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[harshboldcharm]

 It was late and he shouldn't have been out. No, he should have stayed home and drunk himself into a coma and passed out on his floor in the apartment. Instead, he decided to parade his night of misery all over town, bar hopping and getting kicked out of two. He stumbled upon the one he was at, though he didn't actually enter the bar. They were passed closing time and he was too drunk to get another one anyway. Maybe he wasn't that drunk. It could have just felt like he was trashed. There was a really shitty combination of something going on in his head. 

He anxiously grabbed a cigarette from the pack he carried in his pocket. He'd gone through almost an entire pack in a night, which was unlike him in so many ways. Lighting it, he took a long drag and felt for a few moments how that might just save him from himself for now before he had to stumble home and make his way to bed. He'd be lucky if he got there. Not on nights like this. Not tonight. Not this day.

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It had been the busiest night Johnny had seen at the little bar in a long time. Most people that came in were regulars, or a few of the locals that knew the place even existed. It wasn't so much that they didn't have a sign, they did. It was just that the owner was too cheap most weeks to bother paying for maintenance. So no matter when they were open, the place just looked closed anyway. The tinted windows really didn't help to say the least.

Johnny was going to be fucking glad to just get the hell out and go crash in his bed. He hadn't heard from Wylie all day, the only message he left him was just one saying he would definitely not be getting out early. He was in for the long haul. He didn't like to badger the guy with twenty text messages a day. They weren't exactly a couple yet, and they weren't exactly just fuck buddies either. Johnny still didn't know what they were, just that he didn't want to fuck with the equilibrium they had managed to hold onto. No matter how vague an equilibrium it was.

There was a brief, fleeting thought of going to see Wylie, hope that he was even still awake, but Johnny dismissed it as he pulled his jacket on and stepped out into the late night air. He would be better to just get some sleep and maybe hope that tomorrow would see a visit with the other man.

He almost did a double take after he'd pulled the keys out of the lock, the silhouette way too familiar to ignore. "Wylie?"

[harshboldcharm.livejournal.com]

He only vaguely registered that someone had said his name, let alone a very familiar someone. He ran his hand through his hair. The usual mohawk with buzzed sides had grown out significantly lately and where his naturally blonde hair was coming was a high contrast to the black he usually dyed it. He took another drag from his cigarette and looked up, finally meeting the gaze of Johnny. "Hey," it was all he could manage.

He wasn't wearing a jacket. It looked like Wylie was asking to get sick or hit by a car or something, because nothing about his usual charm and confidence was showing through. He looked more like an injured kid than anything.

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"Wylie," Johnny said again, but this time it was filled with more concern. Something protective switched on inside him and he peeled off his jacket to slip it around his lover's shoulders. He was still running hot from working all night, so putting it on in the first place had been more habit than anything. He noticed the cigarette and frowned a little. Johnny had been the only one indulging in the habit, so seeing Wylie smoke was new to him.

He ran his hand over Wylie's hair and tried to hold his gaze. "Babe, what's wrong? You okay?"

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His eyes were glazed over from heavy drinking. He probably smelled like the inside of a bar and tasted like an ash tray. He felt Johnny's hand run through his hair and he instinctively leaned into it before shaking himself out of it and looking up. He took one last drag from the cigarette and dropped it to the ground, putting it out with his shoe. He ran his hand over his face and sniffed, looking like he was only barely coming out of a haze. "What time is it?" he asked.

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Johnny bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from pressing the issue, thinking there had to be a reason why Wylie was standing outside in the cool air smelling worse than he did even though he'd just spent close to ten hours inside a bar. "Nearly two in the morning. I think it's technically tomorrow... Today's gone." Johnny slipped his arm around Wylie's shoulders as he started to pull him in the direction of his apartment. "Let's get you some coffee, huh?"

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He was too far gone to be combative even if he wanted to. His instinct was to pull away and go the other direction. He'd rather mourn in peace. It was only once a year he let himself get like this. Once a year... this year he wasn't alone. He let out a sort of groaning sound as Johnny pealed him from the wall. He shook his head, "don't need anything..." He reached back into his pocket and pulled out his pack again, taking the last cigarette and lighting it with his lighter. He was quite the chain smoker tonight.

