Alright, and now here's the prompt. Enjoy your crying.
“What If Their Best Friend Died”
Devery
Best Friend; Garvin
*TW; Not actually sure what to put here. There’s a lot. Read carefully. Like, very carefully. It might be a bit graphic.*
*~*~*~*
Devery wouldn’t lie, the day had been going great. He’d gone out with Kyle and May today, enjoying the fresh air after a long week of dealing with people at the bar he tended.
-
Truth be told, the whole month had been going surprisingly smoothly. Quincy, Agni, and Kira had all got up and left a week or so ago for what Quinn called an ‘impromptu vaca with the babes’ and dragged them along. Dev wasn’t sure when they’d be back either, which was perfectly fine by him. He wasn’t sure what Kage, Sky, and Oculi were up to, or Aries for that matter, but he was pretty sure that they all had something going on. Clio was being watched over by Gall, Kyle having put him in charge before the three had left this morning.
-
Most surprising about the day, about the whole month though- Was Garvin. Because the guy had, a few months ago, been pressured into letting go of all of the habits that he held in a vice grip. And where Devery had been certain that he’d give up and go back to them as soon as July started… His friend hadn’t. Already three weeks into July and Garvin hadn’t touched a single thing.
-
Not like Devery couldn’t tell he wanted to. The first week had come and it had been harsh words and glares and pushing away with words and barely restraining from pushing away quite literally too. Barely concealed anger and clipped response or full rants and jokes that just shouldn’t have been jokes. But then it calmed down a little during the second week, though Dev wasn’t sure if that was just Garvin adjusting his mask or not. He wasn’t sure if he was really allowed to say anything though, given how much he’d helped his friend destroy himself in the past. Regardless, by the third week, Garvin seemed fine. Like he’d get through July and everything after would start looking up. Like having friends that actually cared and didn’t just let him waste was all he’d needed to get through it. So, halfway through the third week, Devery stopped keeping an eye on him as much.
-
Which everyone else seemed to have done by now too. If how Quinn, Agni, and Kira were gone was anything to go by. If Oculi, Sky, and Kage being out of the complex was anything to go by. If Aries being out and doing whatever it was he was doing was anything to go off of. If Ingall being willing to watch Clio in Kyle’s apartment without dragging Garvin with him was anything to go off of. If his significant others and him getting to spend a day out with one another was anything to go by.
-
And, in all honesty… He was glad, relieved- Fuck, he was happy, even. Something he’d assumed was long gone, something he’d never feel again other than cheap knockoffs. But things were looking up for just about everyone, it seemed. Like things were finally going to go right, were finally going to go their way. It was nice.
-
Which was why, upon returning to the apartment complex, he wasn’t really worried. There wasn’t any uneasy feeling, there wasn't any nagging feeling, nothing out of place. The three got back to the apartment complex in the afternoon, hours having been spent outside. Enjoying their weekend, enjoying each other’s company, just having a nice time together. And hours after they’d left the complex, leaving Ingall to watch over Clio in the early morning, they came back in the afternoon and made their way to Chile’s apartment.
-
It’d been planned, for a few days actually. They’d get up early, meet up at Chile’s apartment, put Ingall in charge of looking after Clio since he was the most responsible out of everyone else, leave to spend the day together, and come back later in the afternoon. Privately, this morning, while it was just him and his friend, Devery had added checking in with Garvin to make sure he’d be fine alone for the day. Like he had every day before the planned date. He’d gotten the okay each time, admittedly some of them more exasperated than others. Which was fair, since he’d been asking over and over again. But if it were a mask, if it was Garvin just trying to fake them all out, Devy wanted every chance to try and break it. But there hadn’t been any breaking, so either Garvin wasn’t faking them out or he’d been getting really good at it.
-
…Devery wasn’t a fan of how unsure he was over which was more likely, even now. But he’d decided to trust his friend, because if it wasn’t a mask then Garvin would only be upset by the lack of trust. Plus, old habits die hard, and Devery was much more inclined to just take his word and spend time with Kyle and May as planned. Like he wanted to. Frankly, he wasn’t sure if he would’ve canceled on them even if it was a mask and there had been a break.
