Okay, not going to lie- This was supposed to be a really nice hurt/comfort short story for Ingall and Garvin. It was supposed to be mostly the, you know, Polaris Chat. The chat was supposed to be long and nice and really open/vulnerable. Then again, it was also supposed to take place while the two were stargazing. Instead, it’s during the July Arc and Garvin’s way too depressed for a long, nice, and open/vulnerable chat. So it’s a lot less Polaris Chat than I had planned originally but uh- Here you go! It has finally been done! Haha, enjoy! Hopefully Ingall is well written.
-
Polaris Chat
Prompt; No real prompt, just a conversation between Garvin and Ingall during July about stars and nicknames.
Characters; Garvin and Ingall. Devery mentioned.
Word Count; 3,500.
TWs; Depression. Lots of depression. Suicidal thoughts. Like. Way too many. A total lack of self care. Dissociation. Self-hatred, so much self-hatred. Implied drug use. Self worth issues, a lot of them. Implied self-harm. Self-depreciation. Implied internalized ableism. Just— It’s July. We know how July is with him, don’t we? Also- Messy writing and ending, oops.
Notes; It takes place during July. Some small details you can have are… I’m pretty sure getting one’s head slammed into a concrete floor repeatedly would have some serious repercussions. On a much lighter note, Ingall is the first to get a star nickname instead of just a constellation nickname. Will this actually happen? I have no idea.
*~*~*~*
He was somewhere between sleep and way too fucking awake when he heard the sound of a door opening. He couldn’t remember if Levy had left at some point or not, couldn’t remember what time it was or when the door had last opened. He didn’t really care either though. It didn’t really matter. So he didn’t bother with opening his eyes.
-
Nothing was said anyways, as feet started walking into the apartment, so it was probably Dev. He stayed where he was on the couch, legs stretched over one edge and head resting on the other, one hand hanging off the edge of the couch and the other resting on his chest, getting to feel each slow breath as it happened. It was just about the most annoying thing he’d ever had to deal with. He couldn’t find the energy to move so he wouldn’t have to deal with it though. That same reason being why his other hand was still holding a cigarette that had long managed to put itself out against his fingers. The dull pain from it had almost been nice when it had happened. Almost. But it had also reminded him to breathe again, and it’d done so right as he’d managed to forget.
-
But it didn’t matter all too much anyways. He didn’t care enough to let it go or light a new one or do just about anything but lay where he was and wish death would just show up already. He wished it would. He had his trench coat on and that was just about all he’d really ever needed to be ready for death. No one would miss him or care or— Well, Levi would notice. He was laying on his couch, after all. It’d probably take a day or two but he’d notice. And then he’d probably be pissed at him for dying on his couch, making him have to move the body and all. Fucking things up even in death… If he had the energy, he might’ve laughed. But he didn’t have the energy, so he didn’t.
-
Someone was speaking. He couldn’t tell what they were saying, just that it was someone’s voice making a sound. He couldn’t even tell whose it was. He didn’t think it mattered. It had to be Devy anyways, right? Who else would it be? Then again, Vee didn’t tend to talk to him too much as of late. Maybe he was telling him to leave? Maybe he’d finally had enough of him. It was about time, wasn’t it? Took way too damn long, fucking years. He still couldn’t focus on the voice well enough to know for sure, still couldn’t find the energy to open his eyes or get up or move at all. He wasn’t even sure when the last time he’d gotten up was. Did it matter? He doubted it.
-
What did finally catch his attention was the burned out cigarette being pulled out and away from his fingers. Levy never tended to do that. So he managed something, a sort of noise he couldn’t put a name to at the moment, just something he knew would sound at least vaguely confused. But nothing was said, or at the very least, nothing that he could hear was said. He forced himself to squint open his eyes, the ceiling greeting him with the same rough and bumpy look it always had, wisps of a faint orange in the air from whatever smoke hadn’t cleared yet from his last cigarette. He watched it move with his next breath and, moving his eyes a bit to the side, he found… Apus. Holding the old cigarette and staring at him with a look he didn’t have the energy to even try and read.
