Page 59 of Addicted

For the first time in three years things were starting to go well for Liam, so well that he was guarded, not letting the fact that Owen wanted to be with him fully register in his heart and mind. Owen confessing his feelings was the fulfillment of a long-held fantasy, and it had begun to heal Liam, washing away some of the grief, but it wasn’t a complete fix. Liam still missed his parents, he still had trouble navigating life, and he was still an addict. But, with Owen’s presence, Liam believed that he could fix himself. He had to, for he wasn’t a catch. If Owen saw him as he was right now - standing in his kitchen about to take a double dose of Vicodin - he’d rethink his feelings and bail immediately.

Flicking his eyes to his phone, which sat on the counter in front of him, Liam frowned. Still no response. That wasn’t good at all. Owen’s court date was yesterday and when a busy afternoon at The Pointe flew by without a celebratory text or call, Liam knew that Owen had lost custody. He’d racked his brain trying to figure out what to do and realized that if he’d even wanted to stop by and offer support, he didn’t know where Owen lived. He’d eventually settled on calling, but since Owen’s phone went straight to voicemail and Liam didn’t want to leave a stammering message he’d ended up texting.

Thinking of you. Please call me when you can.The heart emoji at the end couldn’t begin to encapsulate everything Liam had been feeling at that moment - all the worry and frustration on Owen’s behalf, all the support he’d wanted to give.

So, Liam found himself standing in front of the faded counter that separated his kitchen from the rest of his apartment, contemplating an extra pill. It was the worst idea. He’d woken up feeling dizzy, strange, and his weigh-in showed that he’d dropped a few pounds since starting the higher dosage. But he needed a present for Owen’s birthday party tomorrow, something meaningful that conveyed how much Liam cared, and it could only be found in the boxes from his childhood home. He hadn’t gone through them in months, not since he’d cried all night over a photo, and he doubted he’d have a better reaction today. Liam knew what he wanted but not where it was, so he had no idea how many boxes he’d need to go through, and that promised an assault of memories that terrified him.

One pill wasn’t going to do it, that would only make him comfortable but not brave enough to look through his parents’ belongings. For that, he’d need to double down.

Sighing, Liam swallowed the two pills dry and considered sending Owen another text. Was that too pushy? Or did Owen need to know that Liam cared? Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to take a call or type once the high took over he headed for the shower instead.

He scrubbed until his skin was pink and sore, lingering in the stall until the hot water ran out. As he dried off, he felt the lift of the pills rushing in. They spun him up faster than usual, much faster, and he stumbled, grabbing the edge of the sink before he cracked his head on it. The room tilted precariously and he knew he couldn’t walk, so he dropped to his hands and knees, crawling naked out of the bathroom to his dresser. Pulling out sweats and a t-shirt, he managed to get them on before the full force of the drugs hit him like a sledgehammer. Suddenly he was a tangle of limbs on the floor, spinning higher and higher, past the clouds, up into the stratosphere, all the negativity inside of him melting away.

His body tingled and he giggled in response, studying the ceiling. He wanted to run his hands over it. Reaching out, he tried to touch it but, dammit, his arms weren’t long enough!

He giggled again. Imagine if people had long arms? And they could pull them out like a tape measure? His laughter echoed off the bare walls of his apartment as he howled at the images that flitted through his head. Marci clearing tables from far away, arms snapping back as she put glasses in the bin. Dylan with piles and piles of tablecloths as far as the eye could see. Owen reaching-

Owen. Liam stilled, that name bringing everything back into focus. Liam had a job to do. He had to get a present for Owen. Because he wanted to make Owen smile, to see Owen happy. Because he loved Owen.

Giddiness rushed through Liam and he rolled from side to side, laughter spilling out of him once more. The motion smeared his bangs across his face and he stilled, wiping them away. They were far too long, always hanging in his eyes and…

And what was he doing? He couldn’t remember so he went back to lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. He felt so good, so relaxed and hopeful. Everything was promise, like the first warm breeze of spring. He could do anything.

Wait. He did have to dosomething. The newly-recognized urgency clamored in his chest, telling him he was right. If only he could figure out what it was…

Looking around the apartment for clues, his eyes settled on the short hallway with that bad door at the end, and his buoyancy turned to lead.

He had to get Owen’s birthday gift. In there. That was going to be hard.

Clinging to the mattress, Liam got to his feet but he swayed far too much for walking. Back to crawling it was.

It took tremendous effort. The more he moved down the hall, the longer it seemed, and once he reached the door it loomed over him as he sat in front of it. He could hear the grief bleating in his head but it was dimmed, unable to get through the fluffy barrier he’d erected.

His hand shook as he reached for the doorknob. He was about to see everything he’d lost in full Technicolor, all the memories, even the ones he’d mercifully forgotten. Stilling, Liam stared unseeing at the round metal knob, his mind replaying Owen looking at a photo on his phone, a mournful expression on his face. Owen with his head in his hands, thinking he’d failed. Owen, who asked Liam how he was doing every day, who brought him his favorite lunches, who told silly jokes, who had a strong shoulder to cry on and stronger feelings for Liam.

Owen, who was beautiful, kind, talented, and everything Liam had ever wanted in a man, for as long as he could remember.

Owen was worth this.

Turning his hand, Liam opened the door.

The next morning Liam tried to slip into The Pointe without being seen. Running late and still not fit for human contact, he cut across the back parking lot, using the side door and hoping that he could get to the storage room and breathe for a while before anyone attempted to talk to him.

A new waiter and one of Angelo’s assistants passed him on the stairs without a word and he thought he was golden until he turned onto the last flight and ran straight into Dylan.

“Hey, man! How ya doin’?” Shifting the folding chairs he was carrying into one hand, he held the other up for a high-five.

Grunting, Liam lightly slapped Dylan’s palm, trying to squeeze past him on the stairwell.

“Yo, I think Marci wants to talk to you,” Dylan warned, and Liam must’ve made a face because Dylan threw his head back with a laugh that echoed way too loudly in the stairwell. “Oh man, I feel that!” He squinted at Liam. “Tied one on last night huh?”

“…yeah” He must look pretty worn if Dylan was commenting on it. The ridiculous amount of Vicodin he’d taken had temporarily suffocated his grief, but it also left him haggard and shaky. His sleep had been restless, filled with strange dreams and he had woken in a pool of sweat, barely managing to choke down another pill and take a shower before he had to rush off to work. It was going to be a long day.

“I’ll distract Marci for you but I can only hold her for so long. She’s got the strength of ten men!” Dylan chuckled as he continued down the stairs. “Laters!”

“Thanks,” Liam murmured but Dylan was already out of sight.

True to his word, Dylan kept Marci from bothering Liam for at least an hour, which gave him enough time to hide in the storage room until his morning dosage made a weak appearance, and then in the men’s room where he freshened up. He forced down a protein bar he’d had in his backpack and by the time he tiptoed into his office, he was slightly more ready to face the world. And Owen.

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