Pst- hey if it’s ok with you before the floor swallows me can I get some more Houston angst
Absolutely!! I actually had one written last night or so when I was Going Through It(tm)
Also i felt the "floor swallowing me" thing, hope it passes soon <3
Would He
The silence isn't as welcoming as it used to be.
Over the months turned to years, Houston has grown comfortable with this odd position he holds in the gang. He's the shadow standing in the corner, and a punching bag for a man with more rage than his mind could cope with (the betrayal of being replaced and abandoned still sparking in his eyes every so often). He's the skeleton from the Chief's closet, following him close, waiting for a moment to catch his attention.
Time didn't heal wounds. It just became easier to tend them.
Off in the main room of the safehouse, the majority of the gang watches movies, celebrating a month of good work. Sangres and Jiro had gone off on their own after the first movie, Jiro deciding to head to bed for the evening, and Sangres just tired of the stuffy air. Houston had attempted to talk with his brother, but Dallas- always more focused on things that weren't Houston, had brushed him off.
Houston gave up and returned to the balcony. His fingers had gone to light a cig, but the desire wasn't there, and he’d put the lighter back in his pocket.
He jumps when the door behind him slides open.
"The 'ell are you doin' out here?" Hoxton asks, the door shutting behind him. "Hate fun?" The Brit pulls out a cigarette, and Houston absentmindedly hands him his lighter.
Hoxton blinks, then cautiously takes it. When he returns it, it's with a quiet 'thank you'.
The silence is the closest to comfortable it can be. Before Hoxton had come out, it was suffocating Houston. Too loud.
Now, it just was.
"Hey, Hoxton." Houston starts, his voice low. He waits for Hoxton to grunt. When he does, the mechanic continues. "Would Dallas… be sad if something happened to me?"
The surprised flinch is unnoticed, and Hoxton turns to him. "What'd'you mean?"
"Would he care?"
The Brit grows somber and looks out off the balcony, standing next to the other man in contemplation.
Eventually… "Do you want an honest answer?"
"Yeah."
"I don't know." Hoxton looks remorseful, worried. "Why?"
Houston stays silent, a part of him not wanting to burden Hoxton with his woes. He shrugs, staring at the ground.
"You two aren't close." Hoxton says.
"No. Were when I was really little, but otherwise, we don't talk." Sighing, Houston rests his head on his hand. "Was just… thinking. Don't worry about it."
"Well, now that you've said that, I'm going to." A sad smile appears on Houston’s face, but it fades quickly.
"I just wonder, y'know. If he would care if I died."
Hoxton makes a noise, wanting to say something. Instead, he pats Houston’s shoulder. It's awkward, not forced, but uncomfortable. "A lot of us would."
Houston nods. Hoxton goes to say more, but a crash inside, followed by incoherent Swedish and a frantic sounding Jimmy, alerts the two. They turn to look in the door, neither eager to go investigate.
Until Wolf starts calling for Hoxton. "Ah, I better-"
"Yeah, probably."
Hoxton opens the door, turning once to Houston to speak, only to be interrupted by Jimmy. More crashing and yelling.
"Oh my God, what did you do?" Hoxton shouts, rushing to the two.
Houston shuts the door, shaking his head. Eventually, he sits with his back against the wall.
He's not sure how long he's out there for. By the time the door opens again, he's gone stiff, body aching.
"You alright?" Jimmy asks. Houston nods.
Jimmy plops down next to him. "When I worked for Akan, I wondered, you know, if anything I did mattered. I was always in pain, and watching everyone around me. I'd go up to the roof sometimes, think about if it'd matter if I died, or vanished, you know."
"Yeah."
Jimmy stares at the sky. "If I had, then I wouldn't have gotten to meet you lot. Never would've stopped Akan." He turns back to Houston. "Out there… there's somethin' for ya. I'm sure of it." Jimmy claps Houston on the back and stands. "I mean it. And if you ever need to chat, you know where to find me."
Houston stares, watching as the man heads back to his bar. Wolf and Hoxton are asleep on the couch, Dallas throwing a blanket over them.
He should sleep, too.
Houston gets up, stretching as he steps back in, closing the door. Dallas turns to him. "Were you outside all night?"
The younger Steele nods, pulling the curtain shut.
"Are you…" Dallas shifts. "Are you okay?"
"Mhm." Houston walks past him, refusing to look.
A quiet sigh, almost a whimper. "Hey, Derek… I-"
"Don't. Just… just don't." Houston snaps. He keeps walking.
Behind him, Dallas's outstretched arm falls to his side.
He watches as Houston walks away, before turning and going his own direction.