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Quiet muffled steps were heard in the hallway, it was late at night. They were cold, dimly lighten. The psychologist walked slowly, slightly dragging his feet. You can tell wherever he was going to he wasn't liking it. Something was up..
He mumbled something under his breath, every movement making his heart rot more and more, but why?
It was love, or was it? The aching, knotting feeling in his chest was strong, tight, warm. But he hated it. Every single moment of it. But love was a basic human emotion? How could he hate it? There was something up with this, right?
Maybe, it was the person he loved,? Maybe it was how they made him feel that just made him want to sob,? Maybe it was both.
He knocked on the door.
No answer,
He knocked on the door.
No answer.
"Harley, are you in there?.."
He could hear an audible groan, he knew he was in there. But, it wasn't an annoyed groan, it was a drunken groan. Lancaster hated that noise, as if nails crawling across his own skin.
He came in the room, knowing the door wasn't locked as he looked at Harley, slumped down in his chair with a half empty bottle of vodka on his desk, the smell of alcohol filling the room, overwhelming him, reminding him of home. Lancaster winced at this sight, he hated it, hated it.
A mumbled, grumpy, yet sad grunt escaped Harley's lips, his yellow tinted eyes foggy, darting around the room, slowly dragging his feet to spin the office chair to face the man who had entered the room.
Lancaster just frowned, mumbling a soft quiet curse under his breath.
"Harley.."
It was less of a call, more of a disappoitment filled internal thought that managed to escape his lips, stating it was Harley. Shitfaced drunk again in his office.
Harley didn't respond, yet acknowledged his presence with a dart of his eyes, staring into his, just for a second. Just enough to make his hair stick up on the back of the neck, sending chills down his spine.
He hated the way Harley would look at him when drunk, he couldn't read his emotions through his foggy gaze, it made him want to lay down and rot. Just rot into the ground that consumed them every waking day.
"Harley, are you alright?.."
Another low grumble escaped him, his mouth a frown as his body, almost limp, shrugged, his dark brown brows furrowed.
He then groaned, darting his foggy eyes to the ceiling, sighing, his vision foggy from the alcohol in his body, overwhelming his senses with a calmness in his limbs, but a flood of emotion.
"Lanccccc....."
He said, as he sighed, his legs limp, lose, dragging across the cold tile floor.
Lancaster just glared, mumbling, what was he mumbling?
"Yes, Harley..?"
"Mhhh..."
Harley turned away again, dragging his feet back to not look at Lancaster, almost to avoid him, maybe it was another one of his drunk episodes where he was convinced Lanc was faking being friends with him, it was.. Something these episodes.
"Don't- Harley. Harley don't look away from me."
Just more inaudible noises, mumbles, grunts, groans.. Anything except audible words escaped his mouth. His eyes were now not just foggy, even milky.
Lancaster just stood there, he slowly approached the drunken man, looking down at the bottle of half drank alcohol.
He could hear every individual breath escaping Harley's lips, each breath coated in a thick smell of booze, it was a lot, too much even. Lancaster was used to Harley smelling like trees, pine trees. But this, everything about this situation he hated, he just wanted to puke his guts out, rip his heart out and just die, just die there.
Lanc sighed, slightly tugging at the sleeve on Harley's shoulder, trying to get him to his feet.
"Harley, get up."
His voice was soft spoken, yet demanding, you could tell in his voice he was exhausted and didn't want to be here. He just wanted to get this over with and get him up, back to his dorm and healthy.
Harley didn't budge, not even a inch. Just glaring at him for a moment, before looking away, eyeing the bottle. Lancaster followed his gaze, his brows furrowed.
"Get up."
He said again, less soft more demanding. The drunken man disobeyed, now slumping harder. Lancaster's heart rotting even more with every waking second.
It was a pathetic sight. It was almost funny, but it really wasn't. It was something they both hated. The aching pain in Harley's head from a unforgiving hangover that made him remember why he was drinking, making him spiral more and more. And the reminder Lancaster felt every time he looked at his drunk friend, he couldn't fix him, and, he hated that.
The worse thing about this is, he loved Harley, he loved Harley more than himself. And, he hated that. Lancaster hated to love, it felt... sinful.
He felt like a monster feeling love, he felt like a monster to feel.
Harley glared over at him, letting out a huff before straightening his posture to the best of his abilities, (that wasn't good at all- but an improvement none the less!.)
"That's a head start, now, try to get up, okay..?"
Lancaster almost smiled, then remembered how fucked up the situation was, his face staying resting position, leaning towards a subtle frown.
"Hm., why?"
Harley grumbled, glaring up at him. His eyes barley focused.
"It's.., really late Harley, you need to go to bed. And no, you can't go to bed here, you got to lay down."
"Mhh..."
