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Post by max on Mar 16, 2016 16:45:55 GMT 2
// reginald ja Aaron tänne! // It is dark. It's so dark Rene feels like he should probably be able to see in it, maybe, possibly. But he can't, not really; it's all dark in front of his eyes and he likes it, enjoys the peaceful darkness around him. Except it isn't actually all that dark; there's light there, trying to sneak in around the edges of his vision, somehow squished and flattened in a very weird way. Perhaps it has something to do with the way he's both very drunk and very high, things he shouldn't be according to the therapy session they'd had a few days ago. Well, a few days, or maybe a week - now that he thinks about it, it might have been over a week even. But it all depends on what day it is now, and he's not quite sure. Probably Wednesday though; he likes Wednesdays. It's a good day to be so yes, today must be Wednesday. That's right. But Wednesday doesn't explain the lights. They are right there, creeping in, and he squints at them. Lights are not supposed to be flat or squishy, no; lights are sharp and wide and warm and sometimes cold too, but they are not flat. Rene knows this even if he probably shouldn't, not with the level of intoxicated he is, but he does. Of course he knows lights. So he squints at them, and suddenly realizes he can't. It's not that his muscles aren't working (though he wouldn't go to court about that either), but it doesn't do anything. He can maybe feel the squint (some of it), but his vision doesn't change. Huh. Weird. That's why he ends up moving. Rene squirms, does his best to take a step forward to maybe walk away from this very dark area, but his legs won't let him. They don't want to move forward at all; in fact, they seem much more content to simply stay still. So he tries again. And again. And four feeble attempts later he huffs and gives in. Silly legs. Alright then, stay there. He won't need them to move, he can't always... feel around. And as he starts to flail around blindly, his arm comes away from his face and all the light suddenly assaults his eyes. It's sharp then, but it's not very bright, and it's crackling, like in a disco. This is no disco though, but something different. He's outside, Rene knows as much. It would probably be cold too if he wasn't so very drunk, but now it's just very pleasant. The lights aren't exactly nice though, and they're right there, at his eye level. For a moment he simply marvels at the strange fact that this part of town apparently plants their street light at eye level. How nice of them, though not very practical, except maybe for dwarves. Rene smiles a moment at the idea of dwarves and streetlights, and then decides to really, really walk. He's sure he should be somewhere, but he's not sure where, and that's when it hits him. The reason for why he couldn't walk, why his legs wouldn't move forward is because forward wouldn't have been forward at all, but up, and the streetlights are actually above him, and he's laying on his back. Ah. Well then. That would explain it. Rene hums, a drunken gurgling sound deep in his throat, and tries to get up. He tires once, twice, and only then realizes that he can't exactly move. "Ohhh, f-ffuck", the drunken man slurs right before the shivers kick in. They run down his spine all the way to his bum before going back up again, and this time they are much worse. They hit him like his own little personal earthquake (he knows how it feels, he went to an earthquake simulator once he was a kid), his teeth chattering and his entire body shaking so hard he fears he'll start making a hole in the ground. For a short moment the tremors subside and he makes another attempt at getting up. Again, it doesn't work. But the shivers do come back, and as Rene thinks he's probably going to die his hip hits something hard on the ground. "Fffuuuuck...", spills out of his lips as he tries to grasp the offending object that's making his death very unpleasant, and finds himself holding his phone. It's on, lights dim even in the darkness, and he hits a random button on the speed dial. He may be dying, but the concept of dying alone doesn't sound very nice at all. Which is exactly the reason for why he hits the green button on the phone and dials out a call, doesn't even wait for it to go through before starting up talking. "Heyyy, hey, Aaron, hey, it's me, yeah? You know, Rene-me, your favorrrrite pa-tient, or at least a patient, and I think I'm dying, so-" The phone falls from his shaking fingers back to the ground and drags another string of curses from his trembling lips as he fumbles to pick up the phone again and get it back to his ear. "Sorry 'bout that, dropped this damn blibber, slippery fucker you know... kinda chilly too, though I can't really feellit soooo is fine, so nice. But yeah, so I'm dy-ying, see, and you r-r-really gotta take care o' Martha f'r me, yeah? She'll be sossad, I'm so sorry..."
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Post by reginald on Mar 16, 2016 23:33:10 GMT 2
Aaron wakes up.
