rowan-tandel

[rowan-tandel]

1000 Picspams Challenge | #849 Archetype Inspirations | Ruined Youth

#inspo #shut up rowan #tw blood

[rowan-tandel]

chessieabernathy‌:

Chessie grateful he doesn’t insist, doesn’t try to apologize again for his hurtful words. She understands where he’s coming from, why he said what he said – It’s nothing personal, it’s just from anger. From feeling so out of control that you need the last word, no matter how much it hurts the other person.The subject at hand isn’t one she’s sure she’ll ever be able to talk to anyone, let alone Rowan, about without tears streaming down her face, or enough liquor in her system to let her guard down. Nearly nine years later and the father of her ‘secret’ child still didn’t even know his name. Chessie wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready to have a conversation about him – Let herself feel any part of that piece of her past, and even without knowing any information other than David’s existence. She was grateful to him for not pushing it, insisting on a long apology and heart felt moment. It wasn’t who either of them were, even if a crisis, even in the moments she was actually crying. 

There’s hardly enough room for both of them on her tiny excuse for a hospital bed, but she welcomes the comfort of having someone she cares for simply being close to her. It’s not often that they remind the other how important they are, but if there was ever a time for it – It’s now. Chessie curls against him without hesitation, resting her head on his shoulder. She finds it odd, even now, to think that in the time she’s been in New York, Rowan’s easily become one of her best friends. He’s a constant, as strange as it seems – Had she known as a sixteen year old, sitting at a lunch table with Sebastian and his friends, that she’d end up growing close to Rowan Tandel, son of the NYPD chief and drug dealer to bored socialites. They were an unexpected combination, but her words still rang true: He’s not going to lose her. The sentiment is mutual, and it brings a small smile to her face. She doesn’t need him to tell her these kinds of things, but it never hurts to be reminded by the important people in your life that the feeling is mutual. “Jury’s still out on that.” She teases, purely as a means of lightening the mood. They’re not criers, not the type to wear their hearts on their sleeves – They were honest and raw for a moment, but now, she’s happy to return to their usual banter. 

Chessie’s teasing voice eased something he hadn’t even been aware was wound so tight, and he felt his muscles relax minutely from where they’d been so tensed. Pulling the blankets up around Chessie’s shoulders somewhat awkwardly with his free hand, he used the other to rub her back, despite feeling a little awkward doing so. It felt more for his own sake anyway, like he needed the confirmation that she was there and he was still allowed to be this close, despite his mistakes.

Barking a somewhat wet sounding laugh, Rowan chuckled quietly, his voice relieved but still somewhat stilted when he spoke. “Well when you get it figured out, let me know- sometimes I’m not sure either.” The longer he sat, the more questions occurred to him to ask- all of which could be summarized by a simple- now what? What happened next? Home, rehab? Which one, and for how long? What happened with FREYA? It wasn’t the time to ask, that much was obvious.

#chessie

[rowan-tandel]

monty-santos‌:

“Are you sorry?” Monty asked, the question falling from his lips before he had a chance to phrase it better.  And yet it hadn’t come out bitter, but instead curious and hopeful. Like for the first time maybe there was a chance of getting his friend back - a small chance that would take time, but at least one might exist. Monty tried to push that thought to the back of his mind, tried to remind himself that he had been disappointed in the past, tried to remind himself just how miserable he’d been dealing with all of the drama.  And yet, it didn’t really matter, because he was more miserable without his friend and if anything being back in the city had taught him that life was short.  And that hanging onto that kind of negativity wasn’t worth it in the long run.  “Because I forgive you,” he continued after a few seconds, meeting Rowan’s eyes as he said the words, “for all of it. And while the apology would actually mean a lot, I forgive you either way.”

Left speechless once again, Rowan found himself desperately wishing for the cigarette pack currently sitting inside his car, not only for the calming effect nicotine always had on him, but also purely for something to do with his hands. Rowan was the type to fidget, most especially when he was uncomfortable- and he was surely uncomfortable now. He’d thought that hearing those words from Monty would ease some of the guilt he’d been carrying around, but instead he found that he found the fact that Monty forgave him whether he was sorry or not a cold comfort. 

“I am. Sorry.” He spoke after a moment, tacking on the clarification after half a moment. It felt just as lackluster as he thought it would, but he hoped it would mean something, at least. 

