Problem? What Problem? [COMPLETE]

Deimos felt like he hadn't been able to catch a break since he got back. From the second he got back, there had been drama, and work, and general busy-ness that he felt as if he barely had time to just sit back and drink relax. At least he was no longer being sent to the other end of the school for duties. Still, working in the cafeteria wasn't good for his hands, he looked to them, they were more cut up than usual and dry. So damn dry. He sighed, opening the door to his room. He glanced over, seeing Rosalind in the bed. He was more surprised every day that went by that the faculty didn't say anything. Her clothes were in his closet, her toothbrush near his. The only thing that hadn't happened was a formal change of living arrangement in the school's system.

He went to his fridge, pulling out a drink and then grabbing an apple from the counter, before sitting right next to the fruit bowl. His alcohol was disappearing at a rate faster than usual, and he knew he wasn't drinking that much. His eyes rested on Rosie, it couldn't be her. She didn't even like the taste last time he checked. Plus, she was very much a lightweight. He thought back on his previous night's alcohol consumption, it couldn't have been him alone.

He finished up the apple and hopped down off the counter, tossing the core in the trash. As he was opening the bottle, his eyes drifted back to the trash can, noticing something he hadn't seen before the trash got rearranged. He picked up the empty bottle from the trash can. Interesting. He thought to himself, tossing it back in the trash. He drank the bottle in his hands and tossed it before heading to the bed, sitting on the edge and leaning back, looking up at his ceiling, waiting to see if Rosie would react to him. Would she pretend to be sleeping? Was she actually sleeping? Would she lie to him? He knew he had done a lot of lying before admitting to himself and, well, anyone, that he had a drinking problem. Did he turn Rosie into an alcoholic? Were fairies more susceptible or something?

Deimos finally turned to look at her, giving her a smile, Hello. He said simply. He leaned back more so he was on his elbows, He debated for a moment if he wanted to pretend he hadn't noticed the missing bottle, but decided to just get straight to the point. So uh... how was the pineapple rum? He asked, raising an eyebrow as he gave her a skeptical look. He felt like he wasn't wrong, but he really hoped he wasn't falsely accusing her. He knew no one else that would've gotten into it though.

Deimos chewed on his bottom lip, staring at her for a while before finally shaking his head and looking down, No, I'm not mad. I mean, a little. But that's just cause I was looking forward to that one. He crawled on the bed properly, laying on his stomach and propping his head up with his hands. I was only gone three weeks, Rosie. He stated simply, and there's quite a bit missing so I hate to say I don't think you're being honest with me. He lowered his arms and rested his head on them, don't become like me. I'm sorry you've been having the nightmare so often. I'm sorry I wasn't here to protect you. But you can't turn to alcohol to solve your problems, trust me, I know. It's a temporary solution, you can't... he ran out of steam, just shaking his head. You need to fix this before it's too far gone. You won't drink your problems away.

He felt like he could've been talking to himself. If she used his excuses, then he'd really be worried. Of course he didn't want her having nightmares, but he also didn't want her to get lost in the rabbit hole that was alcoholism. It was like you could watch yourself going down, but you couldn't stop it, you couldn't grab your own hand and pull yourself up. He wanted to grab Rosie's hand before it was too late. Before she couldn't be reached anymore. I won't let you keep doing this. He told her firmly, finally looking back at her.

Deimos flinched as he looked up and saw she was crying. He scrambled to move so he could hold her, pulling her close to him. I said almost the exact same thing, you know, when I was confronted about it. He told her simply. He wished he knew how to tell her to redirect it to something else less harmful. He didn't know how to do that himself; he'd just gone from being addicted to pain killers to being addicted to alcohol. If he quit alcohol, who knew what vice he'd end up with next. He wished he knew what to say, but he didn't. By the time he was confronted about his drinking, he was too far gone, and all he did was make it less noticeable. Drink only at night and on days off, so it didn't interfere with any work he had. No one told him how to stop. No one gave him solutions to make it better. He felt like saying he was here now. That she didn't have to be scared anymore. But he couldn't stop her from dreaming. He couldn't alter her dreams.

