Work Text:
Guilt must have claws, Brad thinks. It grabs at his throat, leaves jagged lacerations on his windpipe. If he tries to speak now, he wouldn't be surprised if he started to choke, blood dripping down his chin and spraying across the distance between them. Keith turning to alcohol hadn't shocked him in anyway meaningful. Still, it is bitter, watching the man down glass after glass in the comforts of the apartment that Brad remembers just yesterday bringing housewarming presents for.
Keith had given both Dino and him spare keys, had shrugged and said he was too lazy to get up and attend to the door every time they came. Even if he didn't meet their eyes, Brad could tell from the pink of his cheeks that he'd been excited too, to have his own place away from the shades of the past.
Keith had never welcomed alcohol into his home before. Yet now, it permeates all the senses, the scent eroding away at Brad's nose.
It had been three months since everything, three months since Brad had forced the words out of his teeth. "He's dead. I watched him die."
Three months since Keith first broke the seal on a bottle of alcohol and brought its lips to his in a broken oath of a kiss. Brad had been there but he hadn't watched. Couldn't. Not as the red pooled down Keith's mouth as he drank as though holding his breath underwater; desperate.
When his attendance at work had turned spotty, most had turned the other cheek. But 1 day after the leave for mourning turned to 2, turned to 4 and Brad couldn't stand it any longer. He never picked up the phone, seldom had it even charged anymore. Jay said banging on his door had brought no resolve, no reaction. So Brad did what he had to.
Every moment since *that day*, looking at Keith *hurt*.
He looks extra pathetic right now, laid out prone on the couch, hand thrown over his forehead. There is a pool of vomit laying just barely out of reach of the couch. Brad's nose crinkles without notice. Had he not been groaning, Brad would have assumed in a panic that perhaps, he had passed. And then Brad would have to relay the information of a another death, a *real* death. He doesn't think he could.
Brad kneels next to Keith, careful to avoid the throw-up that now appears to have dried. He shakes Keith gently by the shoulder. The momentary startle reminds Brad of a much younger Keith. Wide-eyed, scared, anxious; all the things that Jay and Dino had worked so hard to undo. He freezes. Keith takes no notice, eyes immediately narrowing. He grabs Brad's hand and unceremoniously throws it off. "Oh, it's just you."
It is just him. And it'll forever be just him now. Just Brad and Keith. Jay's so called Miracle Trio had been left a very broken duo.
Brad doesn't acknowledge Keith's searing gaze, the way the truth burbles in his stomach, ready to boil over. He swallows it down bitterly. "It reeks in here." The venom in his voice is not directed at Keith, but Keith has no way of knowing. He bristles, reacting exactly as Brad's grown used to.
"Go take a shower," Brad does not ask because he knows regardless of his tone, Keith's response would be the same.
Sure enough, he turns the other way, more than content to ignore Brad. Brad's brows furrow as he shakes Keith again, more aggressively still. He does not flinch when Keith shoots up, grip painfully tight around his wrist. "Stop pestering me. I heard you the first time." He sounds hoarse.
"When was the last time you drank some water?"
"When was the last time you minded your own business."
Brad does not back down, keeps his gaze steady on Keith's. Keith looks away first. His fingers slide off.
When Brad returns, he accepts the glass of water without fanfare.
As Brad had expected, he leaves to take that shower. Majority of the time will probably be spent listlessly standing under the water.
The place is scattered with bottles of alcohol, ranging from cheap convenience store cans to moderately expensive grocery store bottles, all tossed around after having been emptied carelessly.
By the time Keith comes back out, the place is spotless, empty.
Keith gives a humorless laugh as he rubs a tired hand down his face.
~~~~
Guilt must be lithe, flexible enough to fit into any crevice of joy Brad finds in his life. It slithers, wrapping its coils around Brad's chest, tightening. A quiet voice whispers in his ears that he does not deserve space to breathe when Keith's drowning, when Dino's gone.
24 hours is simply not enough. Wringing lunch breaks gives perhaps an additional thirty minutes. It is better than nothing, so Brad relinquishes those as well.