-
So he’d decided to trust him, and the day had turned out great. Had gone on without a hitch. Walking into the complex and up the stairs with the two loves of his life, he couldn’t feel any regret. Any nagging feeling that this hadn’t been a good idea. Nothing but the calm, soothing feeling of how good the day had been. Which was so much better than the frustratingly empty pit he’d gotten so used to throughout the years.
-
They’d walked through the door into Kyle’s apartment, Chile’s talking that had become almost akin to background noise to Dev quieting to silence, as the sounds of Ingall’s flute being played for Clio picked up and carried over to them through the rooms of the apartment.
-
Devery glanced over at May and Kyle, a small smile playing at his lips, and the three walked through and into the common room. Where Clio laid at the couch, eyes bright and obviously enjoying the music. Where Ingall sat in the chair next to the couch, playing his flute.
-
Devy saw the grin on Chile’s face, heard it in the light rapping on the doorframe he always did, and heard it in his voice as the music stopped and the two looked over at the three of them, “I see you two had a good day, that’s good.”
-
Clio nodded excitedly, “Mhmm, I got Ingall to tell me a story about the stars and he played his flute for me. It was great.”
-
Ingall nodded more slowly, more casually than Clio. “That’s correct. How was your day out?”
-
Dev watched as Maya walked over, probably to start a conversation with Clio as Kyle smiled at Gall. “It went great. I am kind of hungry now from the walk back… How about I go ahead and make something for all of us? Any ideas as to what sounds good?”
-
Devery half-shrugged, an easy grin on his face, “Eh, not from me. But if you’re making food then I should go grab Garvin, no way he’d pass on food.”
-
Chile nodded, looking back at the other three to ask them as Devery turned away to leave. Privately, to himself and only ever to himself, he’d admit that he was also- Just maybe- checking in on Garvin by doing this too. Which, honestly, was admitting more than he used to. So maybe he should feel proud that he was willing to admit it to someone. Even if someone that was himself.
-
He left the apartment and walked over to his own without a word, he wasn’t too worried about Garvin. Why would he be? Garvin had told him numerous times that he’d be fine by himself for a day. With answers to Devy’s questions ranging from, ‘It’s just a day, I’ve gone longer before.’ to an exasperated, ‘Go have fun.’ From a simple, ‘I’ll be fine.’ all the way to an eye rolling, ‘Stop worrying about me, jeez.’
-
(So, Devery hadn’t been worried. Not with how well everything had been going recently. And, maybe, that was the problem. The mistake he’d made. Not being worried. Despite knowing how sly Garvin could be, and how much of a problem that can be when tied together with self-destruction. Despite knowing Garvin for years, despite knowing a few months couldn’t have fixed a decade worth of problems… Dev hadn’t been worried. Just like always, he’d decided that it wasn’t really his problem, that there wasn’t any real reason to worry. Garvin was self-destructive, but the dude also just seemed allergic to actually getting hurt. At least by any substantial amount. So he hadn’t been worried, the same mistake he had always made.)
-
(Eventually, later, long after this, when he’d actually be able to think about it… He’d wonder. How he could’ve changed it, what he could’ve done differently. The first mistake he’d fix was always how he hadn’t worried. He would’ve told someone to stay. He would’ve had Ingall drag him to Kyle’s apartment. Would’ve argued and argued with Chile until that was allowed, because Garvin was doing better, he wouldn’t do anything in front of Clio. Or he would’ve gotten in touch with Kage, maybe, make him drag Garvin along with that group. He would like to think he would’ve canceled, would’ve told May and Kyle that it wasn’t a good day for it… He knows that wouldn’t have happened though, no matter what, no matter how worried he was, he would’ve gone out that day.)
-
But either way, none of that had happened. Instead, when Devery opened the door to his apartment, ready to grab Garvin, have some light banter between them as they walked like they always did, pretend to both love and hate each other like they always did… Instead of any of that, the smell stopped him in his tracks immediately, before he’d even really processed what he saw. Because the smell was bad, but not in the sense that it wasn’t a pleasant smell. It wasn’t, that was for sure. But… But he knew the smells, and they meant something bad.
