Chapter Text
Julian stopped short as he stepped into the Rowdy Raven, his gaze snapping to one particular patron on a stool. He stared. He never expected to see him in Vesuvia again, let alone at his favorite establishment to get wasted at. He desperately needed the alcohol. Did he need to avoid Asra more than he needed the numbing effects of salty bitters?
Asra hadn’t seen him yet. He could quietly turn and walk out. Find another bar. Maybe he’d find one that was even better than this one. He could even move to a quiet booth in the corner, let a server take care of him for once.
Instead, inexplicably, he walked straight for the fluffy white hair hunched over a glass, and took the stool next to him. Asra didn’t look up. Didn’t even seem to notice him. His face was flushed, his eyes slightly swollen, red, glassy. Had he been crying?
Before Julian knew what he was doing, he slung an arm around Asra’s shoulders, startling the magician as Asra looked up at him with a gasp, eyes wide. Then they narrowed as he saw him. “Doctor Devorak,” he said stiffly. He sounded like he had been crying.
“You look like you need a friend.”
“Not you.”
Julian drew back, brows knitting together in concern. “Why not me?”
Asra turned back to his cup, shaking his head. “Forget it.”
“No, I won’t. I care about you, Asra. I don’t know why you’re back, but I count you as one of my closest friends, and-“
He quieted as Asra reached into his bag and produced a tattered, folded piece of parchment, practically flinging it at Julian. He took it, then opened it and read:
Asra,
By the time you read this, I’ll be dead. I’m so sorry. You were right. I should’ve left Vesuvia with you, but now it’s too late. You’re the only person who would care that I’m gone; the Count blames me for not convincing you to stay, the Countess is too wrapped up in trying to run Vesuvia, and Doctor Devorak… I thought he would care. He doesn’t. He doesn’t even know I’m sick. You’re the only one left, and you’re not here. I’m going to die alone and I’m terrified.
Julian didn’t read further. “I cared,” he said in a tremulous voice. “I care . I know I messed up, but I can’t go back and do it over. All I can do now is go forward and hope that the end is in sight.”
“He died alone.”
“You were just as gone as I was.”
Asra snarled softly, glaring under his white lashes. Then he picked up his glass, threw back his head, and downed the rest of the drink in a couple gulps. “Why are you here, Ilya?” he demanded flatly.
He was slurring slightly. Barth was good at flagging customers who were a little too deep in their cups; he had the sense that Asra was very close to being cut off. If he wanted a drinking partner, it wouldn’t be him. “I’m here to drown my sorrows, if you must know,” Julian replied. “I wasn’t looking for you. I didn’t even know you were back in Vesuvia. Honestly, I thought I’d never see you again.”
Asra sighed, pushing his cup up the bar and running a trembling hand through his hair. “I feel sick,” he muttered.
“How many did you have?”
“Three.”
“Three what?”
“Salty bitters.”
“Good heavens!” Julian exclaimed, eyes widening. “You’re liable to give yourself alcohol poisoning!”
Asra scowled at him. “Don’t give me that. You knock these back like they’re water.”
“I’m also older than you and a more experienced drinker than you are.” He sighed. “I take it since you haven’t asked for another one, you’re done.”
“I’m done. I don’t want to throw up.”
Julian wanted desperately to let him go his way, stay and escape from reality. His conscience wouldn’t allow that. “C’mon, then, let’s get you home-“
“No.”
“No?”
Asra looked away, his face flushed with alcohol and emotion. “I can’t go back. I can’t. I can’t go back to where he lived.”
Julian’s heart constricted painfully at that, not only for Asra, but for himself. He had cared, immensely. Too much. Part of him had simply ignored what he knew, ignored the fact that Thomas was gone and was never coming back. Asra’s refusal to go back to the place he’d called home for years… after struggling on the street for so long… It made it real. “You don’t have to go back to the shop,” Julian replied softly, “but you can’t stay here.”
“I’ll be fine-“
“You obviously won’t.”