Sleep does not visit often, distancing itself slowly from Brad's routine until laying in bed exhausts him more than staying awake. It must be for the best. The streets wouldn't be searching themselves. No one makes better for a hunter than someone personally on the run. Turns out, lies and memories make for quite the bloodhounds.
~~~
In another life, guilt could have made for either a good lover or a better stalker: persistent, ever present, all-consuming. It lingers at the doorways when Brad turns the corners, creeping at the back of the room when he turns out the lights. The figure is never the same.
Right now, it takes the shape of the little black circles on the pizza that Jay had put in front of him, some poor attempt at getting him to eat an actual meal. The man himself sits across from Brad at the table, arms crossed. The frown that bends his lips highlights the wrinkles he'd only started to sport. The ever ageless foundation had so easily started to show signs of wear and tear at the loss of one person.
The olives seem stare angrily at Brad, holding witness to his faults, his sins. The idea of eating pizza without the one who'd love it most wholeheartedly felt nauseating. Still, Brad had hurt Jay enough. If eating is all it took to relieve Jay of even a little stress, he would. Brad lifts the slice with shaking hands.
He would never again hear Dino invite him to make pizza together. Never again cross another pizza store on patrol only to be dragged in. Never see Dino beam with the joy of a thousand suns upon biting onto a cheesy crust.
Brad gags, hand thrown over his mouth as he looks down to his lap. Guilt slides its hands calmly around his shoulders with practiced familiarity. The accusing eyes stare at him without sympathy.
Good.
He's not sure he deserves any.
Brad tells Jay he's not hungry.
He doesn't meet his concerned gaze. Cannot stand the compassion floating around in honey gold irises.
He's not sure he deserves any.
~~~
Perhaps this is his attempt at socializing, Brad thinks. The garbage bins and black bags of miscellaneous dubious contents obscure his vision enough to almost miss the leg sticking out. The rain did little else but mock the scene, an atmospheric bastard. The smell of alcohol lingers like rot, clinging to the cracks of the walls, oozing through the fissures of Keith's battered trust in a family that doesn't hurt.
Brad tilts his umbrella to cover Keith as he stands over him, thinking, observing. The street lights barely illuminate Keith's face. Brad refuses to acknowledge whether or not the streaks that line his cheeks are tears or rain drops, though he has his suspicions.
It's 2:15 now. It had been 10:30 when Brad had stopped working, feeling the sudden urge to check up on Keith. To make sure he hadn't done something irreversibly stupid. He doesn't know just yet, but the thought will turn into a staple, worming its way into Brad's schedule and making an unruly home there.
Even now, the shock of the empty apartment room has Brad's heart thudding, fear and desperation trailing his veins in a way adrenaline never makes him feel. Brad couldn't have stopped one loss, yes. He will give himself grace he doesn't deserve. But to let someone else slip between his fingers would be unacceptable, unforgiveable.
Keith's heavy. His waterlogged clothes soaked all the way through makes him all the heavier. Brad curses as he tries to balance the umbrella along with Keith's arm around his shoulder before relenting to set Keith down against the wall. Brad crouches and pats Keith's face. Once, twice, gently. And then he slaps him. Keith's eyes fly open.
"Brad?" His voice is quiet, pained. He sounds pathetic enough to make Brad cringe.
Just like that, it returns. The ever present whisper in Brad's head, a constant dialogue of undeserved self defense against a barrage of '*this is your fault'*s. Brad doesn't try addressing it. Priority number 1 is getting Keith to the tower.
"Yeah, its me. What are you doing out here? You have a responsibility-"
Keith laughs at that. There is no malice, simply defeat.
The feeling of claws against his throat returns. Brad shuts his lips. Sews them together in a silence he cannot undo.
The trek home is silent, though 'home' feels like a far away memory now. Keith is silent through the trip, but Brad feels his shoulders shake.
~~~
Turns out guilt is not as silent as Brad had initially assumed.
It is later than usual, even for him, when he finally leaves his office room. The hallways are empty, as expected. The initial eerie feeling of walking alone down these corridors has faded. His only companion, the click of his dress shoe heels against the tile flooring, is easy to ignore.