The dreadhead finally compiled, getting up, leaning onto Lancaster with almost all his body weight, causing Lancaster to stumble a little, before getting an arm around Harley's waist, supporting him.
The ginger sighed, mumbling something under his breath, so quiet it was even inaudible to himself.
Now that Harley had enough and was finally up, it was time for the hard part. Dragging him back to his dorm.
Lancaster supported Harley to the best of his abilities, opening the door, closing it behind him and began to walk.
Harley did no effort in helping Lancaster at all, holding, no, gripping onto him, leaning with all his body weight as he grumbled and groaned into Lanc's shoulder.
Thank god it's late at night, no ones here to judge. Lancaster thought as he tried his best to ignore his drunken friend mumbling incoherent sentences into his shoulder and nook of his neck, making him get goosebumps, yet making him feel warm. Why? Why was he warm? Maybe it was due to his thick yarn sweater he'd wear everyday under his lab coat, maybe it was more. Who knows? No one would.
He tried to walk faster, desperately trying to get this over with yet something in the back of his mind was trying to push forward. A selfish thought of his touch starved desires, his mind- no- whole soul ached for this to end, to not see Harley in this state any longer, it hurt. Yet, a part of him wished to go slower, to feel Harley's presence longer even if it hurts his mind. For fucks sake, Lancaster was a desperate, broken man.
Harley, almost if he could read his mind began to hug around Lancaster, relying on the man to get him to his dorm more and more with every second,, Lancaster stiffened, heat rising to his cheeks, yet he regretted every moment of it. He wanted to rip his skin off, never feel it again. He can't love Harley it's unnatural, it's sinful. He can't love another boy, that's not how life goes he has to love a girl, you have to love a girl you faggot.
Lancaster's breath hitched, he stopped for a moment, halfway there he thought, this will be over with.
His mind was getting to him, though. He couldn't hide forever, he can't escape rot.
Before Lancaster could move again, Harley took a full hault, he began to cry. Lancaster frowned, looking down at Harley from where he was located, his face now burried into his neck, dripping warm salty tears.
Lancaster let go, just for a moment to embrace him into a hug, Harley tightly hugged back with all the strength he held in this drunken state. Harley sobbed, sobbed his eyes out into Lancaster's soft neck, but..why?
Why was he crying? Or was there no reason? Just a drunken sob session. But.., He's never had a drunken sob session. So, what was this?..
He's not your patient, Lancaster. You can't fix him, Lancaster. The shorter man thought as he grimaced at the feeling of salty tears staining his sweater, it was a disgusting texture..,wet yarn. He then remembered, they were in the middle of a dorm hallway in the middle of night., as much as Lancaster would stay there as long as Harley needed to calm down, it was unreasonable,, there's people sleeping, you know?
“Buddy,, it's time to get you back to your dorm, okay?..”
He mumbled softly, trying to part from the hug yet was met with an even tighter grasp around him. He let out a discomfort whine,, begging to at least make it to Harley's dorm without a breakout.
“Harley, can you let go? We need to get to your dorm,, please.”
He muttered, his eyes clamped shut as he stiffened at what would usually make him melt, rot into him.
Harley, hesitatly complied with a slow let go of his arms, backing up a bit just enough to Lancaster to get back in the original position they were both in before.
At that, it was time to walk again. After around five minutes they finally got to his dorm, Lanc fumbled for the key for a moment before he could finally get in, grumbling at himself for every second wasted not helping Harley.
When they finally got in, Harley immediately stumbled away from Lancaster's hold, collapsing on the couch,, sobbing.
Lancaster was close to the end of this.
None the less, he still put up the ‘worried friend that happens to be a psychologist definitely not going through the worst fucking period of his life besides growing up’, if that makes sense.
He slowly approached the drunk man, sitting down beside him lightly patting his back. He's not gonna remember any of this, Lancaster thought as he looked at his friend with a frown, it was uncanny how his expression was so,, sad.. Lanc was usually so pleasant with his expressions, but this could break him down, wear him out, turn him into a shell.
After a while, the crying stopped, silencd filled with shallow breaths and the sound of shuffling against floor. Lancaster after a moment found some painkillers, a stickynote, and a blanket. He gently layed the blanket over Harley with a soft guilty smile he shouldn't have to go through this, the ginger thought, he doesn't deserve whatever is causing this. He then scratched down a note on the blue sticky, setting it on the coffee table next to the painkillers.
“Dear Harley, please talk to me when you have the time to stating that you are well, okay. I am very worried about you and if you need to talk to me about anything please do, sincerely, Lancaster. :)”
Lancaster frowned, looking back at Harley for the finial time before he left his dorm,, he mumbled words, falling slow from his mouth like thick mud, his words laced with vile poison.
“I love you, Harley.”
Those words rotted on his tongue, leaving a horrid taste in his mouth as he immediately regretted saying them, he quickly left afterwards, going to his dorm for a good cry.