It's two o'clock at night and he's probably got only one hour of sleep in. Yesterday having been completely normal for him and his routine, he had worked 'til late and gone to bed at midnight, sparing meager 45 minutes of his night time for one episode of Ancient Aliens. His work normally starts at eight and he wakes up at seven at the latest, and with six hours of solid sleep he can go through the day nicely enough.
Seems like that won't be the case now. The source of Aaron's doom comes somewhere from his left and he opens his eyes rather reluctantly.
He's disoriented for about three seconds before he's scrambling to reach his work phone ringing on the night stand, next to his personal one. Squinting tiredly at the screen he reads the caller id and almost sighs. The name there is not exactly surprising him at this point anymore. It's not the first time this has happened and it probably won't be the last.
Aaron hopes that one day, it would be the last time. In the lines of 'this man has gotten his life together and no longer needs me', because he really hates losing his patients to anything other than, well, getting them better so they won't need the help anymore. But as it stands, he's needed right now, and he really hopes Rene isn't calling him because he dropped the plastic fern, -sorry, Martha again and there's a better reason for waking him up at night.
It could be anything really, you can never be sure. That's the reason his work phone stays turned on every night and that's the reason he really can't afford to be annoyed right now. Aaron knows he's going to have a shit day at work anyway with his sleep interrupted, so it doesn't matter if he needs to just reassure the man on the other side of the line or if he needs to actually get his ass out of bed and, more than likely, to Brickston in the middle of the night for something more serious.
Now that would be interesting. It's been awhile since his last nightly visit to the worst part of the city. Of course there's always the chance that Rene has found his way to the old town or even Darlington, somehow. High Peak is not exactly off limits either, but he doubts he'd ever find the man from there. Of course, there's always the chance that Rene just wants to... talk.
Just to be sure, Aaron flicks the bedside lamp on and proceeds to map out the clothes he has piled on the floor. His bag for work is unpacked from yesterday, he always packs in the morning, and it'd be too conspicuous to carry around at night in Brickston anyway. He should just pocket his keys, very little amount of money and a couple of single journey tickets for the subway. His mind works fast even if he's sleepy.
He stands up, one hand rubbing the sleep from his eyes and the other ready to answer the call, and when he finally presses the button there's already a slew of speech going on next to his ear before he can even say 'hello'.
It's the basic Rene-speak from what he can gather. High or drunk, possibly both. Oh lord. The man sounds positively wasted and the content of his words is concerning, and at least he now knows that Rene is somewhere outside. And that, that could be bad.
Quick decisions and quick movements, Aaron's pulling one-handedly at the first pair of pants he finds next to the bed, trying to edge them past his hips and eyeing his desk for the location of his keys.
"Okay Rene, it's me Aaron here," he says once the man on the other side eases up a bit. He's full on work-mode despite the tiredness still nagging at him, all calm and with a collected voice. "I really need you to listen to me and calm down, I'm sure Martha will be fine. You just need to tell me where you are and what you're doing. Can you do that?"
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Post by max on Mar 17, 2016 4:09:18 GMT 2
It takes Rene a considerable amount of time to realize that Aaron has, in fact, picked up and that he isn't talking to just voice mail or something equally ridiculous. Therefore it's mostly surprise that actually quiets him down long enough for him to listen to Aaron talking, and the mention of Martha has his lips pulling up into a small but happy smile. Martha will be fine. That's what Aaron said, and Aaron tends to be right. To an annoying amount really, at times, but it's nice to have someone in his life who knows how things should go. So listening to Aaron sounds like a good idea, and Rene does just that.
Except just listening isn't enough. Aaron asks him a question, and like most questions usually do, it needs an answer. Rene just doesn't really want to give one because really, it's weird, and he can't talk that well, not with his teeth chattering like crazy and the way he can hardly hold his phone. He ends up murmuring something incoherent into the weird device before dropping it on the ground. It takes him a while, forcing his body to roll over despite all the shaking and shuddering but he manages, eventually, and squeezes the phone in between the pavement and his ear.
It really is the most uncomfortable pillow he's ever had, maybe after one particularly nasty pebble had the misfortune to sleep with a year or so back.
"See I alrrr'dy told you, can't help it if y-you're not l-l-listening", he starts with a huff that would sound irritated if even that little sound didn't shake so much.
"Told you 'm d-dying, somewhere, I ain't sure, m-maybe in... on the p-pavement?" Looking around doesn't exactly help but he tries anyway, just squints at the street light across the road as if they could actually tell him where exactly he is.