Brad pauses at the sound of voices down the corner. That's not at all regular.
"Get a hold of yourself Jay." It's muffled by distance, distinctly feminine. Instructor Lily?
Brad's throat goes dry. Still, he presses forward. One step silent, then another forced, until he is at the bend in the hallway. Just so barely, he peeks out.
Jay, one hand covering his mouth, shoulders shaking, eyes transfixed downward. In his other hand, his wallet. Brad knows exactly what he's looking at. Jay had kept pictures of them in his wallet, collected through their times together. The one all the way at the front had been taken right before their first patrol, Dino in the middle, Keith and Brad on either side. Jay stood just a little behind them, hand over Brad and Keith's shoulders. Brad had remembered his grin, his pride. His never ending joy in that moment.
Starkly different compared to the man he sees now.
"Jay..." Lily sounds sympathetic. Still, her voice picks up its resolve as she pulls Jay's hand down from his mouth. "I know it hurts. But if you crumble, what are Brad and Keith going to do? Things are falling apart as it is. You cannot as well."
It takes Brad a while to place the sudden static that makes it impossible to hear what she said next. Takes him a while to realize only he had the privilege to hear this most awful sound.
And just like that, it's too much. Too much to see Jay's tear filled eyes, to remember Keith's alcoholic disoriented gaze. Brad can make out only a few words in his head through the static. Blame. Fault. Liar.
The roof is barely a distance away, but by the time Brad reaches the gardens, he's terribly out of breath. He heaves through the feeling of nausea, mind racing as he forces his eyes closed shut. It is still far too loud in his head and he feels the momentary urge to scream, to shout, to throw something at someone.
~~~~~
Guilt must enjoy entertainment. Brad feels it boring its eyes into the back of his head at every waking hour. Knows it well enough to know it smirks and leans back to relish in the show.
By now, Brad is well aware of Keith's favorite haunts. Knows that when one bartender cuts him off for the night, Keith just finds another until he's drunk himself unconscious on the very streets he'd fought to get off of as a child. The bartenders have grown comfortable enough with Brad to sigh in relief when they see him, happy to know Keith would be taken off their care soon enough.
Keith's still awake by the time Brad gets there, the 3rd in Brad's long list.
The bar is near empty. Brad watches as Keith throws his head back and swallows another shot of whatever. For a minute, Brad simply watches, steadying himself.
With a sigh, he taps Keith's shoulder. When Keith turns, his eyes are glowing, hazy. He's obviously far past drunk. Still, Brad doesn't remember the last time he'd seen Keith look so at ease. He etches the memory into his mind, and with it, every foul reason that brought them here.
"Hey Brad," Keith slurs, raising his new glass. The drink sloshes inside, a good bit falling out.
"Keith." Brad's eyes are burning too, too many late nights spent at any lead towards Lost Garden straining his vision. He is nowhere near as patient as he could be. He grabs Keith's arm, tired of this daily dance they do. "We're leaving."
Keith frowns. "You just got here," he slurs as he clumsily pours a glass for Brad. "Drink with me."
For the first time in weeks, the exhaustion Brad feels is not simply bone deep weariness. For the first time in weeks, he wants to lay down on his bed and forget everything for maybe a good 4 hours if he's lucky.
When Keith brings the glass towards Brad's direction, Brad grabs his wrist. "Stop it. We're going back."
Keith frowns, pulling his grasp back from Brad's grip. "But we've never drank together. Don't you want to?"
"No." Not like this. Perhaps to celebrate, never to forget.
Keith shrugs, turning away on his stool. He sets the glass down. "Your loss."
He pours himself another drink, yet in his drunken stupor, the waterline clings to the top of the glass before the excess is sent spilling over. Much like Brad's patience.
He wrenches Keith to face him by the shoulder. "How many times do I have to repeat myself? We're leaving."
Keith scoffs. "Leave if you want to. Stop expecting me to follow along." He shakes off Brad's grasp, trying to nurse his drink once more with little care.
