Jul 24
so i never posted kit..
he's also up on artfight if you'd like to read some basic info i put about him up there
seen from United States
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seen from Malaysia
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from United States
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seen from United States
so i never posted kit..
he's also up on artfight if you'd like to read some basic info i put about him up there
Sober 9
masterlist next
sorry for the huge delay, i can't promise it won't happen again
content: second person pov, choose your own adventure, addiction whump, addict whumpee, drunk whumpee, rocky recovery, recovery fic, perceived abandonment
No, you weren't about to drink even more. This was fine. Everything would be fine if you just held out and did this for Kit, even if you couldn't do it for yourself. You stood up, rinsed your mouth, and went back to the kitchen to attempt to force the pancakes down.
You felt Kit's eyes on you as you chewed and chewed and chewed that first bite, but couldn't get yourself to swallow. You didn't look up, you didn't want to see concern on their face, you just had to swallow. You couldn't.
"Sam..." they started, but you held up a shaky hand to stop them.
"I'm fine," you lied, pancake still in your mouth, having turned into a disgusting, vaguely alcoholic, mushy mess. "I just... I just need a second..."
"In the hospital, they could put you on IV fluids. And you could get nutrients in you."
For some reason, them bringing up the hospital again felt less like worry and more like abandonment. Were you too big of a bite for them to chew?
Press them on it?
"Do you want to pass me off to hospital staff?"
"Am I too much of a bother?"
"Do you... not like me anymore?"
"I thought we'd settled the hospital thing."
Say nothing. Continue trying to eat.
Excuse yourself and have a small drink. You can't do this sober.
Excuse yourself and have a lot to drink. You can't do this sober.
Sober 8
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content: second person pov, choose your own adventure, addiction whump, addict whumpee, drunk whumpee, emeto, rocky recovery, recovery fic
You were this close to playing it off and just saying it was 'normal'. But you'd already been honest about your suicidal ideation, why not tack this on as well?
"I... I might have alcohol poisoning. I don't feel good."
"Alcohol poiso— How much have you had to drink?" Kit asked, grave concern evident in their voice.
You didn't want to admit you started your day with half a bottle of Jack Daniel's, right after downing a whole bottle the night before around midnight. But what were you supposed to do? It was the only way to stop the shakes.
"Maybe a little too much," you said, then retched again.
"I'm going to call an ambulance," Kit said, but you immediately grabbed them by the pant leg to keep them in the bathroom.
"No. No. No ambulance. I'm here because I didn't want to be dragged off into detox. Please."
"Sam, this is serious."
"Please."
Kit looked at you, so painfully compassionate and caring as you sat on the bathroom floor, puking your guts out. Unbearably so. They sighed. "Okay. I... Okay. We'll try to solve this at home."
"Thank you."
"Do you feel any better now that you've thrown up?"
No. "Yes."
"Good. That's at least good. I'll wait for you in the kitchen, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you, Kit."
"Of course."
As soon as Kit left, your mind wandered. Not to the possibility of a life-altering alcohol poisoning, potentially fatal if left untreated, but to the flask in your waistband.
Drink. It's been too long.
Drink just a little. A few gulps.
Just a sip. Take just a sip.
Get yourself together and get back to Kit in the kitchen.
Sober 6
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content: second person pov, choose your own adventure, addiction whump, addict whumpee, drunk whumpee, rocky recovery, recovery fic
No. You could hold it, for just a little while.
You stumbled out of the hallway into the kitchen and took a seat. Pancakes. You knew you smelled something sweet.
"Bon appetit," Kit said with a horrible french accent, placing a plate before you. Four pancakes, with a cube of butter on top and maple syrup trickling down the sides. Just how you used to like it. You didn't want it now. "Something the matter?"
Yes. I want to drink, not eat.
"Nothing," you lied, and picked up your fork. "Thank you."
"Okay," they said a little suspiciously, but then smiled at you and sat down with their own plate of pancakes. "So... How were these past months?"
How were these past months?
Good. You're fine.
So-so. Could've been worse.
So-so. Could've been better.
Bad. You're not fine.
Horrible. You've thought about ending it.
Sober 5
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content: second person pov, choose your own adventure, addiction whump, addict whumpee, drunk whumpee, rocky recovery, recovery fic
No, you were not doing this. Though it was tempting to just take one sip, one tiny sip, it was almost equally tempting to go outside and straight up admit to Kit you brought this with you. In the end, you just decided not to drink, and that was that.
The warm water felt amazing on your clammy skin, though all you could think about was the flask on the washing machine. How would Kit react if they knew the extent of the damage you'd done to your brain?
Once done, you towelled yourself dry and put your clothes back on, flask hidden in your waistband. You walked out and the smell of breakfast immediately made you nauseous. But you could force it down for Kit, right?
