Work Text:
The nightmares started on a random evening in the middle of May. It was warm, the sky was bathed in stunning oranges and reds, and Caitlyn was right by her side as they sat together on the couch. Caitlyn was scanning a particularly unexciting work document and they’d just shared a nice meal together. All of these factors came together to result in Vi falling victim to an impromptu nod-off.
Piltover’s invasion had happened about a month prior, maybe a bit more. During the entire time afterwards, up until that point, Vi hadn’t had a single dream. Her mind, while usually so incredibly loud, had gone unusually quiet in the aftermath of everything. That impacted a great many parts of Vi’s life, but most peculiarly was the absence of her mind’s nonsensical nighttime ramblings.
…That was, until the aforementioned evening of which Vi’s mind happened to conveniently decide to switch the dream factory back on right as Vi had finally gotten to a place where she’d felt safe enough to let her guard down and doze. She was only out for a few minutes, cheek cushioned against Cait’s arm. Flashing visions of that day ripped gashes through that peaceful stupor and shredded it to bits. Jinx. Vander. Caitlyn, bleeding and unconscious, hardly twitching as Vi clutched at her and screamed her name.
And then she was awake, shaking and trembling and breathless, clutching at Caitlyn once more. Vi could still clearly see the terrified fear and concern in her lover’s eye even through the haze of her panic attack.
Caitlyn had been flighty and worried about her for many days following that incident. Seeing her girlfriend so scared and stressed over a silly thing like a nightmare really rubbed Vi the wrong way. It was just a stupid dream, and even though Vi had told Cait this many times she seemed rather uninclined to believe the Zaunite.
So, in order to quell her girlfriend’s worries, Vi became much more conscientious of her sleeping habits. Quickly, it became apparent that this was a rather vital task, because Vi started having nightmares every single night after that one evening.
Now, it’s the end of August, and the leaves have just begun their yearly shift into dormancy. Vi’s been having nightmares for months and months now. She hasn’t had a full eight hours of rest in… uh.
Vi can’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. She’s tired, sure, but that’s never not been the case. It’s normal to be tired. Everyone’s tired. Caitlyn’s tired, and she’s got twice the amount of shit to worry about. If Vi thinks she knows the meaning of tired, she’s certain that her definition wouldn’t even be able to hold a candle to Caitlyn’s definition of tired. They both work hard, righting the wrongs of their world and coming home every evening to fall into each other’s arms and sleep off the day’s woes.
It wouldn’t be right for Vi to gripe about her own exhaustion when she can so easily see the bruising dark marks beneath Caitlyn’s eyes. Both of them, including the empty socket. Even without the organ cradled within the space, it still bears the marks of many years of sleepless hours.
At least Caitlyn sleeps well these days. She allows herself to be enveloped into Vi’s strong arms and it’s like her brain flips a switch. She’s out, breathing softly and deeply.
Vi doesn’t know how she does it. She’s never particularly been the best sleeper, but these days it’s just so much worse.
Vi’s an expert at hiding it, because once again, Caitlyn needs as much rest as she possibly can. It’d be selfish and childish to allow the pitiful troubles of her own nightmares to impede on Cait’s health like that. Vi wants to be as good of a partner as she possibly can be, so she compartmentalizes the everloving hell out of her ever-repeating nightly flashbacks as much as she possibly can because things are finally shifting towards something close to normal and Vi is not going to fuck things up for the both of them.
She’s not, damnit.
But it’s really been getting harder lately, having to drag herself through a haze of exhaustion every single day. Every light is too bright, every noise too loud, every touch oddly painful. Vi’s good at gritting her teeth and bearing it, and she’ll do that until she dies because there are some days were Caitlyn genuinely looks happy when she wakes up in the morning, when she has a bite of a delicious meal, when she comes home from work to see Vi, strong and reassuring and reliable.
Vi knows she’s messed up a lot of stuff in their relationship, so she’s making absolutely sure that she doesn’t fuck things up again. Caitlyn deserves to be happy, and if Vi is any good whatsoever, she’ll give her girlfriend that chance.
That’s what she keeps telling herself when she wakes up with a scream locked right behind her teeth, her heart barely contained beneath slightly mishealed ribs. This happens every night. Multiple times a night. Hours at a time where she’s trembling so hard it looks like a Tonic-clonic seizure. She hides it, shoves her sobs and tears down and grips the bedsheets so hard that her fingernails still cut into her palms, even through the fabric. Even after endless hours of self-induced torment in the dark, Vi forces herself to stay on course.