"You're going to drink yourself to death. Is that what you want? To die? You think Dino's happy watch-"
The splash shouldn't come as a surprise to Brad. He *knows* he shouldn't have said that, but still gasps all the same, eyes stinging. Through the reflexive tears and the hair spilling over, he watches Keith's anger turn to regret, then horror. Brad turns away, desperate to find somewhere to wash his face.
He does not fight the uncoordinated hands on his shoulders that turn him back around, nor does he fight the careful fingers that brush past his whiskey soaked bangs. If that's all it takes for Keith to sober, he should throw alcohol at Brad more often. A flavorless thought. Brad forces himself to open his eyes through the sting.
Keith looks at him the same way he did that time Brad woke up in the infirmary post first overflow attempt. The same concern weighed heavier by the time they'd known each other, the time passed since. He does not say sorry and neither does he have to. Brad hears it loud and clear when they're behind the counter, Keith at his back, as he flushes his eyes out.
Brad pays for whatever had been on Keith's tab for the night, pays for the cleanup. When he turns to leave, his steps are not the only ones he hears. The car starts only after both seat belts are buckled, even if Keith had the habit of usually forgoing his. Tonight, Brad would not allow for it. He felt too exhausted to truly trust himself on the road.
His hair drips onto the seat, and Brad mourns that he hadn't bought seat covers. He could be airing out the smell for ages but the foul memory makes it futile. For all that Keith and him had fought a lot in the past, this felt different.
Still, he finds some grim satisfaction in getting dished a modicum of what he is owed.
Keith is silent in the passenger's seat, regret clear in his movements even if Brad doesn't take his eyes off the road. If he knew what Brad had been keeping from him, surely he would have poured the entire bottle.
It is a miracle they make it back to the tower without incident.
"Goodnight Keith."
Brad shuts the engine and sits there, looking straight ahead. Keith stares at him for a little, waiting for further acknowledgement. He sighs, resigned.
"Goodnight Brad." Quiet, rueful. Brad cannot bear to hear it. He nods, not trusting his voice. The door opens and then slams shut, though there isn't enough force to close it properly.
Brad falls asleep right there in the driver's seat before Keith's made it out the garage.
~~~
It comes as no surprise to anyone, much less Jay, when Brad falls over after a meeting. What else could one expect after 4 months of barely 3 hours of sleep a night, consistently skipped meals, and a constant stream of things to be done. Still, Jay's known his mentee long enough to know that sometimes, he has to fall on his own before he understands that he is not all-capable. That he too in as dire need of a break as everyone else.
24 does not feel much older than the 19 at which Jay had been assigned his mentor. In his arms, he looks like the same young child, even if his eyebags and the burdens he carries have increased significantly in weight. Jay frowns. If anything, Brad weighs lighter, the skipped meals clearly taking its toll on his body.
Jay sighs. Stubborn, Stubborn boy.
~~~~
The headache may not be surprising, but it is still annoying. Brad winces as he sits up, easily recognizing the medbay cot under him. He hisses at the bright lights, wincing at both the violence against his eyes and temples.
"Brad."
Jay sits on the couch beside the bed, posture as crumpled as his dress shirt. His tie is crooked and Brad feels the urge to reach over and fix it. He doesn't dare look up, aware of the disappointment emanating off Jay.
Brad is disappointed too, though he suspects they feel the same way for different reasons. This was embarrassing. Maybe the caffeine pills just weren't meant to be a long term solution. He'd have to find a more effective way, perhaps something a little stronger.
"Brad." Jay wipes a hand over his face, looking every bit as tired as Brad feels. "I understand what you're trying to do-" He doesn't. "-but you're wearing yourself to the bone. You might not be drinking like Keith is, but this isn't any healthier."
Guilt must be an excellent swimmer. He feels it sloshing around in his abdomen, splashing about in his stomach acid like he's got heartburn. It has done wonders at keeping Brad's gaze stuck low in Jay's company. Disapproval hurts the most coming from a place of love. With Dino gone, Jay's perhaps the most capable in Brad's life. If Brad had to guess, he would assume Dino was no prouder of him either.
"Brad?" The polite thing is to address the speaker when spoken to. After all, etiquette had been properly marinated into his upbringing. Still, Brad trusts Jay to be used to his stubbornness; he doesn't. The scratchy linens are simply more interesting in the moment.