#monty

[rowan-tandel]

taterodriguez‌:

As Rowan opened the door, a scoff came through their lips almost naturally and Tate moved past him quickly, giving him room to close the door behind them.  He was right in one sense – Tate’s visit did not have friendly intentions.  In Tate’s defence, Rowan was the only drug dealer in New York that they were familiar enough with and could not be bothered to approach any of the ones they had the chances to interact with all those years ago.  “I want to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Tate began.  “I really don’t think you would be that stupid but please tell me you’re not fuckin’ sell coke to Quinn.”

His face, which had been resting somewhere between annoyed and resigned switched to confusion the moment Quinn’s name left Tate’s lips, and his brow furrowed. “Quinn?” He repeated disbelievingly, only for a look of shocked understanding. “No, of course not... Holy shit is Quinn using? How do you know?”

#Tate

[rowan-tandel]

Text @ finnlame

Finn: What are the chances you have a little something to hold me over until my RXs get filled on the first?

Rowan: I don't keep many painkillers on me, I have like six percs and a couple oxys. I can message my distributor but it's not going to be cheap.

Rowan: And just a warning, I'm considering not selling them at all any more after that bullshit on nye.

#Finn

[rowan-tandel]

#inspo #have i reblogged this yet? lmao

[rowan-tandel]

taterodriguez‌:

Initially when the Gossip Girl blast about Quinn had been released, Tate refused to believe that it was true.  They wanted to believe that their brother would not be so stupid to think that he was superior to dealing with addictions and that cocaine wouldn’t be able to sink their claws into him, but sure enough, it had happened.  But, Tate refused to watch their brother wither away right before their eyes which is what brought Tate to banging on the door of Rowan’s apartment.  They wanted to believe that Rowan wouldn’t be so cruel as to sell cocaine to Quinn considering how vulnerable he’d been since the break up, but a sale is a sale after all.  The chances of Quinn going anywhere else was unlikely.  “Rowan!”  Tate called.  “Open the door!”

@rowan-tandel !

If I had a dollar for every time someone’s said that to me lately... Rowan thought with an annoyed grunt, stubbing out the joint he’d been smoking and going to yank open the door, raising an eyebrow at a Tate expectantly. Of course after New Year’s, he assumed that they were here to yell at him about Chessie. He knew that the two were far from friends, but who knew. Maybe, like Sebastian, they thought he was sociopathic or stupid enough to sell a large (or improperly cut) amount of coke to someone he cared about. “Well, come on in.” He said dryly as he waved them in and closed the door behind them. “If only because you look like you’re going to yell at me and I don’t want to disturb my neighbors.”

#Tate #'a sale is a sale' U KNO WHAT #ROWAN IS OFFENDED

[rowan-tandel]

seboriley‌:

( @rowan-tandel​ ) 

It wasn’t one moment that’s inspired this kind of anger in Sebastian. Funny enough, this isn’t something he’s thought up and executed the very moment it’s entered his mind. That doesn’t mean it’s any more premeditated, however.

Over the past few days, his anger towards Rowan has become a flame on a candle wick, shaking and flailing with life, but steady, contained. It grew and shrank in nonsensical intervals. Seb thought of Rowan selling to Chessie when Sebastian was pouring cereal, Captain Crunch rattling against the ceramic glaze of the bowl. He thought about it in business meetings as he stared at the intricate designs in the carpet. He thought about it while swiveling his toothbrush around his molars and turning up the thermostat.

Now he’s banging on Rowan’s door, and it’s only when it opens that he realizes he has no plan, no words, only rage. The candle’s been knocked over, setting the tablecloth beneath it on fire. It will soon spread across the floor and consume the entire building. 

Not waiting for an invitation, Seb forces his way through the door, gruffly knocking his shoulder against Rowan’s as words start to craft themselves on his tongue before his mind has anything to do with it. “Nice, Rowan. Real fucking nice. Y’know, I thought you were reserving lethal amounts of your drugs for the everyday schlub, maybe a CEO or two, but would it kill you to show some fucking loyalty and keep it away from our own fucking circle?”

Rowan instinctively shoved back as Sebastian barged into his apartment, his face twisting from an expression of confusion to one of closed off anger. Changing course he moved to let Sebastian through, slamming the door after him and turning to face him, shoulders squaring as his own anger flared to match the level of intensity that the other man was coming at him with, even if he’d been inclined to keep his temper, which he wasn’t. Not at the moment, not with Sebastian, and certainly not when he had the balls to come to his door and start making accusations.  