"Yeah, deff'nitely on street, outside. That's where I am." Somehow Rene manages to sound perfectly proud about that little fact and not mind it at all that he's supposed to be dying instead of explaining himself to some funny therapist. "Ssso not comfy, t-this phoon I 'ave... Not very g-good pil-low."
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Post by reginald on Mar 19, 2016 18:36:52 GMT 2
Aaron listens, again, mentally sighing at the situation currently going on on the other side. He gets his pants on finally, and contemplates putting the phone on speaker. Operating one-handedly wins in the end, Rene's speech hard to comprehend even right next to his ear. He doesn't sound exactly suicidal, just resigned to whatever the fate has brought to him now, so Aaron keeps his calm.
His tiredness is crumbling in tiny specks and as he tries to worm his arms into a beige collar shirt, he thinks about finishing the job with one of the emergency energy drinks he keeps in a cupboard above his microwave. He hates the taste of those and they make him even more irritable, but right now he feels like he really needs one before going anywhere outside.
"Rene, I need you to try and focus. I'm listening as best as I can," Aaron tells him, his mind going over the possible tracking apps available. He's nothing if not resourceful. He tries his luck with the other man again.
"Can you remember any landmarks, street names, anything? A corner store or a subway station?" Even if Rene doesn't remember anything, which unfortunately is more than possible, he wants the man to stay conscious. It's cold outside and Aaron is positive that he still hasn't gotten himself a suitable coat for the weather. Succumbing to the numbing cold and hypothermia is very much an option.
He's done fumbling with whatever last pieces of clothing he needs to head out of the house, so he sets up to finding his keys and money. "I know that it'd probably feel really nice to just close your eyes and sleep, but I don't want you to vanish out there tonight," he says, sincere. "Excuse me if it's a selfish thing to want. But remember, you need to water Martha tomorrow. She likes your voice much better anyway." He's not a psychiatrist, he doesn't do that kind of therapy much, but he's really trying here.
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Post by max on Mar 20, 2016 11:30:57 GMT 2
Aaron sure likes his questions.
Rene has known that for a while; it's like they're all the therapist has. An endless pot of questions upon questions and then some more when Rene manages to answer the first ones. It's such a bother really, at times. At others he quite likes answering them - they're good questions after all. But right now? He isn't exactly fond of them. Aaron keeps asking more and Rene just grumbles something incomprehensible into the phone, a noise between a weird gurgle and a groan as he tries to fiddle with his position, find a better one to be laying on the ground on.
"There'sstreets", he states very helpfully, because that much is at least true. He's lying on one, he would know. "Pavement 'n'... stuff..." He squints at the street lights, at the buildings around. From where he's staying, he can't see all that much, but hey, at least he's trying. He wouldn't if it was anyone but Aaron asking, but he likes making Aaron happy, so he's really doing his best.
"There's a... a... thing", Rene settles with finally when he can't exactly make out the name in the sign above a shop across the street. "Lemme... I'll go see", he decides firmly and again fights the overwhelming lethargy in his joints. It just goes nowhere, and after a good while of attempting to move with all kinds of grunts and murmurs he sighs, sad and resigned to his fate.
"'m sorrey", the drunken man huffs apologetically, still on the ground. The struggle did do some good though, his eyes are working a little better, and he squints at the building again. "Is a... Says 'Mary's' above the doorrr... Or mmmaybe 'Macy's'? Can't tell... Shame it isn' Martha's, that'b be nice, she'd llike tha'... Can't leave Marrrtha, no, would you be sad 'ff I died now?"
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Post by reginald on Mar 30, 2016 16:19:07 GMT 2
Rene keeps talking and it's a good thing. Aaron finds his keys and as he's stuffing them into his pocket, a pair of earphones laying on the table catches his attention. Well, isn't that convenient. He really needs that energy drink before going if he's still sleepy enough to forget the existence of earphones. He's probably going to be up until the morning anyway.
He plugs them in and waits for Rene to continue talking before tapping anything else on the phone screen. The last thing he needs is to accidentally disconnect the call.
"You're doing well," Aaron says and he's not sure if it's more to reassure himself or Rene. "While you're at it, you could try counting all the street lamps you can see. That'd be useful." Useful for Rene to have something to focus on and not pass out.
'Pavement' or 'streets' isn't anything that helps Aaron now and he knew that even before asking. It's sort of sudden and unexpected when Rene mentions something that could be useful if none of the tracking apps work. There's a local supermarket chain that has shops all over the districts of the city. Aaron taps away on his phone then, putting up a search in the mobile browser and checking whether the apps are any good. He walks briskly into the kitchen, grabbing a drink with the most sugar content from his energy snack stash. That should keep his brain going.
