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Halfway into his second, Wren had somehow wriggled out of his shirt and pants and was lying in the middle of the living room floor in only his boxers, watching the fan go round and round and wondering if he was going to get the spins this time. He hadn’t bothered putting his processors on, so he couldn’t hear the door when it opened, but he saw the little flash from the table lamp.
Luke was long gone.
Wren attempted to roll over, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate, so all he managed to do was get up onto his side and flop around like a beached fish. His gaze eventually found his friend, who was staring at him with a tired look on his face.
Ravi lifted a brow at him. Do-do?
Wren shrugged and flopped onto his back once more. “Drunk,” he signed with a shaky hand.
Ravi appeared in his line of sight and gave him the most sarcastic True biz that he’d ever seen.
Wren lifted his hands, then let them flop back to his sides and closed his eyes. He didn’t really know what to say. He was embarrassed that Ravi was seeing him like this, and hurt because nothing was taking the pain away, and confused because he was so damn sure he understood himself, and then Percy had to come along and fuck it all up.
When Wren blinked his eyes open, Ravi was gone. Which hurt, but it wasn’t a surprise. He was pretty sure no one wanted to deal with him when he was like this. It was why Luke fled as quickly as he could.
Caleb had done it a few times years back when they were reconnecting, and he told Wren the next time he got sloppy, he’d be taking care of himself, and Wren knew in that moment he was on the verge of a problem.
He couldn’t let himself spiral like that. Not again.
Rolling all the way over, he climbed to his hands and knees. “Waaaaait,” he said aloud, then frowned. Where was his voice?
Oh. Right.
Processors.
He laughed and wobbled to his knees, then climbed to his feet. He wasn’t as off-balance as he expected himself to be, and he made it to the kitchen to find Ravi fussing with the kettle. “Wait,” he said aloud again.
Ravi clearly heard him because he turned and rolled his eyes before pointing firmly to a chair at the kitchen table.
“Nooo,” Wren voiced. “Where’s Mouse?”
Ravi sighed and walked over, taking him by one shoulder. “You need to sit,” he signed with one hand. “You look like you’re going to fall over. Mouse is at Caleb’s.”
Wren frowned, then realized he was listing to the side and nodded. “Oh. Okay.” As he nodded his fist, his wrist felt all wobbly and strange. Fuck, he should not have gotten this drunk. He turned and shuffled back toward the couch, and Ravi followed him with a hand on his back.
When he flopped back down, Ravi hovered over him and touched his chin to get his attention. “I’m going to make you tea, and you’re going to stay right here.”
Wren nodded, and the moment Ravi turned his back, he burst into tears. Again. This was too much like when he was younger—too much like when he’d use getting wasted to cope with everything. He’d hated that version of himself, and the fact that he was being pushed closer to it again was terrifying.
He scrubbed his hands down his face, trying to clear up his tears, but it wasn’t working. They just kept coming. He sniffed and tried to hide his face when Ravi appeared again with the tea, but his friend clearly saw him because he rushed over, setting the tea down before throwing himself next to Wren.
“What’s wrong?”
Wren laughed bitterly and rubbed at his eyes again. “Nothing,” he answered when his hand was free. “Everything.”
Ravi looked at him with an expression so full of pity Wren wanted to scream…or maybe laugh. He had no idea. “Talk to me. What happened tonight?”
Wren let out a trembling breath, trying to think clearly, but it wasn’t easy. All the things he’d been bottling up for weeks were pushing at the tips of his fingers, begging to be let out. “It wasn’t tonight. Percy,” he spelled.
Ravi’s eyes narrowed. “What did he do? Did he make you feel?—"
“No,” Wren interrupted. “No. It was me. It’s always me.”
Ravi pulled back a few inches and shook his head. “Impossible.”
Wren laughed again and shrugged. “It’s always me,” he repeated. “I thought I knew, but I was wrong. It made sense, but now it doesn’t, and I’m always wrong.”
Ravi swallowed thickly, then reached out and closed his fingers around Wren’s hands, squeezing for a brief second. “I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he replied when he let go. “Talk to me. Please.”