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Johnny kept a hold of Wylie even if he was still bracing himself for a fight. He didn't need to be a genius to tell that something really was behind the bender. He also wasn't about to leave Wylie alone. "I don't care. I'm still going to give you coffee, and you're going to sleep at my place. You really wanna try and be a prick about this? I've just served a whole bar of douches, right now I think I can out prick you."

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He tugged on his hair again, pulling it out of his eyes. He was reluctantly leaning into Johnny. He was in the mood to fight, but didn't have the energy. He'd already been kicked out a couple bars tonight. "You don't need to watch out for me. I can get home," he argued, mostly for the sake of arguing. He really had no purpose in being this way. He was just doing it because he could. Because he was still half drunk.

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Johnny breathed out through his nose to kill the frustration rising up in him. When Alice was being difficult he'd actually gotten pretty good at keeping calm, and just waiting it out. With Wylie he seemed to automatically want to bite back, and he couldn't even say why. "It's about me wanting to watch you for you, so you just get to put up with this." He turned his head as he sighed and then kissed the top of Wylie's, smiling wryly against his hair. "It's either the coffee, or I stick you in a cold shower."

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Wylie let out an incoherent grumble. It meant mostly nothing but the sound of frustration. He had yet to consider that this might be just as frustrating for Johnny, if not more. His eyes closed as he walked, letting out a sigh. He was by no means calm or feeling any better, but he was worn out and losing steam. He swallowed, trying to wet his dry throat. He dropped the cigarette and let out another nondescript mumble. This time it sounded like another protest, but it was weak, to say the least.

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Johnny just gave up on trying to talk sense into Wylie and led him as quickly as he could to his apartment, before he fished his keys and a spare cigarette out of his jeans' pocket. He slipped the nicotine stick between Wylie's lips with a slight smile, wondering if that would keep him quiet before he opened up the main door and headed to the elevator.

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Wylie didn't even realize he was being given another cigarette before he had one and then he was too distracted to argue with Johnny about being at his apartment. In fact, he lit it and by time they were there, he leaned his back to the wall, head back and eyes shut. He felt dead to the world and nothing about this kind of drunk felt right. It just hurt, all over.

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Johnny pulled out another cigarette for himself, lucky that it was too late - or early - for any of his neighbours to be awake. Because of Alice, he'd chosen an apartment building that was more family orientated than the type he should probably be in. He also made sure the walls were more than well-insulated given his preferred type of extra-curricular activity.

He scrubbed a hand over his face after he'd lit the cigarette and exhaled on the next beat before running his tongue over his lips and watching Wylie as they waited for the elevator. "You really don't want to talk about it, do you? Is this part of why you tried to warn me away?"

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Wylie opened on eye and shook his head, before closing it again. He took another drag and shrugged. "One night every year... that's all I give myself," he replied. It didn't at all answer the question, but he wasn't currently coherent enough to tell the story as it should be said. It wouldn't be giving the right kind of respect to those involved. However, just before the elevator arrived, he opened both eyes and looked at Johnny, a suddenly solemn and pained expression on his face, "you'll think different of me."

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Johnny blew out a stream of smoke towards the ceiling and hooked his arm around Wylie again to pull him into the elevator now that it had arrived. "You know how I made assumptions about you in the coffee shop? Well, now you're making them about me. At least give a guy a chance before cutting him down for being a jerk." He tucked the cigarette between his lips, letting it hang from the corner of his mouth as his took Wylie's face in his hand and brushed his thumb over his cheek. It was true that he was cuddly, and into PDA. He couldn't help it. He was a tactile person, and he expressed himself physically. It was usually better than anything he could say. "So this would be the one night, yeah?"

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That tender look broke him. He looked like everything he'd ever held up to keep people out, fell apart and out of the way. Wylie noticed then that he had to reek and that it was stupid that Johnny was willing to put up with him at all. Hell, Wylie wasn't even that good of a guy on his best days. He took a deep breath, cigarette between his fingers as he simply stared back. "Just one night," he repeated. There was a sharp reminder in the back of his head about why. "I can't tell you while I still feel like shit... can I use your shower?"

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"'Course you can. You can make yourself as comfortable as you're capable of making yourself," Johnny told him with a slightly amused look. "And if there's anything in my closet that you could deem even a little suitable for you to wear, you can borrow any of my clothes, too. I'll get yours in the washer. The elevator dinged and Johnny broke eye contact so that he could guide Wylie to his apartment, let the poor guy wash off some of his bad night. "I'll make the coffee, you shower. You hungry? You should probably put something in your stomach. Maybe just some toast?"