There's a blanket draped over one of his kitchen chairs. It's there for when he stays up late writing reports on his laptop, a mug of warm drink next to it on the table. The occasional chill can get through the walls even in Darlington's apartment buildings, and being wrapped up in warm fleece is a small, nice comfort. He folds the blanket carefully into a flat bundle, easy to place on the bottom of his not-so-conspicuous bag and thinks about the follow-up of Rene's location reveal.
"Of course I'd be sad if you died," he says matter of factly. "So try not to die now, because I have something for you and I'm coming over to bring it." Bag packed, all five addresses of Macy's' blinking ready on his browser and his jacket half on, he's almost ready to defy the night.
"One more important question Rene," Aaron says with all the intensity he can muster. "Can I assume that you're currently in Brickston?"
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Post by max on Mar 30, 2016 16:49:13 GMT 2
Being praised feels good. Really good, actually, and not quite like he's about to die on the cold pavement. Because it's actually getting cold now. Earlier it was better, a little chilly maybe, but mostly warm with all the alcohol and other substances keeping him warm from within. But the longer Rene lies still, the colder it's starting to get. He reaches out with his free hand, places his palm on the pavement and feels it out, cold biting into his skin in an instant. It makes him wince and jolt, though the movement is so subdued it's barely there and he sighs, feeling sort of defeated. But wait, he shouldn't, not with Aaron praising him. Cause he's doing well... right?
"Okay", he agrees softly, squinting at the streetlights. Counting is kinda hard, what with the lights floating around in strange circles that don't really make sense to him at all, but Rene tries anyway. He has to count out loud too, the numbers pouring out of his lips in a jumbled mess that doesn't really make any sense even to the man himself. He counts until he can't anymore, both because his head is filled with floating numbers and because he can't see any more lamps and also because Aaron is talking again.
He forgets about the lights in an instant.
"Oooh, a present?" the man asks, a hopeful tilt to his voice. He doesn't get presents very often, but when he does, they are the absolute best. Most of the presents he ever gets come from Aaron, or Back on Track, the Organization as he likes to call it (it sounds cooler like that), and they've all been so nice. Nice, though not a lot of fun. But he supposes he can live with that. "Is i'llike... a drrrinking present?" Rene inquiries with the same momentarily rather cheerful tone and then stops as something lurches really unpleasantly in his stomach.
Oh, crap. He hates throwing up while lying down.
"Brricks'n, yes, sorry", the man mumbles before dropping the phone. The call stays connected, the light of the screen almost violently bright in the darkness that blurs in his eyes and he rolls over. It's mostly a spike of panic that lends him enough strength to push himself off the ground, just a little, before he's retching violently, emptying his stomach onto the pavement with a series of coughs that end with painful dry heaving that has Rene bending almost in half.
It smells disgusting. So does his mouth, and he rolls away from the puddle as fast as he can (which isn't all that fast at all), reaches blindly for his phone. The good thing in all this is that at least he didn't get any puke on himself. It's always so very gross.
"Sick smells bad", Rene mumbles into the backside of the phone before realizing he should probably flip it, and then shifts a little, lying on his back this time. He feels a bit more sober then, sober but sharply cold, the chill digging all the way to his bones through the poor clothing and he sighs, eyes closed, phone still pressed to his ear. "'s really cold", he keeps going, voice quieter now, weak and raspy rather than sleepy. "There's a fliggerin' light... Like a disco." The lights keep going on and off even behind his eyelids, something that's making his head hurt even now, and Rene tries to rub his eyes with his free hand. It doesn't really help, only makes it hurt worse as he rubs the dusty hand over his skin. Well, fuck.
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Post by reginald on Apr 1, 2016 0:45:50 GMT 2
He should get a car. The roads are in decently good shape even with the city budget gone down the drain during the war and the car sales are blooming, as much on the illegal side as on the legal one. It's the gas prices that are definitely not decent and the subway is quick enough on good days, so much that there's no really need to spend ridiculous amounts of money on car maintenance. Aaron wonders when the day will come when it won't be quick enough anymore.
The sound of Rene counting the lights brings him back to here and now.