Asra glared vehemently at him. “What’s it to you, anyway?” he demanded hotly. “Don’t you have something more important to do than harass me?”
“Is that what you think I’m doing? Harassing you?” Julian couldn’t help but raise his voice ever so slightly. The only hint it bothered that Asra was how he swallowed hard, but the glassy-eyed glare remained. “I don’t call being concerned for a friend ‘harassment’.”
“Friend.” Asra snorted and looked away. “He trusted you, Ilya. I trusted you. You threw him away.”
Julian wanted nothing more than to leave Asra to rage against fate. He wasn’t in a state of mind to listen to anyone. But something about the way Asra was carrying himself wouldn’t let Julian just walk away. Something about how Asra was carrying himself disturbed Julian. The magician was eccentric, always had been, to Julian’s knowledge - but he had never behaved like this before. Not even in the depths of his worst despair. And he said as much.
Darkly, Asra replied, “Maybe this is the depths of my worst despair.”
“That’s it. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”
That got Asra’s attention. The narrowed, angry eyes widened in shock. “What?”
“You heard me. I’m not leaving someone who’s clearly distressed to their own devices.”
“Are you paying attention? I don’t want you around!”
“Tough,” Julian replied in his best, stern Doctor’s voice. “Get used to it. Come on.” He took Asra’s arm and hauled him off the barstool, eliciting a yelp from the young magician. Julian expected Asra to call out for help, resist him, anything - and if he did any of that, he’d be going to the palace infirmary for observation. But, much to Julian’s surprise, Asra merely stumbled, from drink or from being hauled to his feet, Julian didn’t know, and let himself be dragged out of the establishment.
By the time they were in the street, Asra seemed to have caught his footing. He was wobbly, but walking on his own. “Let me go,” he hissed, reminding Julian of a feral kitten.
“No,” Julian replied evenly. “Not without a promise that you won’t run.”
“I won’t run! I can’t! I’m too drunk!”
At that, Julian let go, and Asra promptly collapsed to the ground, crossing his arms over his chest. “Really?” Julian spluttered.
Asra merely smirked at him and adjusted himself so he was more comfortable. With a sigh, Julian folded his legs underneath himself, sitting with Asra, who looked at him like he’d gone insane. “I really don’t understand you,” Asra groused.
“The feeling is mutual,” Julian groused back. “You’re getting on my last nerve now.”
“Then leave me alone!”
“You’re going to thank me for staying with you once you’re sober.”
“Ilya Devorak, I will never thank you for staying with me,” Asra retorted sourly.
Julian cracked a smile. “That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?”
“I don’t know your last name. I can’t call you by your full name.”
Asra surprised him yet again, muttering something under his breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch-“
“Alnazar.”
“Alnazar,” Julian repeated, tasting the name out. “It’s got a nice ring to it.”
“I haven’t used it since I was a child.”
“Why?”
Asra scowled. “Go away.”
“Sorry, not going to happen.”
Sighing heavily, Asra rose, wobbling on his feet and almost falling flat on his face. Julian rose with him, alarmed. “Well, let’s go then.”
“What? Erhm - Go - Go where?”
“I said I wasn’t going back to the shop. You said you’re taking me somewhere safe. Let’s go.”
Asra’s sudden agreement made Julian suspicious, but he was going to take the opportunity to see Asra somewhere safe. But now that the question had been posed to him, he had to admit, he didn’t know where to take Asra. He got the feeling that he’d reject an offer to put him up in an inn, and if Asra was interested in any of the shelters for indigent people, he’d have used them growing up. He’d immediately refuse being taken to the palace.
That left one place, and Julian was sure he would refuse that, too. “Alright. Let’s go.” Julian reached for his hand.
Asra, surprising him yet again, let him, and went when Julian started walking. “So. Where are we going?” Asra asked.
“My place.”
“I’m not going to the palace.”
“I know. I have a home in the South End. We’re going there.”
“Ooooh. You’re gonna have to buy me dinner first.”