-
The smell that was most prominent was the smell of alcohol, it was an easy smell to recognize for him. It always had been, growing up the way he had. Living the way he had. He smelled it every day at work, he used to smell it every day in his apartment. He had used to, though there were still hints of it just a few days ago that would probably never come out, smell it on the clothes that Garvin had once worn at all times. (He wore the same clothes every day when they first met, hadn’t had anything else to wear, Devy hadn’t given him anything new for an entire year. He would’ve changed that too, looking back at it now. The smell would never come out now, it’d been worse that day then it had ever been before.)
-
That smell on its own wasn’t too worrying though, it could’ve just been a relapse. Frankly, Devery had been expecting one eventually, even if he was a bit frustrated that his friend hadn’t gone to anyone when he could’ve. (It should’ve been worrying on its own. He would give anything for it to have been on its own, anything to have just dealt with a relapse instead of what had actually happened. He should’ve been worried. He should’ve shown he cared.)
-
No, that smell alone wasn’t too worrying. It was the other ones that made it worrying. The second one that jumped out at him was the smell of vomit. And that one… That one was worrying. Would’ve been worrying all on its own too, even. Because Garvin basically never got sick. That man had an iron stomach. (‘Thanking the rat I ate for that.’, was what Garvin used to say, when everyone else got sick and he didn’t. Or something about the bird he’d eaten, or whatever else he’d eaten that he really shouldn’t have but had to. He shouldn’t have had to. It wasn’t fair. Garvin hadn’t deserved the shitty hand he’d been given by life. He would give anything for it to have been his own hand instead, for them to have switched cards.)
-
But it wasn’t the smell of vomit that had Devery moving before he even took in the sight of his apartment. No, it was the third smell. The smell of blood. Because that was a smell that Dev knew and one he knew never meant anything good. Especially when Garvin was involved with it. (He should’ve hidden the knives, hidden anything and everything sharp, a long time ago. He’d walked in on Garvin once, a blade to his arm and blood running down, dripping on the floor too much for it to not be too deep of a wound… He had only shut the door again, grabbed a first aid kit, set it on the floor in the room Garvin was in for when he was done, and left again. He hadn’t said anything, hadn’t done anything, hadn’t stopped him and told him how much he cared. How much he didn’t want his friend to be doing that. He should’ve. He wished that he had. But he hadn’t.)
-
As soon as the smell of blood had hit him, the smell of alcohol and vomit mixed in, Devery had moved. Had gone forward into his apartment, the door left open and forgotten, eyes sweeping and looking and searching but not really taking anything in. All his eyes really managed to process was that Garvin wasn’t in this room. Wasn’t in the common room. So his feet moved, pace brisk and feeling as if he was breathing sideways. As if the world had tilted on its axis and his lungs had followed while the rest of him didn’t, his feet stumbling in response.
-
(He’d known immediately. There hadn’t been any real denial about what had happened. Garvin had had bad episodes before, ones that had taken him to the hospital before. He’d hoped, back then, that it hadn’t been too late. He hadn’t hoped that it wasn’t what he’d known to have happened. Just that it wasn’t too late. He remembers pleading in his mind that it was like all the other times it had happened, that it wasn’t too late, that he’d managed to find his friend just in time, every nurse’s voice in the past repeating that same phrase, ‘Any later and he wouldn’t have made it.’ He should’ve gotten there earlier, should’ve come back earlier. Should’ve sent Ingall to check on him. Should’ve sent someone to check on him. He should’ve known. He should’ve been able to read his best friend better. Regardless of how good Garvin had always been at keeping shut what he didn’t want someone to know. Regardless of how good at lying, at perfecting his mask, at hiding things he didn’t want people to know about. He still should’ve known, he’d known Garvin the longest.)