The sigh is frustration devoid of deserved anger. "Keith was here before you woke up. He's worried too, Brad."
"You're just making that up," Brad said weakly, turning away.
"He told me not to tell you, but he carried you here." Brad worries his lip.
"I've taught you guys long enough to pick up on your facial expressions. I might just be an old man, but I know enough to know when you guys aren't feeling well." The sheets crumple where they're held. Brad's knuckles are white hot. "The same way I can tell there's been something on your mind the past few weeks you might want to discuss. I figured it had to do with... with Dino. So I hadn't pressed. But I'm starting to regret that."
Brad's head whips around. For a moment, just a moment, he wonders if Jay knows anything. No, hope is for fools and Brad had fallen hook, line and sinker.
This is precisely why Brad could never let Keith know that Dino had been alive. Denial leads to the front door of recklessness, welcomes you to feast with death in desperation. Perhaps it is selfish, perhaps Keith would hate him for it, but Brad would rather his remaining friend live an alcoholic with a chance of recovery than die a martyr in a cause without hope.
Jay shifts from the couch to the side of Brad's bed. Physical affection from Jay isn't rare. However, he's always been careful to keep within people's comfort levels. Keith only allowed for pats on the shoulder, ruffles on the head, even if he pretended to be irked. Side hugs were occasionally acceptable. Brad had been more open, but even he fell flat when it came to Dino. Back when they were rookies, it wasn't rare to find him asleep on the couch on Jay's shoulder, or with his head on his lap. Even during training, every session ended with a thank you hug. Dino had bloomed under Jay's adorations, had reciprocated it in equal. Brad wagers Jay must miss it. Even he misses Dino's presence, the casual warmth he'd display.
At most, Brad expects a pat on the head. maybe even an invitation to lean on Jay's shoulder, though Brad would reject it.
It is only further evidence of how much the situation weighs on Jay, when he pulls Brad into a hug. Warm, familiar, steady, Jay is every bit the pillar that keeps Helios standing tall. The lump in Brad's throat comes out of nowhere. He tries to swallow his gasp, to ignore the sudden prickle at the corner of his eyes.
He hadn't cried at Dino's funeral though he had held tightly onto Keith's hand worried that either of them could disappear in the moment. Brad had buried his innocence in Dino's coffin, devoid of a body, physical or not, entombed his comparatively carefree life. He hadn't cried at the etching of the epitaph into the stone memorial, there even if Keith and Jay could not make it. The legacy that Dino left behind was his to uphold, to look after, to remember in entirety. To mourn in a way no one else could ever know.
Maybe it isn't surprising. When Jay cards through Brad's hair, guides Brad's face into the crook of his neck, he is only momentarily stunned. He bites at his lip to stop, stop the ugly feelings that surfaced. He had no right to cry, he knew as much. Hypocrisy.
Still, Jay's familiarity felt like an invitation to share the burden, and the truth bubbles to his lips in frantic misery. "Jay." Brad both wishes for the universe to stop him, and that nothing get in between him and the release of truth. Jay does not speak beyond a hum, and that is all Brad needs. "Promise me you won't tell Keith." Jay pauses, but Brad feels him nod against the side of his head.
Perhaps Jay realizes there is something wrong, recognizes the fractures in Brad's voice that Brad does not hear himself. He starts to pull away, but Brad clings to the back of his shirt with shaking hands, terrified that if anything changed in this moment, he could never force out the rest of the words he'd swallowed for so long like poison. "Promise me you won't be mad." Stubbornly, because that's always how he's been with Jay, Brad clutches on. He'd kept it together for months past when he thought the secret would expire. Surely, this moment of weakness would be allowed, even if never again acknowledged.
Jay takes a little longer to answer this time.
The weight of regret is surprising, but it is less heavy than guilt.
Brad lets loose his grip, prepared for Jay to regard him with suspicion, with accusations. Instead, Jay holds him closer still. He sounds fonder, softer, quieter than usual when he says, "I promise."
The truth spills out of Brad's lips like blood, dribbling down the side. "Dino's still alive."