Something Good (Closed, with Irradiatedwarden)

[sumurset]

...And roars for my memories of you...


Light streamed in through the windows. One of his favorite songs was playing softly on his speakers. He groaned, knowing how many complaints he'd receive for leaving it on all night.


Jude pushed himself up with a sigh. Papers with nearly delirious scribbles covered his floor. In the corner, leaning against the wall, was a stack of paintings. His speakers were in the living room. Hence the music's quietness.





Now that I am clean, that matador is no more and is dragged from view...


Half-lidded eyes settled on a pile of empty beer cans. He must have gotten drunk the night before.


For a moment, he couldn't remember why.


Until, of course, it all came back to him.


"Why can't you just give them up? Do you know how bad those are for you? I've told you, Jude, time and time again! Just fucking quit them! I can't watch you waste your life like this."


"Oh, fuck right off, Ian. Ya don't know how bad it is. S'not like I like that I do it! I can't just drop everythin' and quit. It's not that fuckin' easy. It's hell tryna stop, and you know it!"


It had escalated from there. What started as an innocent suggestion quickly escalated into so much more. Accusations had been thrown, things were brought up.. He'd been enough of an arse to call him a "closeted I'm uncultured." At which point the doctor simply stared at him in shocked disbelief and hurt before turning and walking out of the apartment.


Jude closed his eyes. He couldn't believe himself. How could he have said such a thing? It was fucking terrible..


Rubbing his face, he slid off of the mattress and padded barefoot to the living room.


Oh something good tonight will make me forget about you for now.


He stared at the stereo for a second before hitting the switch.


Part of him ached to call Ian, but he knew it would be a mistake.


Instead, he dragged himself to the shower.


An hour later and he was parked behind the library; phone safely tucked away in his back pocket on silent.


Working didn't particularly appeal to him, but he had to. More money meant a better livelihood. The killer headache he had would just have to be ignored.


His sneakers scuffed against the asphalt as he walked towards the door.


It opened with a soft squeak. The hinges needed to be oiled, apparently.


Inside, all was quiet. The only noises came from the buzzing computer towers, fans on hyper drive thanks to the hot summer air, and the soft murmuring from various inhabitants.


Jude walked straight to the main desk and plopped down in his usual chair. He logged on to the desktop, checked his e-mails, and then busied himself with sketching.


Maybe someone would lend him a couple bucks.


He hadn't eaten breakfast.


No food in the fridge.

 

[Interstellar Bun]

He was still fuming when he woke up. Ian never did handle fights well, not when it left him feeling so sick inside. He had grown up around anger, around parents who spat cruel words at one another and doors slammed like thunder. He had never wanted to be that person, but his temper showed that he was truly his parents' son.


He was angry when he tied his shoes, grumbling to himself when he pulled his tie up close to his throat and flipped his collar down over it. Who did that punk-ass sham of an artist think he was? Ian was just trying to help him, trying to stop him from going through the same shit his patients did. Maybe he wouldn't have been so angry any other day. Maybe he wouldn't have yelled if one of them hadn't just died. God, he had been doing so good too. He should have had another decade at least, he should have had a life.


But he didn't.


And it was Ian who had called his wife, and it was Ian who heard her sob and the phone drop, and it was Ian who was left having to clear out the appointments to make space for more sad souls who would suffer the same fate, left wondering why anyone would do this to themselves.


He just didn't want Jude to be one of them. Why couldn't he see that?


When he drove, he swore liberally at the New York City traffic and hadn't even noticed that he had taken the path to go to the library. Well, fuck. He parked and waited for a long moment. It wasn't like he had an appointment to go to now, he man was dead and Ian had time to kill.


There was a click as he released his buckle and gathered the books from the back seat to return.


Stepping in, he headed straight for the circulation desk just to drop the books off. That was all he was here for. Just to return the books.


Talking about it was important, that's what he told others after all. They had to talk about their problems, their fears, they had to work through what was happening to them. But Ian, it would seem, was a hypocrite. Talking about others? That was easy. It was when he had to open up, when he had to admit he might actually be wrong that things became hard. It wasn't his fault anyway, and he was sure too damn prideful to ever bow down to that street-walker's level.

 

[sumurset]

He was too busy drawing to notice anyone approach.


Frankly, if they weren't coming up for help, he wasn't interested anyway.


On his paper, a crow was static in flight. It had been drawn from memory. They were his favorite animals, after all.


Maybe it was the hurried pace of the steps. Perhaps the frustrated huff that accompanied them.. He didn't know, but he looked up anyway.


When his gaze was met with the sight of Ian, he groaned.


Dickhead.


Of course he'd show up.


He had no plan on saying a word. Jude, unlike the other, was no hypocrite. He never told people to talk through their issues, so there was no auto-advice to ignore.


With a passive aggressive scoff, he shook his head and focused back on the drawing.


Fuck Ian.