-
He found his way to the bathroom, the smell stronger the closer he got. A fourth smell joining the three. Gunpowder. A smell he only knew from his work as a dealer, and from two other incidents with Garvin. (He should’ve turned tails then. Should’ve gone and gotten Chile. At that point, it was too late. At that point, he should’ve known it was too late. At that point, the only mistake to fix was him thinking he would be able to handle it on his own. He should’ve hidden his gun. Should’ve taken it with him. Should’ve gotten rid of it. Should’ve given it to Ingall or Kage or someone, just so that Garvin wouldn’t have been able to find it. He shouldn’t have wasted time hoping that it was the same as either of the last times that Garvin had been involved with that smell.)
-
Devery had tried the doorknob first, still somewhat able to realize that if it wasn’t locked then he couldn’t waste time. It had been locked though, of course it had been locked. (He should’ve removed the lock a long time ago too. Garvin had locked himself into the bathroom many times, coming out eventually looking terrible in every sense of the word. There was one time, years ago, at a different apartment complex, where Garvin had locked himself into the bathroom. Similar to right then, with the smell of blood and vomit and alcohol in the air. But with no gunpowder. Yet. He had ended up shooting the lock in order to get to Garvin back then, after all. Not willing to waste time with figuring out a different way to get in. He should’ve removed the lock at the bathroom at every apartment he ever had after that. He hadn’t… He hadn’t done a lot that he should’ve.)
-
The door was locked. The door was locked, which meant Garvin was on the other side. The door was locked and his friend was on the other side. The door was locked and the smell of blood and vomit and alcohol and gunpowder was on the other side. Was on the other side, where his best friend was. He banged a fist against the door, breath catching in his throat, in his sideways lungs, and he couldn’t see. Not really. Not well. Not with the panic that threatened to blind him fully, that threatened to fill the void that he had grown so accustomed to through the years. The void that he had only just started to fill with actual happiness, actual hope, actual everything.
-
Devery barely noticed when he yelled, practically screamed, fist still beating into the door of the bathroom, for Garvin to open the door. (He should’ve turned and gotten someone, should’ve turned and called someone, should’ve turned and given up on denial. He almost, extremely selfishly, wishes he had just turned and walked back to Chile’s apartment. Told them that Garvin wasn’t in the apartment. That his friend had probably decided to go and steal something like he so often did. That he had let someone else deal with it. Fuck, he selfishly wishes that he had let Ingall deal with it, had sent him to go ask Garvin about food, had sent Garvin’s boyfriend to go and find him.)
-
It took an embarrassingly long time of Devery banging a fist against the door, of him hitting his shoulder against it, of him just trying to get the door down and open, for him to stop. For him to just stand blankly in front of the door, staring with his breath heavy, tears already half dry on his face. He wasn’t sure when he’d started crying, or when he had stopped. All he really knew was that he couldn’t get the door down. Couldn’t get the door that was blocking him from getting to his friend down. That he couldn’t get to Garvin because he couldn’t knock down one fucking door.
-
When he had finally accepted that he couldn’t, Devery had stepped back. Had stepped back and felt inwards for his ability. For the void in his gut. He’d found it, after a few seconds, and had let it wash over him. Let it take away all of the feelings and emotions he didn’t want to have at the moment. Had allowed it to grow the void, had allowed the void to grow and consume him enough for him to be able to breathe. And when he could breathe, Devy breathed. He breathed a deep breath, stood there for a moment, shifted a bit… And then he kicked the door right next to the handle, the wood splintering and leaving a hole large enough for his hand to reach through. A trick he had learned during his years as a dealer, it was necessary sometimes. He stuck his hand through the hole and reached the lock on the other side, unlocking the door so he’d be able to get in.