“Oh I think the fuck not O’Riley. You don’t get to come into my goddamn house, shouting at me, and trotting down some moral fucking high road like you aren’t involved.” Rowan growled. “Even if I did sell that coke to Chess- which I fucking didn’t by the way asshole- you’ve handled plenty of little plastic baggies yourself, and we both know what the risks are. I keep track of how much shit I hand out, but that doesn’t change the fact that we deal drugs, not fucking vegetables. They can be dangerous when you’re an addict.” 

And there was no question of that word applying to Chessie. Even before the overdose, her words to Rowan had already proven to him what state she was in. He wondered if he had heard that last conversation between her and Rowan would make Sebastian blame him more or less. Given Rowan’s suspicions of his own roll in Chessie’ confession given their history (”David, he’s eight now.” - it was basic math.) He suspected the former. “But by all means Seb, tell me more about how you blame me for this.” Rowan said in something close to a snarl. “I like how you seem to be ignoring your own part in New York City’s drug trade.”

#Sebastian

[rowan-tandel]

monty-santos‌:

Monty instinctively took a step back at Rowan’s outburst, once again reminding himself that it was a mistake and that he probably shouldn’t have come in the first place. “I think that you’re confusing me with Celia if you really think that I would want any of that,” Monty quietly countered, “And I don’t want you to feel guilty, I just thought…” that you could use a friend, he finished in his head. But Monty knew that they weren’t friends anymore, that they were just an awkward bundle of emotions and the idea of fixing it at times seemed impossible.  But slowly a thought came through his mind, one that Monty had always known but hadn’t exactly known how to be vocal about until now, “but you didn’t fuck me over as much as you think that you did. I mean, I know that I didn’t deserve to have it all pinned on me, that much we all know. But I was high and I was drunk and I was as out of control as everyone else, and I didn’t try to stop anything. And I learned a lot from that whole incident, and it was a lesson that I think that I needed. As crazy as that sounds. And I just thought that you should know that.”

He barked another sharp laugh that sounded far from happy. Part of him wanted to just tell Monty to go. This old guilt, which had simmered in his mind for so long, that he’d tried to deny, to justify, to just plain forget it had ever happened- it had been suddenly eclipsed by another. Now every time he closed his eyes he saw some version of Chessie’s face- her expression before she slapped him, after he’d said what he��d said, laying in her hospital bed. 

And he wasn’t obtuse enough to not see how unfair that was to Monty as well. Never a word about what he’d done, no apology. He’d played it so cool he’d been ice cold to someone he’d once considered a friend, then the same thing happened to Chessie and less than twenty four hours later he was throwing himself on her hospital bed begging for forgiveness. Internally he justified it as having already learned what happened when he did it the other way, but he couldn’t imagine how Monty would feel when he found out. 

“Fuck, you just are that good of a person.” Rowan muttered almost ruefully, after a long moment of having no clue what to say. “I should have remembered. Leave it to you to turn it into a life lesson and decide to save the world because of it.” The worst of it was that it was Monty who had been fucked over, Monty who- no matter what he said- probably deserved to be caught less than the rest of them- and of course it had all just apparently made him a better person. If it had been Rowan- well, He doubted he would be quite so zen about it, and he wondered, idly and pointlessly, if it would have torn things apart so thoroughly. 

The short answer was it didn’t matter, because it was already well and thoroughly broken, and no amount of ‘I’m sorry’s or ‘can things go back to how they were?’ would make things better now. Not after Paris, not after Monty’s absence, Bishop’s bitterness, Sebastian’s isolation, Rowan’s denial- it was too much for him to think they could salvage something from the wreckage of their friendship, and he was too exhausted and heart heavy to contemplate how things might have been if it had been him sitting in French prison- if Monty, Bishop, and Sebastian would have been happy without him- it would feel just a bit too much like indulgent emotional self flagellation, something he’d been trying to limit lately. “I just- don’t know what to say to you Monty.” He finally confessed, voice cracking. “I didn’t know what to do and I just fucking left town because I didn’t know what to do then, and I sure as fuck don’t have much of a clue now either.” 

The worst part was that there were so many things Rowan wanted to tell Monty- things he would have told him if they’d still been friends, things he would have told him if they’d still been friends. Little things like songs or movies he thought Monty would like, that he could never stop picking up for all his old friends and kicked around his head without anywhere to go. Big things like Nathalie or his father’s drug task force, that he could have used Monty’s clear head and good heart to advise him on. “I’d tell you I was sorry if I thought three fucking words would mean shit after all this time.” He tacked on miserably. He’d never been great at apologies, his pride always his downfall, but that all felt rather pointless after the events of New Year’s. What did he have to be proud of?

