There was a part of Taner that argued he didn’t need the comfort of others, didn’t need words of validation to make himself feel better. But another part of him, a much smaller part, would have argued otherwise. For in that moment, with his grandmother’s passing looming over him like a dark cloud, Taner was nothing more than a broken and lost boy. He wanted — no, needed the comfort that David was offering him, the words that were spoken to soothe the guilt and regret that darkened the parts of him that had otherwise thrived in this new chapter of his life. He wanted to listen to those words, combined with the soft beat of the other’s heart until nothing else mattered. Until he no longer beat himself up over something that he had no control over changing.
Then a scoff was resounding from him, a noise that seemed so off in the present moment, “No, I wasn’t.” Because he hadn’t been. Taner knew that, Uriah knew that — hell, probably the rest of his family knew that, as well. It was those thoughts that he’d been so wrapped up in, that he hadn’t felt the movement of David’s hand until fingers were pressing against warmed skin, causing a shiver to cascade down his spine. “I was more focused on getting high,” he admitted after a beat, fingers curling more tightly into the fabric of the other’s shirt. The first step in recovery is admitting you have a problem, right? Or at least, that’s what Taner had heard over the years, from those that cared to see him healthy and clean.
But coming to terms with his dependency wasn’t the reason he had come to David’s that night. Hell, he still wasn’t even sure what had drawn him to the other, or why he had felt this was the best place to end up. Yet as the words slipped off the other’s tongue, washing over Taner in the hopes of easing the guilt on his mind, he knew without a doubt that it was. The world was a fucked up place, in more ways than one, and Taner could have laughed at the words had it not been in association with such a dark subject. Teeth chewed at his lesser lip as he mulled over the words, picking out the pieces that would hopefully ease the worry in his drug and alcohol addled mind. That is — until David’s next words hit him, and even if he had been more prepared for them, there was no way to hide the way his body stiffened when he was pressed so closely against the other.
In retrospect, Taner should have seen them coming. It was the perfect opportunity for anyone to attempt to steer him away from this path of destruction, and David took his moment as he should. That didn’t, however, make it any easier to hear. In truth, Taner knew that he needed to stop — or, at the very least, slow himself down. He wasn’t young anymore, and his body had taken a beating over the last few years from all that he had done. But did that give David the right to lecture him? Why, because he had escaped to some remote country to get himself clean? In his current state, he didn’t quite see the admittance that was laced with David’s words, could only see the way in which he was being admonished. For a brief moment, he considered lashing out, but his mind reminded him how that would end. So instead, in a very Taner like way of pushing serious matters aside, he shifted until he was able to peer up at David, “You know, you’re very good at this. You should consider a self help theme for your next movie.”
David knew he was walking on thin ice the moment he chose to say those words. A part of him knew he had no right to say them, or to try and change Taner -- they were nothing, and just because they had been intimate a few times since running into each other didn’t mean he had any say in the other’s life. But he also couldn’t leave the words unsaid. He’d lost one man in his life to alcohol and drugs already, without seeing what was going on, without doing anything about it, and he couldn’t let that happen to anything else. He wouldn’t be able to handle the guilt if he didn’t say anything after seeing Taner in a state like this. But of course he also knew what it was like. That it was hard to see why you should change your lifestyle, and that even after you realized you should change something about your behavior, you didn’t ultimately end up doing just that.
He had needed a push, and his one had been brutal. Taner needed a push too, and maybe a very selfish part of David hoped that the death of his grandmother would also be that thing he needed. “That’s what drugs do to you. They always seem to be more important than anything else,” he whispered quietly, speaking from experience. How many times had David missed out on going home to see his family in favor of getting high with others for example? More times than he could count. It was surprising it never took a toll on his acting career until he pulled the plug himself. David was aware this process wasn’t the same for everyone -- and he’d happily hold Taner’s hand through whatever road he decided to take. But seeing him like this was painful, and he wished he could do more about this than just give the other careful shoves in the right direction.
The truth was, he’d rather expected Taner to start yelling at him, to get mad for even bringing this topic up in the first place so shortly after his grandmother died. The reply that ended up coming was none of that, but also not what David had hoped for. The other was trying to avoid the serious conversation, something he’d already noticed him do a few times now that he was sober enough to pick up on something like that. Fingertips drawing circles on the other’s lower back to soothe his stiffened muscles, he turned his head when he felt Taner shift as well. A crooked smile appeared on his lips, and he shook his head a little. “I doubt I’m the right role model for anyone,” he mumbled. There had been plenty of articles written about his new lifestyle, change of thought, whatever journalists could think of to make his story into more than it was. To David himself, he’d simply been the worst possible version he could be, and now he was doing slightly better.
Now that Taner was looking at him, David found himself getting lost in the other’s eyes, fingers pushing back the dark strands falling into his forehead. A sigh escaped his lips, and he closed his eyes as he braved himself for saying something that would leave him incredibly vulnerable. “Listen, I just don’t want anything to happen to you, okay?” He opened his eyes again, looking at the other with an almost pleading look in his eyes. “And you can come to me. If you need anything, whatever it is, or just want a place to crash or... I don’t know. You can come to me.”
