Chapter Text
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Halloween break. It was an interesting time of year… students who chose to stay at their dorm over the break would end up pranking other dorms, the week before was full of equally bad pranks and classes where little-to-nothing got done, an enjoyable time of year to the extroverted fool.
Leona was not one of them.
Far from it.
Halloween was a decent time of year; the pumpkin carving was okay, the movies were mediocre, the candy was bland on Sage Island, the decorations were whatever… he didn’t mind it.
He did NOT, however, enjoy the fact people took it as an excuse to block the halls to plan their stupid little house parties or the conversations he got dragged into by Ruggie or Kalim. It was torture…
But this year, it was particularly bad. For some reason unbeknownst to him, Lilia had decided that there would be a massive Halloween party thrown in Diasomnia with a good few people invited. Ruggie was invited. Leona was, too. Ruggie was forcing him to go. Forcing him to go a costume party and guilt tripping him into agreeing to some stupid dressup.
What sort of sick joke was that?!
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And thus… Leona found himself standing inside Diasomnia’s lounge, dressed as a pirate with a drink in hand, music already blaring from the speakers and people chatting. It was annoying… though he could handle it. He felt nauseous, but chalked it up to the totally nonalcoholic punch he had no idea how the old bat got his hands on.
He wasn’t enjoying himself. The music was loud, even moreso to a lion, the drinks tasted toxic, the people couldn’t keep to themselves, they were bumping into him, they spilled ‘punch’ on his coat, it was all torture.
He just sat on some random windowsill, and then he spotted Malleus. Chatting away with Silver, Sebek, the first years, and Yuu. Typical… of course that bastard was able to get close to people. Some of the froshes were terrified of him, but Yuuka? Yuuka just chatted away. Stupid. Yuuka pissed him off, a lot. She was a disturbance to his plan and friend of the horned prick, so naturally an enemy. But he digresses.
Leona took a long chug of his drink, the liquid burning in his throat before he set the glass down again, looking around more. People chatting. Ruggie with the second years, third years with third years, first years with first years, couples with couples, and a partridge in a pear tree.
Stupid. Completely, utterly stupid.
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He was thinking a lot more than he wanted to, trotting over to refil his drink for the fifth time when he heard his name.
“Leona?”
He turned, spotting Ruggie. Ruggie who had to speak through some weird, magic speaking box thing. Leona had no idea how it worked, some Styx technology that spoke your thoughts when you held a button on the collar?… whatever.
“Hm?”
“You’re drinking a lot.”
“So are you?”
“Fair. You don’t drink, though.”
“I drink.”
“No, you don’t. You told me you rarely drink.”
“Fuck you.”
“Seriously, Leona, you overblotted last fucking week, you can’t do that shit-“
“Ruggie, if all you’re going to do is tell me what to do with my own life, fuck off back to your boyfriends, I’m sure they want to see you.”
“Kalim and Jamil aren’t my- whatever. Do whatever you want, Leona, I’m done.”
The hyena just… left. No jokes, no snappy retort, no… no Ruggie. Seriously, what?
Leona felt so oddly guilty, he knew he fucked up badly during his overblot, he saw the blood and cracks covering Ruggie’s arm and neck, but this? This was… fuck, he fucked up so badly. He did not and would not admit it, but he did. He really, really did.
He literally overblotted not even a week ago and here he was. At a party. In the people who cause it’s dorm. What a fucking week. Ruggie couldn’t even talk but the hyena was downing drinks like his life depended on it. Despite Jack telling him not to in a panic, all the first years, actually. When did they get close?…
He honestly just wanted to get out of this costume and get into bed and spend the entire break week in bed. It was the least he could get. He… knew he shouldn’t be drinking at all, there was still a lot of blot in his system that was making him physically ill and the nurses in the infirmary said it wouldn’t help his mentality after it. Like it ever helped before… but momentary distractions were momentary distractions.
That conversation with Ruggie had been a vague breath of fresh air for a couple seconds, but it left him sick in the end. Though, that was probably the nausea churning in his gut or the pounding migraine or the heavy feeling of his body. Whatever it was, he wanted it GONE.
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And so… he was hunched over some random balcony and puking out was more blot than alcohol. Pity whatever poor soul may have been stood under it. He was pretty sure it was a mote or gorge kinda thing, though.
“Housewarden?”
Jack.
“Mm?…”
What a weak reply.
“Are you alright?…”
“‘M fine.”
“…no, you’re not. You just experienced an overblot and you’re drinking yourself to nausea-!”
“I’m fine, Jack!”
Yelling was a bad idea, another wave of nausea hit him and he was leaning over the balcony again. Enough do that Jack had to grab his hips to keep him from tipping over it. The wolf held his hair back.
“Housewarden, we should go back to the dorm-“
“Jack. Stay with your fuckin’ friends.”
“But-“
“Jack.”
“…yes, sir.”
When he was sure Leona wouldn’t get sick anymore, Jack hesitantly left and went back to the other first years, who had been so annoyingly watching from the door.