The sod needed to just clear off. This was Jude's territory--not his.

 

[Interstellar Bun]

Fuck Jude.


This was a massive library, why did it always seem that Jude was the only one working up in the front? Why did Jude have to work today? Couldn't he have been off, well, Ian didn't know, painting or something? With a cold and impassive look, he dropped the books in the slot with a bit too much force to create quite the noise before lingering for just a moment.


Maybe some part of him had hoped that when he saw Jude, his anger would disappear, he'd be able to voice his own thoughts with better clarity. Maybe he'd be able to make Jude understand.


But that didn't happen. Anger raged within his blood, fanned by seeing the idiot who refused to listen, the idiot who was killing himself every day.


He turned away from him, then. It was this that made him decided that it was over on the ride back to the hospital. He was done with Jude, done with that idiot's life. Ian didn't need him. Ian had a handful of other friends, co-workers and former cancer patients, ones who wouldn't spit awful insults at him just because they knew he was right and didn't want to admit it. That was it. He was done. The bridge was burned and Ian had never been one for looking back.


So he'd work, instead. And when the sun set, he'd take his work home, curl up on his couch with a glass of scotch, and work his way into the evening. He needed to keep his mind busy.


He needed to swallow his anger like poison.


Fuck Jude. If he wanted to kill himself, fine.

 

[sumurset]

He seethed in his seat, watching Ian with narrowed eyes as the man exited the library.


Jude made no move to put the books back. His coworker, Abby, simply rolled her eyes and took care of it instead.


The rest of his day followed suit. He didn't do much--wasn't willing to put a lot of effort into things.


He simply stuck around.


When it was time for him to leave, he did. With the doodles he'd done tucked away into his jacket pocket, he stepped outside and pulled out a cigarette. It was lit up as soon as his ass hit the car seat.


At home, his mood didn't improve.


Grumbling, he made for the fridge: can of beer, flip on the stereo, crash on the couch.


Get drunk again.


Sounded good enough.


He didn't give a shit what the alcohol would do to his liver, or what the cigarettes would do to his lungs. Not at this point.

 

[Interstellar Bun]

Ian absently tapped on the glass of his tumbler as he flipped through his documents, the small bits of work he could take home. Outside the apartment he could hear the sounds of traffic, see the lights outside of his wall of windows though his drapes were shut. it was this mindless work, the calm silence of the scene that let him forget about his anger.


In a moment of tranquility, he didn't even think about picking up his phone when it rang.


Blindly reaching over, he sat his drink down and exchanged it for the slick black cell. Thumb swiping across the screen, he answered without looking at who would be calling him at this hour. He always assumed it was a patient in crisis, after all, they had his personal number for just that reason.


"This is Doctor Marshall."


It was how he answered every call, polite, efficient, and most importantly, professional.

 

[sumurset]

He wouldn't have done it, had he been sober. The anger was far too real while his steady mind was in control. Though, in that moment, he was far too inebriated to care. Honestly, he wasn't sure what he'd say. Jude wasn't even sure why he had called.


It had just happened.


Hearing Ian's greeting, he snorted. A drunken giggle accompanied it.


"Jesus, d'you ever stop workin'?"





His already sub-par speech was worsened by the drink. It warmed his gut, but blurred his thoughts. Speaking through it all was far more difficult that he was aware.


"What's up, Ian? You still mopin'?"

 

[Interstellar Bun]

It took every ounce of restraint he had to not throw his phone across the room or, better yet, out one of the windows. Jude sounded drunk, but he couldn't hear any noise around him so he didn't sound like he was at a bar. At least at home, he'd be safe.


Not that he cared or anything.


"I wasn't moping to start out with." His words were sharp, dropping the kind tone for something harsher. "Though, you're trying to ruin your liver as well as your lungs, I see."


Ian had tossed his papers to the side, watching them slide across his couch and spill on to his floor. Uncurling, he stretched out his legs and stood, bare feet cold on the wooden floors. He could have just hung up, but some part of him wanted to hear Jude out.


"What do you want?"

 

[sumurset]

Jude remained quiet for a moment. It stretched until it was almost uncomfortable before he answered.


"I dunno. I.. dunno."


He grew silent again. There was no other answer to give. Not that his mind was suited to process much.


"...Was just wonderin' if you're alright I guess."





The stereo was still playing softly in the background. He stared at it while listening to Ian speak.


A cigarette burned in Jude's ash tray; smoke slowly curling towards the ceiling. It was almost peaceful.


Even the slowly growing pile of beer cans by the couch seemed tranquil.

 

[Interstellar Bun]

It was Ian's turn to fall silent. He hadn't expected Jude to just talk. He hadn't expected for him to care how he was. With a sigh, he pushed his hair out of his face, absently wandering the living area as he thought, as Jude spoke. He could hear sirens outside his home flying by and he wondered if someone had gotten killed. He doubted that anyone else had those same concerns.