Julian scowled over his shoulder, knowing his face was flushed red to the tips of his ears. “You are so drunk,” he muttered, when Asra stumbled, caught his footing, and giggled. “If I put food in your stomach, you’re just going to vomit it back up.”
“So you’re not looking to seduce me?”
“No.”
“I don’t know if I should be insulted or relieved.”
“I don’t find people who are drunk out of their minds particularly attractive.”
Asra purred, slurring the words, “So, if I was sober, you would?”
Rather than answering him, baffled by Asra’s conflicting messages, embarrassed by what he would say if he were being honest, Julian replied, “Just… Just shut up. Please.” Asra’s laugh was loud, grating, and enchanting at the same time.
Much to Julian’s relief, Asra said nothing else until they arrived at Julian’s home. It was a nice home for its location. It was at the center of the South End. There was no part of the South End that could be construed as a ‘nice area,’ but this area was clean, homelier than other parts of it. Julian propped Asra up on the side of the stoop as he fumbled with the key, missing the keyhole a couple of times before getting the key in. Julian suppressed a scowl; Asra’s strange behavior was setting him on edge and making it hard to think clearly. He felt like he’d had a drink himself.
“Nice place,” Asra drawled as Julian escorted him in and closed the door behind them.
“It’s not much, but it’s home,” Julian replied, internally cringing at the cliche. “Have a seat on the couch. I’ll make you some coffee.”
Asra wrinkled his nose. “No, thank you.”
“You need something to sober you up.” Julian tapped his chin, gazing thoughtfully at Asra, and then nodded to himself. “Soup.”
“Soup?”
“Soup. Just give me a few moments to heat it up.”
Asra chuckled, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. Julian took his leave of Asra, going to his kitchen and the icebox that Mazelinka made sure he kept stocked. Honestly, he would’ve simply moved into the palace if not for the need to get away from Lucio every once in a while. He knew vaguely that the icebox was magical, but as long as he didn’t think about it, he didn’t mind it.
This soup was specially made for Julian. His insomnia was chronic and pathological, and there were times he laid awake, his mind in turmoil, not slowing down enough for him to relax into sleep. He had been like that ever since the shipwreck that had orphaned him and his sister. The grandmothers who took over their care for Mazelinka fretted over his awful insomnia, until one day, when Mazelinka came to visit, she and Lilinka put their heads together and concocted this soup. It worked like a charm most nights. If this soup didn’t put him to sleep, nothing would.
He grabbed a jar of the soup from the icebox and dumped it into a saucepan, lighting the stove. He glanced at the living room nervously. He knew Asra well, and he knew you should be most concerned about him when he was quiet. Not that Asra was a noisy person; he wasn’t. But Asra was curious, and even more so when he was drunk, and Asra was very drunk at the moment. He should’ve heard Asra calling out facts about his knickknacks, claiming he had a magic component or another, something .
Julian blew out the stove and spooned the hot soup into a large mug, and took it out to the living room. He stopped short as his gaze fell on his guest. Asra was slumped over the couch armrest, face buried in the crook of his arm. Julian set the mug down on an end table and gingerly sat next to Asra, brushing white hair away from his neck. Asra didn’t stir as Julian pressed two fingers to his pulse beneath his jaw. Feeling it strong beneath his fingers, he rose again and disappeared back into the house, heading for his room and retrieving the bucket he kept there for when he drank too much, and placed it so that it would be the first thing Asra would see when he woke up.
Then he pulled a throw quilt over Asra’s body and settled into the armchair on the other side of the room. He slung his coat over himself and snuggled into the plush chair, sipping the soup as he did so. He was so worried about Asra, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep without it. As he drank the soup, he felt his lids grow heavy. He knew that the responsible thing to do would be to stay up with Asra, make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit - and he would throw up, Julian knew from experience. But Asra was upright, and it was so late. If he wanted to be awake and aware for whatever arguments sprung up in the morning, he needed to get some sleep. He gave one final peer at Asra where he was slumped over, motionless, before setting the cup aside and closing his eyes, letting sleep take him.