#this got........... #long #again #I'm sorry #Rowan has a lot of Feelings about things #Monty

[rowan-tandel]

“Maybe it’s not blood bonds that make us a family. Perhaps it’s the people that know us and love us anyway. So we can finally be ourselves”. XOXO —Gossip Girl.

#I feel like not watching gg is going to make me regret posting this after y'all tell me who the dude is #but until then #inspo; chessie #also #inspo; nathalie

[rowan-tandel]

chessieabernathy‌:

Chessie doesn’t want to cry, not anymore; She’s let out enough tears in her time at the hospital than she has in years, the puffiness around her eyes serving as proof. But try as she may, the tears don’t stop – Threatening to spill over once again as he apologizes. You’d a shitty mom. She remembers his words, clear as day – Hearing them repeat in her head over and over again, knowing the truth behind them even if he’d only let them slip out of anger, with the intent to hurt without much motivation. Chessie decided to remain silent for a moment, knowing better than to simply say it was okay, or worse – Let out the truth, and agree with him. She found herself thinking more and more about David, about what he would think if he knew the kind of person his mother was. He had no idea who she was, no idea where to look if he wanted to find her. What would he think if he saw her, knowing the terrible things she’d done to herself? She couldn’t let herself go down that rabbit hole, knowing fully well there was no coming back. “Don’t,” The word is soft, just above a whisper. “I – “ A pause, a shaky breath. “I know. I just – I don’t think I can talk about… that yet.” It’s probably the most honest thing she’s ever spoken in recent months, something she can’t even address properly, past referring to her secret son and the thought of her being a parent as ‘that’. 

Her free hand moves to her cheeks, wiping away the tears that have fallen despite her best efforts. In truth, Chessie has no idea how they’ll be able to be friends after this is said and done. He may be one of her best friends, but it didn’t change the fact that he was a drug dealer, and not a small time one, either. It’s a kind sentiment, everything he’s willing to do for her – Sobriety is a no brainer, at the very least, cocaine was no longer an option for her. “You’re not going to lose me,” she confirms to him, silently willing her voice not to waiver, or shake. Chessie gives him a small, half smile, before letting go of his hand. She moves to make room for him to sit next to her – It’s not much, but it’s enough to fit both of them. But if she rolls onto her side, letting her back lean against the side barrier of the bed, it works. It’s not a particularly energy exerting movement, but it leaves her feeling exhausted nonetheless. Chessie tries to hide it as best she can. Patting a hand on mattress, gesturing for him to take the spot next to her, she spoke up once more. “Come, sit.” 

He nodded, his mouth snapping shut as guilt tore at him. It was fair. It was more than fair- Chessie could have thrown a vase at him the minute he walked in the room and he would have understood. But anxiety ate at him, and he wondered if things would never go back, if Chessie would hear that every time she looked at him now. Closing his eyes, he nodded, his heart clenching as he furiously thought of any number of other things he could have said, different paths he could have taken. As always there seemed to be several very important things he needed to convey to her, and per usual he couldn’t think of a way to put any of them into words. So he kept quiet instead, figuring he’d already said more than enough.

It took him a moment to figure out what she was doing, but when he did, Rowan shed off his jacket for fear of one of the buckles or zippers catching on something important and carefully sat where she directed, minding the machinery as he put a hand on Chessie’s back in a sort of sideways half hug, for once refusing to be uncomfortable with the contact. “Good.” His voice came out a little rough when he finally spoke, and he wasn’t referring to what he’d said, but the heart wrenching feeling of watching Chessie being taken out on a stretcher. “And you’re not going to lose me either, though up to you to decide whether that’s a good thing or not.”

#Chessie

[rowan-tandel]

no mom i already have a job its called being hardcore

#inspo #this is rowan

[rowan-tandel]

arlovasquez‌:

The days crawled by with little to no brightness to them; not in a physical sense but within his mind. Everything to Arlo was bleak and dark. He hadn’t smoked, painted, or done anything productive in days. This was the first day he’d actually gotten the motivation to put on regular clothes and head out for a walk.

And he walked for hours because he knew if he stopped, he wouldn’t want to keep going. But he needed to get something to drink, so he stepped inside a small coffee shop of 34th and ordered a black coffee, setting his stuff on a table near the window and gazing out.

