sober. There was a sigh sitting heavy in his chest when Kieran stopped their progress. “How are you going to do that?” Jude asked dryly; it took all his concentration to keep his tone steady now. “Because watching you drink yourself to death doesn’t really work for me.”
RE: my head is the room and the room's full of broken glass - Kieran Abernathy - December 19, 2024
”I’m not dying,” Kieran retorted, heat behind his words for the first time. He was immediately embarrassed for having replied like that, so childishly, and looked down at his boots. He didn’t think he was dying. But his body protested when he went too long without drinking, and sometimes his heart raced, and he knew he needed it like a balm. Maybe it would kill him someday. He didn’t want to think about that.
Languid, Kieran draped his free arm over Jude’s shoulder. ”You can’t think of anything fun to do with me?” he asked, tone warm. He waited for the inevitable recoil, because he knew that he couldn’t fuck like this, and that Jude would find the thought of touching him when he was so undone with the drink to be abominable — but that wasn’t really the point.
In the light of the streetlamps, Kieran wasn’t sure what the point was.
Languid, Kieran draped his free arm over Jude’s shoulder. ”You can’t think of anything fun to do with me?” he asked, tone warm. He waited for the inevitable recoil, because he knew that he couldn’t fuck like this, and that Jude would find the thought of touching him when he was so undone with the drink to be abominable — but that wasn’t really the point.
In the light of the streetlamps, Kieran wasn’t sure what the point was.