-
By now, he heard the sounds of people coming to check on him. It wasn’t supposed to take this long to grab Garvin, of all people; for food, of all things. Everyone knew that. He reached out with his ability, panic wouldn’t help anyone. He didn’t want anyone to panic. He didn’t want this to be happening. He forced the emotions of whoever they were down before the growing panic he could already feel in them grew too high. He pulled his hand back through the hole and looked over at the people turning into the hallway where the bathroom was. Gall and Kyle. He doubled down on his ability, forced the emotions as far away as they could go. (He doesn’t regret that, surprisingly. Despite Chile explaining how bad it had been for him to do that. Despite how much harder it made processing everything later. He doesn’t regret that. He’s still just as selfish as he always had been and the easiness that came with his ability had helped in the moment. He hadn’t cared about the future, when he couldn’t keep his ability up. He still didn’t regret it, it was the one thing he wouldn’t change. If anything, he would’ve put his ability on sooner. It made things easier the moment it happened.)
-
He opened the door of the bathroom, eyes seeking out his friend instead of taking in the scene. Garvin wasn’t hard to find anyways, being the center of the scene. The smell was stronger in the bathroom than it had been outside the door, much stronger. (He’d wanted to turn tails then. Wanted to erase the scene from his memory. He still did, sometimes.)
-
Garvin looked absolutely terrible. Worse than terrible. He just looked bad, propped up in the corner against the wall and bathtub. There was blood on arms, his shirt, the floor, the bathtub, the toilet, even a bit on the wall. There was vomit on his shirt, the toilet, the floor, and a little on his face still. His nose had been bleeding too, it looked like. Devery’s gun was held loose in Garvin’s right hand, resting more on the side of the tub than anything else, his other one had a bloody hole in it. There were bottles on the ground, along with broken and bloody glass, and needles. (How bad had it been? How much had it hurt? What happened? What had been going through his mind? Was it planned? Was it an impulsive decision? Was it both? Neither? What happened? He still wasn’t sure. It wasn’t fair.)
-
The scene was bad. He couldn’t even begin to figure out what all had happened. The worst part though, without any doubt, with ease… The worst part of the scene was how Garvin wasn’t breathing. Had obviously not been breathing for some time already. By all means, it was too late. And Devery stood there, in the doorway of the bathroom, staring at his friend. Because he had never been a fan of denial in the face of harsh reality, and there wasn’t anything left to do. There wasn’t anything he could do. That was the hard truth. So was that he didn’t know what to do. That he didn’t know how to move forward. His ability flickered, his focus waned. He shifted all of its focus onto himself, onto keeping himself unfeeling as his focus waned and his everything fell away. It was easier to keep it on him than it was to keep it on multiple people.
-
He was vaguely aware of taking a step back, of voices in the background somewhere, of leaving the bathroom and finding his way to the common room, of himself taking a seat at his chair and leaning back. Other people were in there now, all of them with varying amounts of panic. With varying amounts of despair. He pushed himself farther into the void of his power, letting the people now in his apartment do whatever it was they were doing. He was vaguely aware of someone talking, barely able to make out the voice as Chile’s, they were discussing something that he didn’t care about. Something that he couldn’t care about, not right now.
-
(The conversation had been about how they were going to tell the rest of the group, a conversation between Kage, Kyle, and May while Oculi and Sky kept an eye on Clio, kept an eye on each other. May was slightly busy with comforting Ingall during it too, he’d had a bad reaction, apparently. In the end, Quincy, Agnar, and Akeri were the last to know. They hadn’t come back until a day or two after it had happened. Quinn ran off again immediately.)
-
The voices tampered off eventually, and he was barely aware of the people walking around his apartment. Barely aware as they started a new conversation, barely aware as they all stopped and made their way back to the common room.
-
(They’d been looking for something. A note, or letter, or something. To tell them whether or not it had been planned or whatever. They hadn’t found anything. No letter to Ingall, no note to all of them, nothing. He didn’t have the heart to tell them how little that meant in the case of Garvin, not now. Probably not ever. But he knew. He knew that Garvin wouldn’t have written a letter or note, regardless of whether or not it had been a planned thing. His friend had joked about it before, about how there wouldn’t be anything for him to write. That if he did, it’d probably just be him writing ‘Cheers’ on a random card. He should’ve stopped those jokes, should’ve shown he cared, should’ve been a better friend. He should’ve been a better person. He… He just missed his friend.)
Fall 
Day 
Fog