Every time, she keeps going. Even when her brain begs for any kind of mercy, any kind of relief, Vi makes it work. Suppression is a very effective tool, especially if one is determined enough.
However, like all things, there are only so many things Vi can compartmentalize and ignore, and there is only so long she can ignore them for. In this particular case, there’s only so long that Vi can go on without sleep. The weeks have long since turned into months, and this pesky little issue has become an overgrown major interference. Sleep sounds so nice. Vi just wants to sleep all the damn time. Coffee helps, a bit, as does punching the everloving shit out of anything and everything that is vaguely acceptable to punch, but the exhaustion dogs at her indiscriminately no matter what.
It’s not that Vi’s trying to avoid sleeping. She’s not. She goes to bed when Cait goes to bed, tries her best to practice “good sleep hygiene” or whatever the fuck those piltover doctors were lecturing her about, and she really isn’t trying to make things difficult on purpose.
For the fourth time that night, Vi jolts awake with a barely suppressed scream. Her head feels like it’s full of rabid cockroaches all trying to find a way out. Images flash and spin in front of her vision like a coin twirling on a countertop. This just keeps happening and Vi doesn’t know how to stop it.
She needs sleep. Her eyes burn and her muscles shake. She feels cold all the time, day and night, no matter the temperature. Her skin is always weirdly pale. Her body’s clearly unhappy and her mind is really getting swept up in the torrent. She just wants it to stop.
Vi just needs this fucking spiral cycle to stop.
“Please fuck, make it stop.” Vi grits out, voice nearly squeezed to death by the tight muscles clenching in her throat. The pitiful noise she makes is far, far too quiet to reach Caitlyn’s ears on the other side of the overlarge bed. Vi genuinely feels like she’s dying, laying here on this soft mattress. She wants nothing more than to crawl out of her own skin, escape this hell and find a pitiful shred of peace somewhere that isn’t here.
On its own, her body begins to move. A shaking hand peels back the covers, revealing a sweaty, overwrought body. Two legs move, thighs and calves trembling as they take Vi’s weight. She feels the rush of blood circulating around her throbbing veins when she stands, not waiting for the onslaught of vertigo to fade before darting for the bedroom door.
A drink. That’s what she’s gonna go get. Just one. Just one. It’s been months since she’s had booze, so her tolerance has pretty much dissolved into nothing. Alcohol always makes her brain shut up, and while she’s aware it isn’t exactly the healthiest coping mechanism, Vi is sure that she’s earned this.
Just one drink. She can’t be gone too long, Caitlyn will notice and get worried. Plus, Vi wants to be around in case her lover has a nightmare. Vi moves fast, slipping out the door and down the hallway, footsteps padded under layers of thick luscious carpet. Rich people and their crazy extravagancies.
Speaking of extravagancies, the Kiramann manor is full of them, including a conveniently stocked bar. Mr. Kiramann likes the good shit, and Vi is grateful for that right now. She goes behind the bartop, swipes a gold rimmed glass with the Kiramann family crest branded on the front from the counter, and dumps a healthy pour of one of many of Tobias’s whiskeys into it. The taste is ambrosia as it blooms on her tongue. In Vi’s mind, booze is booze, but she’ll never not savor a good brew.
…Is this a good idea? Shit. Vi freezes a little bit, thinking. Drinking hasn’t ever had a good rapport for being a healthy coping mechanism. Maybe it would be better to wake Caitlyn, seek comfort in the one she loves so dearly.
Vi takes a small sip. The smokey flavor of alcohol saturates every tastebud.
Vi could stop now. She could stop right here, dump the rest of the whiskey down the drain, and walk away. Fall into her beloved’s arms and finally allow herself to truly cry. Vi knows that she needs that. So badly.
But Vi doesn’t do that. She won’t, even though she fucking knows that Caitlyn would also prefer for Vi to wake her up as opposed to being down here.
She just… isn’t ready yet. She doesn’t want to live through that terrible onslaught of tremendous grief as it rips through her raw, as it has done a million times through her life. Bearing that pain seems… impossible. She’ll have to do it, eventually.
Not tonight.
Half of the glass’s contents are drained in just a moment’s glance, and then the rest of it is gone just a few seconds after that. Vi looks down at the empty vessel and frowns. Whoops. So much for “savoring” it.
Oh well. She’ll savor the effect that it has on her instead, when that sets in. She waits with great anticipation, leg jiggling as she stands next to the counter, gripping the glass tightly. She’s so tired, but her mind is still going so fucking fast. A shaky breath enters and then leaves Vi’s lungs, leaving her feeling no more satiated for oxygen than she had been before.