"Not a drinking present but you could, uh, use it while drinking. I'd advice against the drinking of course, as always, but you've heard that from me more than enough already," Aaron says and mentally bids goodbye to his favorite blanket. It's something you can always replace with a new one and this one is (hopefully, if he makes it, he will) going to someone who needs it. The man sounds delighted about the prospect of a present and Aaron makes an impatient tap with his foot, needing the confirmation of whether to take the Brickston subway or something else entirely.
He frowns when the drunken syllables reach his ears, the sound of retching very clear even when the phone thumps on the ground. He makes a beeline from his hallway to the fridge to get a bottle of clear water, stuffing it hastily in his bag while finally charging out of his apartment. Why didn't he think to pack water in the first place is beyond him, and he blames the late night run of Ancient Aliens for the second time since he got woken up by Rene's call. Aaron starts his jog to the nearest subway station with a contained pace to serve his energy, and it's yet again one of the moments in his life when he contemplates his career choices, even if very briefly.
Rene's voice talking closer to the phone now is a small relief. After having to listen to the other man heave and gag, he wonders if it's some sort of reflex some chosen few alcoholics develop, to at least have the mind to not throw up on yourself. Then again, he thinks back on the multiple times he's seen Rene with some sort of yuck on his shirt or jacket and he shakes his head.
"I'm soon at the subway," Aaron pants at the phone. "Shouldn't take too long to get to you if I don't mess up with the lines." Rene sounds weaker. He just needs to hold on for ten more minutes if the subway schedules aren't lying. There's big letters telling the station name on the building in front of Aaron and he wrenches a ticket out from his pocket in advance.
"What would you like to do next week?" he continues saying, needs to keep talking for Rene's sake. He runs through the gates and then he's going down underground. "You know, we could check the donation centers for a new jacket for you."
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Post by max on Apr 1, 2016 11:38:03 GMT 2
Maybe the call to Aaron actually was one of his better ideas.
Right now, it's the only thing that's taking his mind off the fact that he's cold and shaking and there's a puddle of vomit far too close to his head to his liking, and he sort of just wants to go to sleep and wake up feeling better. He wants that a lot, actually. At least when he's asleep he's warm, there's none of this bone-biting freezing chill that keeps crawling deeper into him. Funny thing he should sweat when he's this cold, but it just somehow happens. His forehead feels clammy and his clothes cling to his skin, and Rene both wants out of them and to wear more at the same time.
"You sound funny", he ends up pointing out when the struggle with clothing becomes too much. "'Rrre you running? A weirrd time to run." There's a frown on Rene's face as he thinks about it, about all those weird people who always seem to be running around the city with no place to be, no destination to go to. They just run, like those people on the tv who run miles and miles and only because they apparently like it. It really is weird.
It's too bad Aaron keeps talking. It gets really hard to concentrate on both the idea of somebody just running around and Aaron talking, and as always, Rene ends up going with the latter. He always does. Aaron has a nice voice and he says very smart things, it does him good to listen to the man. Yep. "Next week?" Rene drawls, thoughtful, a little cheered up by the idea even. He's prepared to think about it, even if thinking so far ahead tends to give him a headache, but then Aaron mentions a jacket and a strange hybrid sound between a whine and a gurgle escapes Rene's lips.
"I 'unno", the man mumbles, evasive, guilt biting off half is heart (or at least that's how he feels about it). He shifts on the gravel, can't really even feel his legs anymore and it really is annoying because he still wants to get up and maybe find himself a bench. Or a piece of cardboard, or newspaper. Or maybe even a large open dry dumpster, they can serve as fine little cottages in a dire need.
"I, umm, mmmaybe... cooking?" Rene suggests then, the first thing that comes to mind. It's a bad idea; his stomach lurches again and he gags, though this time nothing comes up and he ends up coughing pitifully. Even his nose is running; whether it's from the cold or the crack he inhaled earlier the day he can't tell. Doesn't really even want to. Not like he even has the energy to think really, not with the still flickering lights and the headache and another rather pathetic sound that seems very content leaving his throat.
"I did somethin' bad..." The confession sounds like it's dragged forcefully out of him, reluctant and sad both at the same time. Shame, that's what it is, coloring his voice and all f him really, the feeling of being ashamed of himself. Rene hates it, can hardly bear it, but he knows he has to tell; Aaron deserves to know. Even if it means Rene has failed them both again.
Hitting himself doesn't sound like a bad idea. Rene tries, but his hands won't move the way he wants them to, so he settles with banging his head against the pavement. Once, because it hurts and his head was already hurting before. "Oww..."
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