-
He didn’t look away though, too tired to move his eyes again, and just let them unfocus and make the blonde more of a blurry blob instead of anything else. One eye didn’t have very far to go for that anymore. Peak comedy, wasn’t it? He still couldn’t find the energy to laugh at it. He couldn’t find the energy to do a lot of things, it seemed. Or maybe he just couldn’t do fucking anything anymore. His hands shook more than they used to nowadays. His already shitty focus somehow seemed worse. Really, it just seemed like everything was going to shit more than ever now. Which was peak fucking comedy. Just great, right? Dandy, peachy, best damn thing ever. He was somehow a bigger fuck up than before. A bigger burden. A bigger piece of shit. And a way bigger, whole lot of worthless nothing. He felt himself breathe again, and didn’t bother with trying to hide what felt like at least a half grimace.
-
Polaris was talking. Or he thought he was, at least. He couldn’t really hear what was being said. But the blob looked like it was talking. Kind of. As much as a blob could look like it was talking, he guessed. And the sound of someone’s voice was there too, just out of reach, so… Probably talking. To his credit, he did try to figure out what was being said to him, to grasp onto Apus’ voice and actually listen to the words instead of just the sounds of them. Before he could manage to catch anything though, he was watching the blonde blob walk away. Slow and hesitant and awkward. Like he wasn’t all too sure what he was doing. Well… That made two of them, at least…
-
Fucking stars, he wished he was dead. He still wasn’t even sure why he wasn’t. How he wasn’t. He doubted he was ever meant to live as long as he had so far. So the fact that he was still breathing, feeling as a hand got pushed up and down with each damned breath he took— He wished he could just forget to breathe, wished he could just close his eyes and not have to deal with waking up again.
-
The Apus blob came back quicker than he’d expected. Right as he’d been starting to try and reach for… Something. He wasn’t actually looking at whatever he had been trying to grab. He wouldn’t have cared about what it was anyways. Still, he stopped and stared at the blurry figure that had shown back up. It took him a few moments to realize that Polaris was holding something. Or. Had been, at least. Because by the time he realized it, he was watching as whatever it was, was placed down nearby, most likely on the stand next to the couch he was laying on.
-
He stared for a second, before catching the sound of Apus speaking again and trying to listen, to figure out what was being said to him. And he managed to catch something this time, though he wasn’t sure how much he’d missed by then.
-
“…sit up?”
-
It didn’t really matter what else he’d missed anyways. Because figuring out just that made him wish he hadn’t. The words sounded fucking stupid. Soft and gentle and full to the brim with pity. As if he wanted any of it. As if he needed it. Like he’d break without it. Which— Wasn’t that just a great fucking joke? Worthless garbage makes an absolute saint worry about breaking it, as if it somehow wasn’t already just completely fucking shattered. He would have laughed if he had the energy. Or if he wasn’t aware of the eyes watching him, of Polaris still waiting for some kind of an answer. One of the two. Maybe even both.
-
He didn’t want to sit up, if he was being honest. He didn’t want to do anything, actually. He was just tired. He’d really rather be dead already. He couldn’t exactly say that though, he wasn’t too sure what would happen if he did. He didn’t feel like finding out, it seemed like a whole lot of something that he just didn’t have the energy for. So he didn’t say any of that, he just closed his eyes for a moment and started pushing himself up, ignoring the way his whole body seemed to protest the idea too. But he sat up, if only to try and get rid of the pity and fake worry and fake concern staring at him, if only because it gave him an excuse to not have to feel as his hand moved with every breath he took.
-
His sight didn’t quite agree with him sitting up either, if the spots and blurring of his vision were anything to go off of. Still, he blinked past it, forcing it to clear, at least as much as it could, and looked over at Apus. As much as he just wanted to fall back again and ignore… Well, everything, to be honest. He didn’t. So instead, he forced open his mouth and spoke, voice hoarse and feeling like it was somehow tearing up the walls of his throat. “Wha…Whaddya wan’, Polaris?”