Or... you could hang back for just a tiny bit longer and steal a swig. Your hands were itching to grab the flask and down some of the horrible whiskey you'd brought.
Drink. It's been too long.
Drink, then go eat breakfast.
Take a sip. Just a sip.
Take a sip. Just a sip. Then go eat breakfast.
No, you made a promise to yourself. Just go and eat breakfast.
Sober 4
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content: second person pov, choose your own adventure, addiction whump, addict whumpee, drunk whumpee, nonsexual nudity
"Would it be okay if I used the shower?" you asked timidly.
"Of course. Look, Sam... You've been here plenty of times. You're my best friend. You've used that shower without asking a hundred times. So don't make a big deal out of this, okay? Why don't we just... treat this as normal? Like an extended sleepover?"
"Okay," you said, but it was clear to both of you that none of this was normal. "I'll go take a shower, then."
"I'll make us breakfast."
You locked yourself into the bathroom and started stripping. You put the flask on top of the washing machine, wondering why you even pretended to want to get sober when you were bringing along half a litre of spirits. You were a joke.
You hesitated. You could turn on the shower and drink a little while the water was running, or you could really wash off the smell of alcohol. Or you could drink, then shower.
Drink. It's been too long.
Drink, then shower.
No, you're not doing this. Just shower.
Just a sip. A quick sip.
Shower, then admit to Kit you brought spirits with you.
Sober 3
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content: second person pov, choose your own adventure, addiction whump, addict whumpee, drunk whumpee, substance abuse whump (alcohol)
"I... I need help," you admitted quietly.
"Yeah, of course. Anything I can do to help, I will do." They opened their mouth to say something else, but closed it without actually saying it. You could tell they were likely trying to be polite, and didn't know how to breach the subject of your drinking. So you decided to take on the burden that was yours to begin with.
"I can't stop drinking. I'm... I'm drunk right now."
"Yeah, I... I could tell. I can tell. I just— Sam, I— Look, I— Man, I'm terrible at this," they laughed a little, but it was humourless.
"That's okay," you hurried to say. "Being with you— I thought... If it's okay with you, if I can even— Oh my goodness, I can't believe I'm asking this of you after months of no-contact. But, like, can I... Can I move in for a bit? To get sober? I need serious help, I need accountability, but I'm so, so deathly scared of rehab and detox and all that. If I could just be here, and you would not let me get alcohol—"
"Sam, you know I work during the day. I can't possibly monitor you all the time."
"Right. Of course. I know that. I'll do my best to stay away from the bottle during the day when you're out of the house, but I think it'd be so beneficial if you were able to keep an eye on me at night, when it's the worst."
"Okay," Kit said gently. "Come in. We'll talk this over. I'm just so happy you're here."
You walked inside and took a seat on the couch, plopping down, uncoordinated and clumsy. Kit sat next to you.
So... What was your plan, exactly?
Talk about your fears of rehab.
Reiterate you want Kit to monitor you whenever they can.
Ask to look up at-home detoxing methods.
Hug them again. Just be there, cuddle, like old times.
Ask if you can use the shower. You smell like alcohol, and you hate it.
Ask if Kit still has your stuff in their guest bedroom.
Sneak off and drink, just a little.
Stand back up and leave. You changed your mind. You can't let go of this yet.
Sober 2
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content: second person pov, choose your own adventure, addiction whump, addict whumpee, drunk whumpee, substance abuse whump (alcohol), weight talk (brief)
"Uh, hey..." you slurred, and you knew you were slurring, and you knew it was obvious you were already drunk at nine in the morning. What a stupid thing to start with. Or was a greeting in order?
Kit didn't seem to mind. They jumped into your arms, hugging you so tight you were sure they could smell the alcohol. So tight you wondered if they could feel the outline of the flask you hid beneath your clothes that didn't quite fit you anymore. Drinking several bottles per day didn't exactly do your waistline any good.
"I missed you so much," Kit said, and you could hear tears in their voice. "I was so worried. But I didn't want to intrude, I didn't know whether to harass you further or give you space, I didn't know..."
"Thank you for trying," you said. "I'm sorry I disappeared on you."
Kit drew back, giving you a teary smile. "It's okay. Do you want to come in?"
Your plan was actually to ask for help. You wanted to put down the bottle, and with famously unsupportive parents, Kit was your only viable option. But you could still change your mind. You hadn't said anything yet.
"I... I need help."
"I'm sorry, I can't do this. I thought I was ready, but I'm... I'm not."
"I would like to come in."
"I'm... an alcoholic now."
"Are you sure you want me in your home?"
Feel the flask beneath your clothes. For comfort.
Leave. You changed your mind.