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It was nice - which he didn't want to admit - to have someone who was willing to help him out. Or at least someone willing to make sure he didn't stumble his way into an alley and pass out. There was always that possibility when it came to him on nights like this. Wylie just nodded. He couldn't convince himself to say much else at the moment. He offered food and that actually made his stomach turn. He gave a sort of nauseated look and shrugged. He wasn't in the mood to be picky.

Once they made it inside his apartment, Wylie didn't bother saying anything else. He just wandered off towards the shower. Cranking the heat up to an uncomfortable temperature, he stood under the stream, hardly thinking, willing himself to breath only. At least he wouldn't smell disgusting. He couldn't bare to be in there longer than necessary and it did help somewhat, so when he climbed out and grabbed a pair of Johnny's sweats to wear, he gave up and figured that was suitable enough. He didn't make it much further out of the room until he sat himself heavily on the couch, slouching, legs splayed and a hand over his eyes.

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Johnny heard the water get shut off, and once he'd finished making the coffee he brought the mugs into the main room, a plate of toast balanced on his forearm. It was as much for him as it was for Wylie, Johnny starving after his shift. It just had a few extra slices than he would normally have.

He sat the mug of black coffee in front of Wylie on the coffee table while keeping hold of his. He sat down next to his younger man and dropped a couple aspirin into his open palm. "Gotta say, it's sexy as shit seeing you in my sweats, but I realise this isn't really the time to be telling you something like that."

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Wylie snorted a laugh, cracking a smile for the first time all night, when Johnny commented on the current state of his clothing situation. He reached forward for the coffee, downing the pills and then relaxed back again, balancing the mug on his knee, fingers laced through the handle. He looked at the toast, but absolutely could not convince himself that eating would help. In fact, he was pretty sure it would come back to bite him, so though he appreciated the gesture, he realized he'd rather not be throwing up the same thing later.

"Thanks," he said softly. It took him a moment to get up the courage to look over at him. He hated feeling this vulnerable. He hated having to think about days like this and though it only came once a year... it was enough to ruin him. At least it felt that way.

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Johnny smiled a little too, relieved to see that Wylie was at least still alive. He patted his leg gently before taking a sip of his coffee and just sat quietly. If Wylie wanted to talk, he would talk. Otherwise Johnny would just keep him company at least.

He pulled his mouth to the side in thought as he looked at the other man. "Whatever else you might think, I do actually care about you. So you're welcome, but you really don't need to thank me. Call this my good deed for the day. I had to do one eventually."

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He smirked, but couldn't get himself to say anything else. He would have when he was feeling up to it, but it was fairly clear that this wasn't one of those times. He gave a long exaggerated sigh, leaning his head back and shutting his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. He needed to just tell him.

"My biological father died before I can remember. He had a heart condition," he paused, "my mom was my hero. She raised me on her own and luckily she met another guy, one that could take care of her. Garrett, my step-dad was anything I would have needed in a father. I think I was five when they married." He paused again, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling this time.

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Again, Johnny stayed quiet, but his expression had shifted into one of sadness. Losing a parent was never going to be easy, even if you didn't remember them. He let his hand rest on Wylie's thigh and waited for the rest.

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"When I was about eight, my mom left me at home with Garrett - which wasn't weird - while she and her friends had a girls' trip out to Vegas. On their way back, they stopped just outside the city at a gas station. She called home from a pay phone to say hello and let me know she'd be home soon. We exchanged I love you's and that was it," he swallowed hard, tensing slightly. "Two hours later she was reported missing. Thirteen hours after that they found her body in a ditch of the highway about a mile and a half from that pay phone. She'd been sexually assaulted and murdered. Slit her throat..." Wylie took a deep breath. He had to take a second.

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Johnny had to set his mug of coffee between his knees so that he could cover his mouth with his hand. His stomach twisted at the visual, and just how emotional Wylie had to be to even remember this... To be living with it. He couldn't think of anything to say, so there was another squeeze of Wylie's thigh as he just looked at him. He thought he could feel tears welling up in his eyes but he wasn't really sure. He just never understood the assholes that did shit like that. "Fuck..."