Work Text:
Bruno took a day off. He drove to the coast, to an unpopulated rocky beach that he knew well. He sat and watched the push and pull of the water, how the sea foam clung to small stones before being washed away. He kept his cell phone on, just in case.
"I don't think I'm doing so well." His words were wiped away by the wind as they left his lips. No one could hear him here. He could hardly even hear himself. All the better to convince himself to speak.
"I don't need help. I can handle it. I just need to talk, even if they never hear it. It's better that they don't. They have their own issues to deal with, after all."
He could do it on his own. He had to.
“It’s been… It’s been a lot lately. The team needs more support than ever and it’s hard, because I’m struggling, too. But they can’t know that. Of course they can’t. I need to be steady for them, a pillar of support, a solid leader. A good parent, basically.”
It felt ridiculous to say out loud that he was a parent to his own little sect of Passione, but at the same time it felt right.
“I know I’m not their parent. But what other option do they have? What other option do I have? I brought them into this lifestyle. I’m responsible for them. They deserve so much more than what I have to offer, but at the very least I can support them. Even if I can’t always keep them safe.”
He couldn't fix what brought them here. Pasts can't be mended in the way words can't be unspoken once someone hears them. These broken people were his, though. He could at least soothe the pain.
“I have to. I have to take care of them. Not just for their sake, but for mine. Helping other people is the only thing that makes me feel in control. I can’t fix my own issues. I think my struggles just may be beyond helping, or beyond deserving it. If I give my loved ones what they need, though, then none of that matters. It’s worth it. It’s worth it, and I’m enough.”
His voice cracked at the last syllable, but no one was here to judge but himself. It was comforting to feel so small sometimes, with the ocean so loud and stretched endlessly large before him. He was a tiny thing to the sea. He didn't have to stand tall or keep his composure or say the right thing, at the right time, with the right inflection. He was just another rock on the beach. Looking at the sea was the only time he'd ever been able to feel like this, even when his hands were too small and uncoordinated to tie a knot.
“I’ve read up on compulsive caregiving. I know that’s what this is, and I know it’s not healthy. But how am I to be expected to change a pattern of behavior that formed when I was only a child?”
His hands were deft and calloused now, work worn and strong. Why did they still feel so useless?
“I was only a child." There was realization in the repetition, though it was one he'd had dozens of times before. "And I had to be a parent to the man meant to be my caretaker. It wasn’t his fault. He truly didn’t know any better. But God, being in a position where I felt obligated to cater to my father’s needs before my own took a toll on me. I didn’t learn any other way to live.”
His hand found a stone, worn smooth with force and time. He held it so tightly that his arm trembled from the effort.
"Does helping people mean anything at all if I'm breaking? They think I'm strong. They think I'm solid. They have no idea that I'm falling apart. I'm afraid that if they did, they wouldn't rely on me anymore. And that would break me more than anything else ever could."
He loosened his grip on the stone and let it tumble across his open palm. Erosion would grind it smaller and smaller over time, until it disappeared completely. It was here now though, and it was the only thing keeping him tethered.
"Coming here is a step forward, I suppose. But I truly don't believe that I can fix this. And I'm afraid… I'm just afraid. I'm so scared of losing everything, of failing to do the one thing I know how to do. Through all of my projected maturity and confidence, I still feel like I'm only a child."
He let himself indulge in that feeling, just for a little while. The feeling of being small, insignificant, and alone. Not relied on. Not important. The wind swept his hair in a frenzy around his face and he let it happen as he listened to the persistent crash of the waves, regular as a heartbeat. The only thing he needed to do was continue to exist.
Until his phone rang.