-
He watched as Apus winced at the sound of his voice, and he was reminded that he didn’t quite know when the last time he’d drank water was. Or anything, really. He hadn’t even had the energy to deal with bottles most of the time, recently. So, really, the nausea trying to climb up and the way his head was pounding behind his eyes wasn’t all that surprising. Even so, keeping his eyes from unfocusing was a lot harder than he thought it should be. It didn’t even matter though either. Why would it? Maybe, if he was lucky, it’d kill him. He wished—
-
Polaris had grabbed whatever he’d been holding earlier again. It was easier to tell now that it was a glass of… Something. He hoped it wasn’t water, but it probably was, given who Apus was and all. He really just felt like letting himself lay back down and waiting for death to get him again… But he realized he was being talked to and probably finally getting an answer, so forced himself to actually try and make out at least some of the words.
-
“…glass of water.” The glass was held out towards him, almost hesitantly, and he wondered for a moment what would happen if he didn’t take it. If he fell back against the couch and closed his eyes or stared up at the ceiling. If he just stared at the slight movement in the glass. If he did anything except take the glass being offered to him. He couldn’t find the energy to take it anyways, not even as he watched as the pity and stupid fucking fake concern on Polaris’ face just continued to grow. As he watched Apus speak again, almost as shaky as his own hands would be if he could force them to reach for the glass of water. “Please?”
-
His eyes drifted away, looking past the glass of water and the pity staring at him. He’d really rather be dead. His eyes caught sight of a plastic bag sitting on the table behind Polaris, focused on it and the brownish powder in it. His next breath seemed heavier than the others, and he squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before opening them and pushing himself closer to the edge of the couch. Apus was still watching him, he knew, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter.
-
Polaris opening his mouth to say something seemed more annoying than he was willing to deal with though, as he started reaching for the bag with a shaky hand. So he said something first, trying to keep his voice light, trying to ignore the way it scratched his dry throat. “‘M fine, jus… Jus’ gimme a sec an’ then ‘ll drink yer damn fuckin’ water… ‘Kay?”
-
His hand, still shaking like he would never be able to get it to stop doing so, managed to close around the bag on the table. He started to pull it back towards him and stopped almost as soon as he’d started, looking over at where his sleeve had been grabbed in minor confusion. He followed the hand holding the cuff of his trench coat to Apus and stared at him, trying to ignore the pity that stared back. Trying to glare, or at least seem angrier than actually he felt. Because he really was just tired. Unfortunately for him though, if the way Polaris only seemed to soften was anything to go by, that exhaustion was the only thing that actually ended up showing on his face.
-
The hand let go of his sleeve though, as the glass of water was held out to him again and a voice began speaking to him gently. Far more gently than he deserved. And with so much more pity than he ever wanted. “Can you please drink some water first?”
-
He stared, trying not to let his eyes blur again, trying to decide if he had enough energy to argue or not. And, to be completely honest, he didn’t. It was already a struggle to not just let himself fall back into laying on the couch, to not just let himself fall onto the floor and lay there. If he was lucky, he’d end up falling on something breakable like glass and just die like that. Or he’d end up a fucking pathetic mess shaking on the ground. He didn’t have enough energy to figure out which was more likely either, to look and see if there was any glass to fall onto or not. So he settled for staring at Apus for a moment longer. Just long enough to see if Polaris would just give up about the water. And then, when he didn’t, he reached out to grab the glass of water with his empty hand, the other still clasped around the plastic bag on the table.
-
His hand was still shaking when it grabbed the glass, to his growing annoyance. But he didn’t have the energy to really think about it, so he pulled his hand back towards him and ignored the way the water sloshed around more for him than it had for Apus. The shaking was probably because of how long it’d been since he’d drank something. Or maybe it had something to do with the empty gnaw, the dull hunger in his stomach. Or, perhaps, even better, he really was just fucking broken beyond repair now.
-
Whatever the reason for it was, he ignored it as some of the water splashed over the edge of it before he finally got it close enough to drink from. And, admittedly in a hurry to be done with the look of pity and fake concern Polaris was giving him, he was quick to take a drink from it. Far quicker than he should’ve been, probably.
