Don Juan looked at Hudson, thinking. Sobriety is awful when you're not here, was one thing he could say to Hudson, if he wasn't going to remember it. He wouldn't have said it to him sober, for all that it was true, because he wouldn't have wanted to make Hudson feel guilty. It wasn't Hudson's fault that Don Juan had been out of his mind for six weeks after their last conversation. It wasn't his fault that was the only way Don Juan had felt like he could survive it. It wouldn't be his fault when Don Juan kept dipping back into the same vices for the coming weeks, months, years, however long his sorry little life carried him. He didn't want to make Hudson shoulder that, like if only he'd stayed anything would be different. Nothing would have been different; Hudson just would've had a front row seat to it all.
He could have said: You don't have to do this. I'm not worth drinking over. The same sorts of reasons he wouldn't have said it to Dean on a normal day: too much self-pitying bullshit, no responsibility for anything that had happened. Nothing Hudson could respond with that would be productive for either of them, nothing that would make him feel any better.
The most dangerous thing to say: If I got sober, would you take me back? Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. Too dangerous to be thought, let alone said, no matter what state Hudson was in. It was the thing he wanted to ask the most, because he wanted to hear yes; he wanted to cling to that yes even if he knew it would never actually happen. And dangerous, because he shouldn't let himself have that hope when it was impossible. He certainly could never risk giving Hudson that kind of hope. But if he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Hudson wouldn't remember this, maybe he would ask, looking for the affirmation. Looking for the I love you, even if it was only spoken between the words.
"Yeah, it was," was what he eventually said, with a resigned sigh. "Goodbye, Hudson."
He could have said: You don't have to do this. I'm not worth drinking over. The same sorts of reasons he wouldn't have said it to Dean on a normal day: too much self-pitying bullshit, no responsibility for anything that had happened. Nothing Hudson could respond with that would be productive for either of them, nothing that would make him feel any better.
The most dangerous thing to say: If I got sober, would you take me back? Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous. Too dangerous to be thought, let alone said, no matter what state Hudson was in. It was the thing he wanted to ask the most, because he wanted to hear yes; he wanted to cling to that yes even if he knew it would never actually happen. And dangerous, because he shouldn't let himself have that hope when it was impossible. He certainly could never risk giving Hudson that kind of hope. But if he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Hudson wouldn't remember this, maybe he would ask, looking for the affirmation. Looking for the I love you, even if it was only spoken between the words.
"Yeah, it was," was what he eventually said, with a resigned sigh. "Goodbye, Hudson."
![[Image: 0hYxCaj.png]](https://i.imgur.com/0hYxCaj.png)
MJ made this <3