He let her cry, running a hand through her hair slowly, waiting for her to calm down. He was at a complete loss. Telling her to get help was too risky, what if she asked him to join her? He really didn't want to find out what he'd turn to next to slowly kill him. He buried his face in her hair, kissing her head. I really don't want you to face this problem. It's a black hole, you can't escape. You still have time to go the other way though. We'll find something, he paused, mentally adding to himself, hopefully, before continuing, just please try, Rosie? Don't become this.

He wondered if anyone had told him any of this, if he would've changed his mind. He'd always liked alcohol, his parents let him try it as a kid (only a few sips on occasion though), it was only after the murder did he start trying to drown in it. See how fast he could ruin his health, die quicker. After his suicide attempt, the drinking got even worse, and now he was here. But if someone had said even just 'I'm worried about you,' or helped him, would he have been able to save himself? He had been forced to do therapy after he was out of the hospital, but it didn't get very far, despite the therapist knowing sign language. He hadn't wanted to talk. He'd spend an hour, arms crossed, legs crossed, staring at her as she tried to get him to talk. If he had opened up at that time, how would that have made a difference? So many what ifs, it felt like he was making his head spin. He focused back on here and now. Trying to help his girlfriend not go down that same path of self-destruction. Finally, he gave in, I'm with you now. I'm here. I'm not going to leave again. He told her, hoping this time it was a promise he could keep.

Deimos froze. He knew she'd turn it on him, but like this. Not in a way that made his breath catch in his throat and his heart lurch. He didn't expect her to turn it on him in a way that made it so that he actually wanted to agree. He stayed silent for quite a while, just taking in her words, letting them really soak in. He'd never heard those before, either, you don't have to do it by yourself. He heard similar phrases from his parents, but never like that. He didn't know what else he could use to take away the pain though, not without utterly wearing out Rosie. He sighed, not able to organize his thoughts enough.

Well, for starters, fairies live a very long time, and no one knows how long hybrids live so... He was trying to make light of the situation, get her to stop crying, but it came out more sardonic than he meant it to be. He sighed, just going for serious and brutally honest, I'm scared to stop, Rosie. The last time I didn't have some sort of vice I... He hesitated, he'd never told anyone about his suicide attempt. He had planned to never tell anyone. But even though he knew it was an irrational fear, it was still a fear, I'm afraid I'll try to kill myself.. again. No one knows how old hybrids can live because they always die young. That terrifies me. With alcohol, at least I an be numb. He told her. I can understand where you'd feel the same for yourself, and I know it's irrational thinking, but I'm convinced if I don't have something, I'll just become another statistic. He was looking down between them, holding her hands tightly. Admitting it out loud, everything he'd faced and everything he tried to do, brought up emotions he didn't want to remember. And he knew it was still excuses, but he really believed it.

Deimos nodded, Again. He said simply, looking down and playing with the edge of his shirt, After... that, I was scared. I felt like I couldn't even predict what my next move was going to be. So I intentionally OD'ed on pain killers and alcohol. He paused, biting his lip, fidgeting more with his shirt. It's why I only get prescription strength OTCs now. He jumped as she got upset at him. He wasn't used to seeing her angry. Even before, when they were with his bio parents, he'd only felt a jolt of anger from her. He still wondered if that was even her he had felt that time.

He pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and then resting his head on his knees. Do you know how many stories are out there like the headmaster's? He's a shining example, but over 90% of hybrids die by 30. He felt angry, upset that she would compare him to the headmaster, but his thoughts only sounded like defeat. He hide his face, not knowing what to say right away. He was afraid, he was super afraid. But he also knew he finally had someone that supported him 100%, and had since day one (for some reason), and so he took a deep, shaky breath before finally looking her dead in the eyes. "Fine. If you will try to stop, I will too." He told her firmly.

I honestly don't know how he does it. Deimos told her, shaking his head. The fact that he can go about his every day so... average... I really don't know how he does it. I pretend I'm not affected by the teasing, the taunts, that it's easy to turn a blind eye, but I know you know it bothers me more than I ever show.

He let her kiss him, a bit surprised that it was more rough than expected, though not complaining. As she bumped her forehead against his, he smiled. It felt like forever ago that they were doing this, this cute, romantic gesture, when they'd only been dating just over a month now. So much had happened it felt more like years. "I love you, too." At least came easy to say. "And because I want to live as long as possible with you, I'll work on my vices. I'll try to start taking care of myself." He paused, looking to her, "But I want you to do the same."