Casablanca Sucked Anyway [Kait]

He'd almost forgotten Chloe was coming over.

Since he'd spent most of the week drunk and self-medicating on horse tranquilizers, Lochlann had lost track of how long it'd been since he last left his room. He was pretty certain he'd taken a trip to the liquor store and told his classmates I'm sick when they asked where he'd been.

He certainly looked like a train-wreck. There were dark circles under his eyes, his skin looked sallow, and his left-arm was a mess of bruises from where he'd missed trying to find a vein. But Lochlann did not want Chloe to see him like this, so he hurried to shower and put his apartment in a semblance of order. As usual, a shirt and shoes were not included in order, but he had sweatpants on, so he felt like he had his shit together.

He ordered pizza and would be putting the last of several bottles in the overflowing recycle bin when their normal time would come. He hoped by now she'd realize the door was open, but he'd say It's open anyway.

“Uh, I brought you some stuff. I heard you were sick.” She set the soda down by the doorway. “How much have you been drinking?”

Chloe came in with an armful of groceries and a case of soda, and at first Lochlann didn't make the connection between the stack of items and her comment. Since she'd been coming, he'd made some subtle changes to the apartment, which included having more soda and other non-booze items in the fridge, cleaning more often, and, up until today, hiding the evidence of his drinking.

Still, he couldn't lie to her, not when he was currently holding an empty bottle of tequila over a recycle bin that couldn't possibly fit any more bottles in it. He balanced it carefully on the side and took a step back, leaning against the wall.

"Not enough," he said, his voice a little hoarse. He swallowed. "And nothing today. That's from yest--before."

He'd been about to say yesterday but stopped himself. He figured that would be the end of the issue, so he moved on. "I'm okay. It's just been a bad week. Uh, I ordered pizza. I got it plain because I didn't know what kind of toppings you like."

He'd never eaten before Chloe came over before, but there was a line of something unspoken left in his voice. Please eat with me, I don't want to try and eat you.

“I like cheese pizza best anyway, so, thanks. But I… uh, I feel like you shouldn’t be drinking and eating so much if you’re sick. Are you able to keep it down?”

"That's good--I really wanted to take you there in person, but I was a little worried about asking." Lochlann said, then frowned, because he thought he'd established that he wasn't sick, just having a bad week.

“Lemme stick this under your tongue. I’m taking your temperature.” She held it out towards his mouth, with the shiny parts pointed towards him. She expected for him to open his mouth. “You’ve been out of school for a while. I've been worried.”

"I-" he started to respond when something cold and shiny was stuck under his tongue. He reached to take it out, but his bad leg started to give out and he grabbed onto the wall for support instead. He was probably not helping his case.

"I'm not sick," he said, his words a little slurred from the thermometer. The fact that she was worried made him feel like something had grabbed his stomach from the inside and exploded into butterflies. The rush of warmth to his face betrayed that he was blushing. Gods damn, she was sweet.

Lochlann had a multitude of ambivalent feelings towards Chloe. He genuinely liked her and wanted more of her in his life, but that was tempered by a huge wave of guilt over having kidnapped her and his reliance on her abilities to control his addiction. She knew his reputation, and he was doing everything in his power to not seem like he was hitting on her.

"I've been worried about you, too," he said, "Ever since that meeting with Guin, and I'm glad you're okay. I just needed some time off, I get like this sometimes after I--...after I've made a mistake."

He did have a fever, though, thanks to the damage he'd been doing to his liver. It'd been hours since his last drink, and the withdrawl was going to start soon, too. Of course, Lochlann didn't experience withdrawl because he wasn't an addict.

"Can we...can we talk?" he had a million questions for her but the most pressing, urgent one was, Are you happy here?

“…Oh.” “…Oh no.”

There it was.

Lochlann tilted his head back, his eyes closed, leaning against the wall. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

The thermometer beeped and it started him, so he took it out and set it on the table. The number was meaningless to him. While she hesitated, there was a knock at the door, and Lochlann went to pay for the pizza.

He pulled a chair out for her at his small kitchen table, and Lochlann stumbled into one across from it. He didn't open the box on the table. His face was in his hands, his fingers digging into his scalp.

Yeah…” “Sure. We can talk. What do you… what do you want to talk about?”

"You," Lochlann said, and then he looked up to see her face when he asked his question. "Chloe, are you happy here?'

“I can’t complain, I guess.”

Lochlann searched her face, looking for clues that would tell him if he should feel better or worse about her answer. But he didn't feel anything, just scrubbed out and raw.

“I mean, I had to start all over, yeah. All my family and friends are stuck in another world. I still miss a lot of them…. but on the other hand, I don’t have to deal with the genocide that was starting up in my world. Not fearing for my life is pretty neat. And I can learn magic and have a future in this world. So I’m probably happier here than I would have been back there.”

Probably. Maybe. She sounded unsure. The warm rush of melted cheese and sauce didn't stir his appetite when she took the lid off the box, but he spent a long time looking at it.

This is what he was supposed to eat.

"You're going to go places, Chloe," he said. "Anyone who spends more than a few minutes with you has to know that. You're smart, you think quickly, and I don't think I've ever seen you get stressed out about anything."

He wrung his hands.

Softly, he asked, "If there was a way to go back, would you want to?"

“Actually, that’s not totally true. About my family, I mean. I met my bio-dad here about a month ago. I never told you about him. He’s some kind of super-powerful demon, which means apparently I’m half demon after all. And… you know what? I need a drink. That’s how I’m going to describe what being his daughter is like.” She chuckled. “It beats the hell out of what you saved me from, but... yeah. Is it ok if I have beer with my pizza?

Lochlann nodded, pushing up from the table and heading to the fridge. He pulled out two bottles and set one in front of her, then returned to his seat. His hands were starting to shake, but he set the bottle down and didn't open it yet.

He played games like this sometimes. If she opens her bottle first, then it's not like he needed to open his.

"That's interesting," Lochlann said. He remembered one of their earlier conversations and said, "I guess it explains why some of the demon-magic-spells worked on you, and others didn't."

He rubbed his face in his hands again, mumbling into them, "I met a demon, the other night. At that night club. Gem-something. Gomorrah? I uh..."

Lochlann trailed off, then sighed and grabbed his beer, opening the bottle off the edge of the table. He drank half the bottle in a mouthful.