He sighed again.


"I'm fine. Are you?"


He didn't want to have this conversation, not while Jude was drunk, but it seemed this would be the only time they got a chance to do it. After all, they were both too stubborn to admit they had caused this. Not that Ian did, of course.

 

[sumurset]

"..No."


Jude looked at the half-empty can of beer in his hand and sighed. He was a mess. A huge mess. Ian didn't deserve to deal with his shit... Ian probably knew it, too. That's why this had all started.


"M' really sorry, mate, I.."


His eyes rolled to the side. He stared at the blank TV screen.


"That was shitty of me, what I said. I shouldn't've been such an arse."

 

[Interstellar Bun]

"If you're saying that, you must be really smashed."


There was a smile in Ian's words, it was faint, but there. Jude might have been off his rocker, but it was nice to hear those words. Ian wasn't a cold-hearted man, though he liked to act like he was. He cared. He cared too much for people, for his friends, for Jude. If it was a drunken apology that moved them past this, he'd take it.


"But, you know, thanks." There was a pause. "I'm sorry too. We were both kind of asses weren't we? I'm guessing you don't work tomorrow morning since your drunk. How 'bout I bring over some doughnuts and a few other hangover snacks and we hang out?"


It'd be interesting to see if Jude remembered any of this in the morning.

 

[sumurset]

"Don't work t'morrow or th' next day, bub. Gonna be pretty smashed fer awhile."


He chuckled at himself and chugged the last few gulps of beer before letting the can roll off onto the ground.


Jesus, he hadn't been this hammered in a while.

 

[Interstellar Bun]

"You know, I'm no doctor but I feel like that's a fairly self destructive attitude to take."


He grinned at himself, snorting slightly as he shook his head. Man, he was hilarious.


"Look, like it or not I'm going to drop by tomorrow and we're going to do something before you put yourself in a coma."

 

[sumurset]

"Ain't gonna put meself in a coma. I know my limit."





Jude rolled his eyes. When the settled, he was staring off into space.


"Yer an arsehole."

 

[Interstellar Bun]

"Yeah, I am, but I'm your asshole."


They were never meant to be friends, not really. They were from two different worlds, were complete and utter opposites of one another. And yet, it worked. Jude was, somehow, his closest friend.


"And you're going to have to deal with me, you chose to be my friend."

 

[sumurset]

He huffed a laugh at that and shook his head, though Ian couldn't see it.


"Didn't choose a damned thing, I swear. Was taken by surprise and forced into all of it! Not my fault it all happened like it did. Hell, it ain't even yer fault. Bet the fates just hate us."

 

[Interstellar Bun]

"Hate us? On the contrary the fates must love us. You can't tell me you have a better friend than me, I mean, I'm pretty great. Probably one of the best guys you'll ever meet really. You should count yourself lucky."


Ian polished off his drink and strolled to the kitchen to stow it away.

 

[sumurset]

"Someone's gettin' cocky. Damn, Ian, didn't know you thought as highly of yerself as most everyone prob'bly does."





Jude scoffed and slumped further on the couch.


He stopped responding.


That was difficult while unconscious, after all.

 

[Interstellar Bun]

"Jude please, I've always been cocky."


A pause.


"Jude?"


Ian waited for a response before finally shaking his head and ending the call. Shuffling off back to his room, he stretched out his arms and yanked his shirt off, tossing it so it fell somewhere in a corner. Well, assuming Jude was still alive, he'd be over there bright and early.

 

[sumurset]

The next day brought a rude awakening.


A throbbing headache and loud banging on the door.


Jude groaned, rolling off of the couch. A sharp pain shot through his back.


Fucking cramps.


Pushing himself up from the floor he walked over to the door and pulled it open.

 

[Interstellar Bun]

Coffee in one hand, box of doughnuts in the other, Ian waited patiently at the door. He had forgone the suit today, as buttoning a shirt was too hard for his egregious hang over, and had opted for a fitted pair of jeans and a nice forest green sweater. Hair slicked back haphazardly, he smiled when the door opened.


"Good morning sleeping beauty." Without waiting for a proper welcome, Ian strolled in.

 

[sumurset]

Jude stumbled a bit to the side as Ian pushed his way in. He huffed irritably, but said nothing.


The Oh Hellos played rather loudly from his speakers. Something about "old hearts." If he was in a better state of mind, he would have recognized it.


"Jesus--morning to you too, damn."

 

[Interstellar Bun]

He dropped the box of doughnuts on the nearest flat surface, grinning at Jude's disapproving expression. He leaned against the table and took a swig of his coffee.


"You remember what we talked about last night, right?" A brow lifted. "You know, when you admitted your undying love for me."

 

[sumurset]

Jude blanched.


Undying love?


The sod had to be fucking joking.


Turning an entirely unamused--albeit pale--face to Ian, Jude quirked a brow.


"Oh yeah? That right?"