-
Because, for a split second, he had to fight the urge to gag, to spit the water out, to cough and splutter and try to breathe, to try and get air into his lungs instead of the water filling them up. Because, for a split second, all he felt was ice cold water burning on its way down his throat. All he felt was ice cold water burning and tearing as it found its way into his lungs. All he felt was even more ice cold water following it and keeping him from breathing, only able to take in even more ice cold water with each breath that he tried to take— That he failed to take because he was fucking drowning again—
-
But then the split seconds of panic that told him that he could be drowning again passed, and he realized that he wasn’t drowning. That it wasn’t even possible to drown on as little water as he’d tipped into his mouth. Apus hadn’t put enough water to drown on within the glass to begin with, given how that was still half of what had been in it to start with. And he’d realized, after the split seconds of panic, that the water in the glass wasn’t even near as cold as he’d thought it was either, that it was actually on the warmer side. So he finally managed to swallow the drink he’d taken from it, trying to ignore as more water spilled out of the glass because of how badly his hand was shaking. Trying to ignore the way his hand was somehow shaking even more than it had been before.
-
He couldn’t quite ignore, though, the distinct feeling of eyes on him. So he drank what was left in the glass, ignoring the twinge of panic that was still trying to drag him under as well as he could, and set the glass down on the table next to the plastic bag his other hand was still holding. He shifted back, and finally got to actually pick up the bag off of the table too. He couldn’t remember when he’d put it there to begin with, if he even had or if it’d been Levy who’d put it there. He didn’t think it really mattered all that much though. After all, no matter who put it there, he was the one holding the bag of heroin now. And it probably had been him anyway, given how Dev didn’t tend to just leave shit laying out in the open for anyone to see.
-
Either way, he pulled the plastic bag over to him and set it on the stand next to the couch, decidedly ignoring whether or not Polaris was still there watching him. He didn’t care if he was. Apus could watch him open the bag and snort the brown powder all he wanted. Maybe he’d do enough of it to finally just fucking kill himself. Maybe Polaris wouldn’t go and get Levi if he did that. Maybe he wouldn’t wake up in the hospital this time around if he did that. Maybe he’d finally get to just fucking die in peace if he did that.
-
He’d only just managed to open the bag when Apus spoke again, voice still soft and gentle but somehow not seeming as infested with pity as everything else that had been said so far. If anything, it sounded awkward, hesitant in the way Polaris always seemed during conversation anyways. It was almost casual, even, or at least almost as casual as any conversation with Apus ever was. It made him pause. “Why, um… Why do you call me ‘Polaris’?”
-
He didn’t go back to what he’d been doing. He didn’t look over or away from the open bag sitting on the stand. He didn’t say anything. For a moment, a split second, he didn’t even think or breathe or do anything at all. He stared down at the powder in the plastic bag, trying to figure out if he should answer, if he had enough energy to answer. If answering even mattered. Trying to figure out why Apus was even asking to begin with. If that mattered either.
-
Apparently he hadn’t figured it out and answered soon enough though, because before he was anywhere close, Polaris continued. “You don’t… You don’t have to answer. I just… Uh. I was just wondering because… No one else has a nickname after a star and, well, Polaris isn’t anywhere near Apus… That’s all.”
-
He huffed and, without even thinking, he said, tone almost defensive at the idea that he didn’t know where the star Polaris was compared to Apus, “I know that.” And then he paused, clearing his throat and trying not to wince at the pain doing so caused. He tried to decide if he could keep it at that. At a quick defense of what he did know. It didn’t seem fair though, not when Polaris was at least trying to hide his pity. So he shifted, trying not to think too much about the eyes watching him, and continued. “I don’ know why, musta forgot or sumthin’… I don’ know.. It don’ matter.”
-
He messed with the bit of plastic in his hand, and then stopped just as soon as he’d started, clenching that hand into a fist to stop the stupid damn fidgeting. There really wasn’t any reason for it. He blinked a few times, trying to ignore how his answer sat in his stomach. When he couldn’t, he offered up, “Pro’ly has sumthin’ ta do wit it bein’ the north star, if I had ta guess… Guess I jus’ thought it fit, s’all..”
-
Silence stretched on, and decidedly done with the conversation, he forced his focus back on the opened plastic bag in front of him on the stand next to the couch. Shifting again, he moved to make a line with the brownish powder in the bag. Whatever reason Polaris had for asking… He didn’t care. He could care about it later. Maybe. If he didn’t decide to just kill himself before then. Maybe they’d finally just let him die if he did.
Summer 
Day Weather: 
Earthquake