“Fuck.”

“Well don’t you look about how I feel.” Rowan muttered, dropping into the seat across from Arlo with a glance, taking a sip of his own lightly sweetened coffee, eyes scanning the shop. He hadn’t intended to run into his frequent customer, but he’d been standing in line and recognized a familiar face. It was against his normal code of behavior to acknowledge a customer in public, but Arlo truly did look awful, and Rowan had ulterior motives. “But then again, you have a pretty damn good reason to look awful.”

#Arlo

[rowan-tandel]

MANHATTAN’S LOCAL TRASHY BOY BAND — rowan, monty, sebastian & bishop.

#trashy rich boy band #inspo; squad #I LOVE IT

[rowan-tandel]

chessieabernathy‌:

I got arrested. Of course he’d mention it in a casual tone, one worth scolding – Chessie knows better than to, deciding to remain quiet as he speaks. Had it been another scenario, she would have been laughing at him, mentioning being arrested as if it’s part of his grocery list. I got eggs, milk, and by the way – I was arrested on the way home. But it’s not as simple as she aches for it to be, Chessie no longer has the luxury of teetering on the fine line between party drug and self destruction. This isn’t them laying on his floor tripping acid, or standing in a back alley connected to Blur, drunk and chain smoking. She’s sitting in a hospital bed, hooked up to an IV, unable to shake the sweats and nausea that come from detox. There’s nothing casual about this conversation, no way for them to go back to the people there were only a couple days before. 

Chessie nods as he confirms they ‘didn’t find anything’, knowing it’s probably a lie. He’s giving her the watered down, harsh-truth-omitted version of what happened. Part of her appreciates it, unsure she’d be able to handle anymore bad news. She’s still processing what she’s feeling, trying to understand where the fast friendship with the estranged friend of her ex-boyfriend goes from here – He had a hand in her downfall, being that he provided her with everything aside from the last push over the edge. But he’s not some dealer she sends cryptic texts to, and could disconnect from by deleting his number. In the months she’d known him, Rowan had become one of her best friends, leaving them with a bit more complication. 

She looks away as he brings up ‘exhaustion’, lips pursing into a thin line. Saying the word ‘overdose’ isn’t something she’s sure she can do – It’ll make this too real, ground her in the reality of her choices. Instead, she takes a deep breath, swallowing the lump in her throat. It’s unclear to her how much information is known to anyone who isn’t her doctor, her family, or O. FREYA had been quick to put the ‘exhaustion’ story out, getting ahead of the ‘issue’ before someone could get there before them and let the truth out. “You don’t really think I’m here for exhaustion, do you?” Her question comes out quietly, unable to hide the sound of the actual exhaustion in her voice, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

“No.” Rowan said quietly, fingers curling around hers tighter, as if the touch of a hand might relieve something of what she must be feeling, like he could help this late in the game after doing nothing but helping her hustle down the road that lead her where she was now. “No, I knew that.”

Suddenly, it was just too much for him to keep in anymore, and his shoulders seemed to bow under the pressure of the words that seemed to choke him now, clawing their way out his throat, because surely the release of pressure after he said it would be better than carrying them around like a weight around his neck. “I- Fuck, I’m sorry Chessie. I shouldn’t have ever said that, I wanted to hurt you so I said some shit that would. And I know that I can’t ever take it back, but I wish I could, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

“And if I have to get rid of all my shit every time you come over, and never mention anything about drugs to you ever again- fuck it. If that’s what it takes, I’ll do that. I don’t want to have fucked us up. Fuck I know how pathetic it sounds, but I can’t lose anyone else, Chess. Especially not you.” inhaling a bit unsteadily, he finally turned his eyes towards her again almost hesitantly, worried he’d find her face closed off and cold. 

#chessie

[rowan-tandel]

monty-santos‌:

Biting his lip, Monty crossed his arms in front of him, just like he always did when he was starting to get anxious.  “Because Seb and Ben were also arrested, and Chessie’s in the hospital and Bishop’s unreliable, and I wasn’t sure if you had anyone else…” Monty trailed off, once again reminding himself exactly how much he didn’t know about most people in the city anymore, “and I just didn’t want you to have to go through this all by yourself,” like I did, Monty mentally added, even though he wouldn’t dare actually say those words out loud.  Not right now.  It just wasn’t the time. “Nobody should.” 