Vi’s gonna be fine. She’s gonna be just fine. She’ll digest the drink, it’ll do what it needs to do and quiet her mind just enough so that she can go back to sleep, and then wake up as the sun’s rising to live another day.
Another day of exhaustion and regret and pain and self loathing and paranoia and all of the grief that manages to slip through the cracks.
Another day of wanting nothing more than to scream and to punch and to get punched just for the hell of it.
Another day without Powder and Vander and Isha and Loris and-
Fuck. …Fuck.
Vi pours another drink. Last one, she promises herself. One is probably enough to get the job done, but a little extra as a precautionary measure is never a bad thing. Besides, it’s no good sitting down here stewing in her misery when she’s already decided to go down this road. Her thoughts sound like the diary entries of an angsty teenager, and that’s a little ridiculous.
Vi really does try to force herself to savor this one a bit more. She’s only a little successful. Her hands shake hard around the crystal. The gold rim dances in the dim light.
Her glass is empty again soon enough. Vi looks at it with pale eyes and then turns her focus inward, assessing the state of her nervous system. She feels the beginnings of a buzz coming on creeping up slowly to start blurring the outermost of her tumultuous thoughts. It’s working. Slowly. So slowly. Vi’s heart is still beating so fast, but her lungs have begun to loosen up a little. She still feels so tired, yet too anxious to find any rest.
That’s all she wants, damnit.
The logical and experienced part of her brain is trying so hard to pump the brakes and slow down, knowing that drinking too fast leads nowhere good, but several months of shitty sleep have entirely caught up with Vi, and she’s at her wit’s end. She’s so tired. Tired of being scared all the time, tired of waking up feeling like she’s dying multiple times a night, tired of being able to see with perfect clarity the concerned glances that Caitlyn casts her way sometimes when she thinks Vi’s not looking.
She grabs the glass and the bottle and walks over to the bartop, spilling herself onto a stool and splaying part of her upper body onto the counter. She thinks again that she should pick better coping mechanisms, but Vi is also certain that it’ll be fine. Caitlyn will never know. She’ll never have to know. Vi’s allowed to have a night of bad decisions every once in a while, and none of it matters because it doesn’t affect Caitlyn.
She. Won’t. Know.
Vi helps herself to another drink and lets the glass fill with far more amber liquid than what’s considered a standard pour. She doesn’t bother to plop some ice in there, just drinking the whiskey as it is, room temperature. Who cares? Nobody’s around to see anyway.
It tastes good, but what’s even better than the taste is the feeling that’s now slowly spreading up and down her body. Oh, how she missed it. Alcohol forces everything to relax. Her body grows more pliant as she starts to be pulled down by gravity. Her eyes progressively go unfocused and half-lidded, her face growing flush and a little numb. Her limbs are heavy and her body is heated. Her thoughts slide around like warm honey. The tension bleeds from her shoulders and jaw. Her iron grip on the crystal tumbler finally unwinds to be something slightly less white-knuckled.
She feels… nice. So nice. Her mind is quiet, wily thoughts almost subdued and put to rest for a little bit. Vi closes her eyes and lets the feeling fully saturate her, liquor dulling every one of her senses, lowering her inhibitions and stripping away the many layers of anxiety that constantly cloud brain. Now, it’s been clouded in a different way.
No more sadness. No more bad thoughts. It’s genuinely divine. Vi opens her eyes again to find herself slumped over the bartop, empty glass still cradled in her grip. The controls for her body are distant and just out of reach. All of a sudden, everything just starts to feel absolutely hilarious.
This whole situation is so stupid. Here she is, haunting the Kiramann bar in nothing but a ratty tanktop and an old pair of boxers, brooding about the past. Vi mulls this over, coming to the conclusion that she really needs to get over herself. Other people have way worse problems compared to the ones she’s got. At least she’s not in Stillwater anymore, which is nice. And she’s got Cait, and that’s the best.
Vi smiles at herself more as she stares at the glass wavering in her vision. It’s empty. She should fill it again.
She does. “Last one,” She slurs aloud, and though it sounds garbled, Vi’s too gone to notice. The liquid sloshes around in the glass, ornate crystal picking up flashes of rainbow light in the dim parlor. It’s pretty. Vi’s still smiling, staring into the dark liquid, eyes burning with a deep exhaustion. She’s almost drunk enough, she just needs a little more.
With an uncoordinated arm, Vi hoists the cup skyward in a toast. Expensive whiskey spills over the top because the glass is full to the brim. She doesn’t notice it dripping onto her fingers. Talking is slightly difficult because her tongue has turned into a fish on land and her thoughts are very hazy, but Vi has things she wants to say.
