Not all Who Wander are Lost, But Some Want to Be (Pop)

((sorry for the slowness in starting this x.x feel free to be equally slow in replying if need be)

None of his previous forays into the city had gone well, but today was grey and threatened rain rather than punishing sun. He could handle rain. It wasn't as if he melted. He just didn't do heat. Not anymore.

He almost didn't remember why some days. That was the point, after all. He didn't want to remember, didn't want to think about it. So he didn't, and when he couldn't keep himself from it he would go and find a little assistance. Alcohol was being extremely supportive. He didn't mind leaning on a little liquid comfort.

He wasn't quite desperate for a drink right now. He wanted one, or several, but his thoughts were still skirting around the massive knot of unresolved issues sprawled in the middle of the floor of his mind. There was still space to walk; the walls hadn't closed in that far yet.

So he wandered, and kept his eye out for opportunities to distract himself without running into something else he had issues with, even if his technical eyes were still covered with sunglasses. They were always covered with sunglasses when he was anywhere near sober. Sober disliked many things. Sober also disliked being out in public altogether, but Coping wanted alcohol and distraction and he'd run out of both. So he was out on the street, with a flurry of other people trying to get something or other done before the threatening rain came down, looking for distraction and unsure of what he'd find.

@"Poptart"

@"Poptart"

Flecks of darkness might have been appearing on his shoulders now, just dark grey against the mottled grey of cheap fabric, but for someone who didn't get cold it wasn't even really worth noticing. He did notice, though, and leaned back a bit to feel the rain on his face. That was more soothing.

Soothing enough that he didn't freak out too much when he heard a voice that seemed to be addressing him. Aiden still flinched, and glanced over his shoulder. Too dramatic, too rich. He was caught up in the glass-tinted fabric alone.

Well, he'd wanted distraction, hadn't he? From things he wasn't thinking about?

"I haven't been all right in a long time," he said drily. Faintly. It was more vague recognition of his state than acceptance of what had happened. What had happened? No, no, there was still space to avoid.

"I've been worse."

So, so much worse. And never really better, even before.

@"Poptart"

He was vaguely disappointed to be covered by the umbrella. The lack of rain didn't make him overheat any more than the few drops had kept him from overheating. Vague was how he tried to keep all of his feelings anyway. Vague disappointment was fine.

His discomfort with the stranger's empathy was less vague, and featured a rather blunt wince. Aiden hadn't lost his parents in a technical sense - he knew where they were, more or less, and what they were probably doing - and they weren't the family that he was so carefully not thinking about.

But still. It made him trip too close to that pile of unmentionable stuff and he didn't like it.

"Nowhere in particular. Just... somewhere. To do something."

Something that didn't involve thinking or remembering or being.