Leona sat on the cold stone, something to bring his mind back to him. It was feezing and he was really feeling it with the too-light fabric of his clothes, but if it soothed his migraine, then so be it. He was going to vomit again, he could feel it in his throat, he could also feel tears burning in his eyes but he’d be damned if those came out. Not at Diasomnia, not anywhere.
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Leona spent a good hour sitting on the balcony, vomiting every few minutes but mainly just trying to control his breathing. He wanted out. He felt like a caged animal. It wasn’t fun, it wasn’t a good party, it was awful. His head was spinning with the mixture of drinks and exhaustion. Lions were meant to have a better tolerance… another thing he came second at, he supposed.
Everything was second.
His throat burned from the vomiting, his hands hurt from gripping jagged stone, his stomach hurt from retching, his head hurt from the music, his eyes hurt from tears, everything hurt. He wanted to go home-
No.
No, not home.
He wanted to go back to the dorm.
Never home.
The thought alone forced a choked sob out of him as he curled up on himself, his father would think he was so pathetic right now. Sitting on a balcony, drunk, crying, and hurting.
His father would tell him it wasn’t princely, he would say that he shouldn’t feel these useless emotions because he still got to be royalty. He should be grateful for the life he was given.
The horrible, disgusting life he’d been given. The one he didn’t ask for.
People always said he had it so lucky, he was so blessed because of his position. And he was! He was rich, he never had to worry about food or a roof over his head, he just had to be good. Always good. He wasn’t. He never lived up to that. He hadn’t since he was concieved.
People were shocked if he said he didn’t want to be called his title, they were shocked if he said he slept all day, they were shocked if he say he rarely spoke to his father, so he stopped saying it. What was the point when people told you you should be grateful? He was grateful, really grateful. But he wasn’t happy.
How could someone be happy like this? With their father belittling them? With their brother always in the spotlight? With a dragon getting everything you want in life? It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair!
The more he thought about it, the more the tears fell. Stupid, burning tears he promised himself he’d never let fall again. Yet here he was, sat on a balcony, sobbing his eyes out at a party like some cliche book trope.
He had to get out of here. Now. He couldn’t stay. He promised to stay, he should stay, he couldn’t, he couldn’t bring himself to stay here. He was drunk, he was throwing up blot so much it scared him- it scared him. HIM. Leona Kingscholar, scared! What a pathetic excuse for a prince.
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When he stopped himself from sobbing, able to feel the mascara on his cheeks and down his neck, he slowly pushed himself to his feet. His stomach lurched, but he kept it down.
Focusing on his breathing and his steps, he made his way down one of the empty hallways… he was pretty sure this was the way to the exit based on the views out of those green-tinted windows that made him want to smash them, who tints windows green? They’re ugly.
…they’re not really. But when has he ever been true to himself?
With a heavy breath and a harsh push of his hand, he pushed open the door leading out of Diasomnia and let the fresh, mossy air hit him like a wave of relief.
It was an annoyingly long walk down that bridge… but he would manage. Probably. He just needed to be in his bed… or hunched over his toilet for the night. Either one worked.
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“No business takin’ 15 minutes to walk down that…”
He muttered under his breath when he finally made it back into the mirror chamber and staggered his way to savanaclaw’s, finally entering the dorm and being met by complete silence.
Well, almost complete. He could hear the faint sounds of animals, but that was it… so all the dorm was at that party… huh.
Privacy.
Privacy was a dangerous thing.
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Hadn’t he said it? Privacy was dangerous.
Even more dangerous when you knew you had a full bottle of desipramine on your nightstand and were grabbing it as we speak.
Leona grabbed the bottle, sitting down on his bed before popping the cap. Was he really doing this? Yes, yes he was. He couldn’t take it anymore. Everything hurt from his overblot, his head kept getting worse, he hurt people for no reason, he screamed and he growled and he lashed out, he didn’t deserve to be here.
And so, what a better way to make everyone feel better than to just…cease all of this?
To grab a handful of pills, maybe 10? (He didn’t count), and then down them all at once.
He choked, naturally, ten pills at once was a lot, but he grabbed some water and got them down.
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For a few minutes, Leona lay on his bed feeling a bit… he didn’t know how to describe it. Out of it? Confused? Disoriented? Whatever it was, it wasn’t bad. He didn’t hate it.
Though, his vision blurred slightly, how weird… and his head hurt. It hurt a lot. His heart raced in his chest while his breathing seemed to grow go a more difficult feat. How?… what?… he didn’t know what was happening, if anything he couldn’t fully remember what he’d just done.
He was laying in bed, there was something plastic in his hand, his body felt too heavy, his ceiling looked too far away, he was pretty sure there was someone in the corner of his room but they didn’t breathe so probablt not, he was really warm all the sudden. It was weird.
Before he knew it, his breathing fell shallow and what he was assuming was sleep started to creep up on him. And who was Leona if he didn’t welcome sleep? He needed a nap right now.
He heard a door open as his eyes closed.
“Leona?”
Ruggie?…
“LEONA!”
And then everything cut off. No noise, no vision, no smells, no tastes, no feelings, not even thoughts. How oddly peaceful.
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