tw: reference to domestic violence, aftermath of violence, drunk idiots, bffs
Practice Makes Perfect - 17
Asher had Darlin by the wrist as soon as they were in the apartment, hauling them toward the bathroom. “Start the waffles!” He pointed back at David who flipped him off but went into the kitchen.
“Why are we going away from the waffles?” Darlin asked, still drunk.
“Your shirt is wrecked. We're cleaning up.” Chances were good if they settled into the living room to eat waffles they'd end up passing out there. Best to clean up and change clothes first.
He pushed into the bathroom and turned Darlin to lean against the counter. “I’m sorry I knocked you over,” Asher said, grabbing a washcloth and getting it wet.
Darlin sat on the counter. “I think I knocked you over.”
“No you didn't.” Asher pulled their shirt up, deciding to clean Darlin up first and then himself. Darlin lifted their arms, the one on their hurt side only going halfway up. Asher was careful getting the shirt off and then tossed it into the corner near the tub.
Darlin frowned down at themself, sticky with bloodsmears but for the area around the bandaged wound the paramedic had cleaned up. “Should I just get in the shower?”
“And fuck up the patch job?” Asher was aghast. He turned on the sink and let the water warm up before soaking the washcloth. They cleaned Darlin up, quickly earning a drink smile and a couple remarks about spongebaths.
Asher was extra careful on the side around the injury, not that Darlin winced or complained.
“So, you know the hot paramedic?”
Asher blinked and then smiled. “Yeah, kinda. I mean we met once.”
“A one night stand?”
Asher snorted, moving to their other side. He was about to reply when he noticed that deep bruises splotching their ribs. They were sallow, not unlike that bruise under their eye. He pretended not to notice, to buy himself a little more time to look at them and figure out what to say. He cleaned their arm from shoulder to wrist and then their hand and fingers–looking at the scabs on their knuckles. Darlin always fought back.
Asher wasn’t new to fights or bruises. This looked like someone had jabbed a couple punches into their side. The only problem was, he hadn’t heard about Darlin getting into any fights recently. Since when did Darlin hide fights from them? They were usually with them.
He was about to ask outright, when he saw it. His gaze slid past their shoulder, landing on their reflection in the mirror. More bruises on their back and there, between their shoulder and their neck, was a nasty looking bite. It had broken skin. “Darlin…” He curled a hand around the back of their neck, pulling them forward into him to get a look at the injury. “What the actual fuck–”
Darlin tensed and jerked back, but he could still see it in the mirror. “It’s nothing.”
“Who did that?”
Darlin’s face screwed up. They took the washcloth from him and gave their face a scrub before tossing it into the corner with the ruined shirt. “I’mma borrow something from David’s room…” they trailed, going for the open doorway.
Asher caught their arm. “Tell me who,” he said.
Darlin wrinkled their nose. “Drop it. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine.”
“It was a one time thing.”
“What was the thing?” Asher’s heart squeezed.
Darlin hesitated, the answer seemingly caught in their throat.
Asher waited.
“It was just a fight.”
Asher wasn’t sure he believed that. “With your roommate?”
Darlin sucked air through their teeth and shook off his hold. “Seriously? Don’t worry about it.” They crossed the hall for David’s room.
“Are you shitting me? Someone bit you!” He followed, looking at that damn bite. If it wasn’t for the bruises, he might have been able to consider this was some sort of roleplay that had gotten out of hand. He could even back off if Darlin said it was what they were into and not his business…but they’d clearly been beaten up.
“Fucking shut up before–”
“What are you talking about?” David was down the hall, brow creased when he followed them into his own room.
“Was it the roommate?” Asher pressed again, attention fixed on Darlin.
Darlin turned around to face them both. “Back off!” Asher was having flashback to when they were teens–and when Darlin had tried to hide that their dad had been knocking them around.
David groaned. “Jesus. You’re both drunk. Calm down and–” He must have noticed the bruises too because his words cut off and Asher could feel his peace-keeper mode snap over to protective. “What happened?”
Darlin rolled their eyes but they were glassy now, looking anywhere but at the two of them.
Asher realized then that they were between Darlin and the exit. It hadn’t been his plan, but he’d cornered them. Swearing under his breath, Ash moved forward, opening a drawer and pulling out a piece of clothing. He slammed it shut and held the shirt out.
Darlin took it, pulling it on.
“The roommate?” he asked again, almost a whisper but plenty loud in the hush of that room.
Darlin’s jaw ticked but they didn’t say anything. They never did. They never had to.
Asher waited until they finally met his gaze. “We’ll get your stuff tomorrow.” And they would talk about this more when they were both sober.
Darlin looked away again. “I can get my own–”
“We’ll get your stuff tomorrow,” Asher said again. “But tonight we’ll eat waffles until you barf and then camp out in the living room.”
Darlin tried to cross their arms only to remember they had fresh stitches in their side and wince. “Fuck…”
“Yeah.” Asher turned, leading the way back out of the room past David and into the bathroom to clean up. He was trying real hard not to think about teeth in Darlin’s skin and how that could have happened and why Darlin hadn’t told them.
-
Darlin scrubbed a hand over their face, still feeling numb and tipsy, but also warm and overwhelmed.
Asher knew and now David knew.
“I can just crash on the couch and you guys–” they said, shame creeping up to choke them just like always.
David frowned. “Why would you get the couch? We pull the cushions off and make a pile on the floor…”
Like always. Like they’d been doing since they were in highschool. Darlin looked away again, feeling raw. Why were they always in the worst situations? “I’m so–”
“Don’t.” David shook his head. “If you’re sorry your roommate is an asshole, then I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.”
Their face pinched. “That doesn’t even make sense. It’s not your responsibility–”
“It’s not yours either.” David took a step closer and reached out, his hand curling around the back of their neck to pull them in. Their heads thumped together once and then his arm slung over their shoulder, leading them out of the room and down the hall. “Whatever is happening, it’s going to be okay.”
Darlin raised a curious eyebrow. “You’re drunk…”
He raised an eyebrow and looked back at them. “Am I?”
Fuck. He was such a good drunk they couldn’t tell.
David let them go when they reached the living room. He pointed at the couch and chairs. “You’re on fort duty while I make pancakes.”
“Waffles!” Asher called from the open bathroom.
Darlin sighed, grateful for the liquor still swimming in their veins, the promise of carbs and sugar, and their friends. They were also really grateful not to have to go back to that apartment tonight. Quinn was scary and Darlin was way too soft when tipsy to deal with that.
one of my favourite things about your fics that include darlin is when you refer to them as "his darlin", it is the sweetest thing ever and i melt everytime you write it. thank you for sharing your work! have a great timezone
I am so thrilled you said this! I love that detail and the difference when someone is "NAME" vs "his/her/their NAME". It's not possessive like ownership, it's belonging. I feel like (because I'm romantic in my soul) that there are people we belong to and people who belong to us in life. It doesn't mean we get to keep them, but that some part of us belongs to each other and I just... *squeezes feelings* yeah. I'm glad you liked that detail! Thank you, Anon!
You fucking know there's something wrong with me but you chose to ignore it. You chose to pretend I'm normal. You chose to pretend I don't need more help than what I'm getting and that I don't need meds and don't need someone to check me out. You only pay attention when it's convenient for you.
Father,
Fuck you. You refuse to believe I'm mentally ill and made fun of me for hurting myself and fuck you fuck you fuck you. You compare my problems to yours and say your life is worse and you forget how you hurt me but fuck you. You are not my father.
I’m sorryyyy dadddyyy... I’m from Central Europe... not sure if I wanna tell you what country though... well if you think you know why don’t you tell me? - 💕💕