“I- hadn’t heard about Sebastian or Ben.” He muttered lamely, after a moment. Monty’s backhanded comment wasn’t exactly subtle, but still. Rowan thought with something of a cringe, mouth thinning, nothing he didn’t entirely deserve. His thoughts on that other New Year’s Eve that seemed eons again remained fuzzy, dimmed by the substances imbibed, the craziness of the night, and the endless passing of time that seemed to wear more and more on the details until it seemed like more of something that had happened in a dream once. 

It seemed so out of character for the things he would do- Monty was his friend, of course he wouldn’t abandon him. He wouldn’t leave his friends behind to save his own skin- except he had, and done it again the other night when the police showed up and Rowan found his way to the nearest bathroom, leaving his friends to find their own way. 

Suddenly, he found that it was all a bit too much for him, at the moment, between his time at the police officer, Chessie, and now Monty on his doorstep with what Rowan was sure was genuine concern. He laughed a sound that sounded the opposite of happy or amused, letting his head roll forward into his waiting hands. “No, seriously Monty, what the fuck? Why the fuck are you here?” His tone was thin and unsteady, and he spoke between clenched teeth. “I fucked you over, get probably not half of what I have coming to me, and you show up on my door to check on me? What do you want from me?” 

His words were coming out faster and faster, and he found himself wondering at all the times over the past few months he’d slipped up and lost his cool, and how frequent those times seemed to be getting lately. “Do you want me to feel bad? Because I promise you I’ve already been there. Do you want to gloat? Go ahead, I deserve it, honestly. Are you here to fuck with my head? Because this is a pretty decent way of doing it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face that hadn’t stopped shaking since he’d heard Arlo scream for Chessie, face weary. “I just- I know I fucked you over Monty. Don’t tell me you’re here to check in on me, don’t tell me you’re just honestly that nice. I already feel guilty enough.”

#this got long for god's sake don't match lmao #monty

[rowan-tandel]

chessieabernathy‌:

There was no proper way for them to carry on, after all of this – There last conversation, if you could call it that, had been explosive, to say the least. Add in her overdose and his apparent arrest, and their lives remained as complicated as ever. I tried to at the party but they’d already put me in handcuffs. Her heart sank at the thought of him seeing her when it happened, of watching her be pulled out of Arlo’s home on a stretcher. It added insult to injury, with the gaps in her memory. There wasn’t an easy way to go about this, no simple way to say hello to one another and move on. 

Chessie remained still, hand in his as Rowan spoke to her. “Me too,” her words were truthful, voice coming out smaller than initially intended. There was a harsh reality to all of this, one she didn’t want to face. She could have died – Had the cops not busted the party, had she been left to her own devices. Her doctor didn’t go into too much detail of what could of happened to her, choosing to focus on what was next. She didn’t want to die, at least she didn’t think she did – It wasn’t a thought that actively came to mind. Her life may be a mess, sure, but that had never been active option she consider. Chessie was sure this moment would go on the list of things she never spoke about, never let herself feel. 

But for now, there was no hiding it. No stopping the truth from being a subject of conversation between them. “What happened to you?” It was an over simplified question, one that he’d answered offhandedly moments before. 

“I got arrested.” Rowan admitted easily, with a shrug, in a tone of voice meant to imply that it was no big deal, that he didn’t care. It was all he could do, given he certainly wasn’t about to tell Chessie that hearing that she was unconscious had basically been what got him caught. And what had happened after still hadn’t had time to settle in his head. “It’s fine. They didn’t catch me with anything.”

He didn’t mention being tased as he ran towards her, or how his father had told him she’d be lucky to survive the night. He didn’t mention how he’d hung his head, still handcuffed in the police station, and forced himself to take slow deep breaths as he wondered if he’d be attending another funeral in the next few days. 

Despite how badly he wanted to, he didn’t bring up the awful things he’d said, or the complacent place he had in her addiction. He didn’t mention the coke he sold to Sheridan. He didn’t tell Chessie about how he’d wanted to go to college and get an apartment with Bishop, Monty, and Sebastian, or how he’d thought about getting a minor in film, or how when he’d been kicked out of his house he’d had to find a quick way to make money and fast. He didn’t use the line- the one he told himself when he was feeling guilty: fried chicken’s bad for you too, but no one hates the people who work at KFC. He just sat with her hand still clutched in his slightly shaky one, thinking how he would have responded if it’d been some girl he didn’t know. Would he have cared?

“I heard them say something about you being treated for exhaustion?” He asked, more for something to ask than anything. They both knew why she was actually there.

#Chessie