“Miss you,” She forces out, images of Powder and Vander flashing behind her eyelids when she blinks slowly. “Miss you so m-much.” Her tongue is pretty much useless, which is good because she won’t scream after another nightmare if she can’t remember how to use it. A sigh trickles out from deep within her lungs. “I dunno howta keep… keep going.”
Vi is so tired of the night terrors. They twist and squeeze her in the same way a person wrings out a cloth until it is dry. She’s got nothing more to give, but whoever’s doing the wringing just won’t quit.
It hurts.
Everything hurts.
Vi shoves the lip of the glass to her mouth, just barely managing not to spill again, not that it matters. The whiskey is tasteless and goes down incredibly easily. Vi takes the entire tumbler in a single go. Then, she slams the container down, releasing it from her grasp. All that practice during her time in the pits is really paying off. Vi can put away a lot of booze.
Finally. She’s built a good buzz and that’ll be enough to keep it going for a little while. The bottle is significantly emptier than it was an hour earlier, but Vi again takes no notice. Her upper body re-slumps over the countertop and she blinks dazedly. One of her arms is dangling loosely below the counter while the other is propped, bent over it. Two dumb pale blue eyes refuse to focus on anything and her brain feels really disconnected from her body. Everything’s so far away. Vi is floating far above her body.
Each sense has been fully saturated with liquor. Vi can’t remember the last time she was so intoxicated like this. She can’t remember much at all, actually. What had she been so upset about? A few pesky dreams? That all seems so silly, now. A flat giggle leaks from her chest, like water being splashed onto the surface of a hot pan and immediately evaporating. All of her thoughts roll off the brain like that. They pass her by blurrily. Vi can’t hold onto any one particular thought at all. Like steam, they pass between her fingers and she’s just not quick enough to grab a fistful.
She lays like that for a little while, cheek pressed against the surface of the bartop, eyes wavering open and closed. Her body is completely slack and relaxed, fully forced into submission. Vi sinks evermore into the stool beneath her, breathing very slow and eyes unfocused.
Caitlyn frequently crosses her mind. She’s perfect and beautiful. Vi’s amazed that Caitlyn still chooses to be with her every day. Vi is trencher trash, through and through. She’s got no money to her name, no life of extravagance to offer Caitlyn, and she’s far too brutish to fit into any of the molds the people of Piltover try to force her into. Caitlyn knows this, yet she lets Vi stay. Allows Vi to live in her house, to eat Kiramann food and drink Kiramann water and breathe Kiramann air.
Vi understands the privileges that Caitlyn is granting her. She also understands that by being down here, stealing Kiramann booze from the back of the top shelf, she’s fucking up all of that trust. All of it. What would Cait say now if she saw Vi in her current state? She would definitely be upset. Vi hates when Caitlyn gets upset. Caitlyn is so perfect and beautiful and lovely, and to see her face crumple in misery is like a cat losing one of its nine lives.
Caitlyn should be happy. Vi should be doing things that make Cait happy. Seeing Vi in her current state would not make her happy. She needs to get up, go the fuck to sleep.
Moving is an impossible chore, requiring each and every ounce of Vi’s focus. She slowly pushes herself up so that she’s actually sitting, then proceeds to sway and overbalance when she accidentally pushes back too far. It is sheer luck alone that keeps her from toppling backwards onto her ass. Vi shakes her head, physically trying to jostle her brain into clearing up a little, but it doesn’t work at all. In fact, all it ends up doing is making the room spin a little bit. Her hand on the countertop is one of the only things keeping her steady-ish. A hiccup jolts her body.
“Shit,” Vi cusses. She is a little drunk.
That’s fine, it’s all good. She feels great. Nothing matters and Vi just can’t gather the will to care about it all so much. Her brain is so quiet now. She can’t hear the noise anymore, the screaming and begging and sobbing of her now dead loved ones. It’s really hard to think about any of the messed up stuff from her past when she can’t think at all. This is what she wanted. What she needed, so desperately. And with all of Vi’s drinking experience she knows how to handle herself and keep everything under wraps. She’ll enjoy her buzz and Caitlyn’ll never find out. All she’s gotta do now is put the stuff away, go upstairs, and go the hell to bed.
Easy peasy. She can do that. Vi’s had a bit to drink but she’s definitely not fucked up. Now that she’s sitting up again though, the liquor does seem to be hitting ten times harder. Everything is blurring and swaying and Vi can hardly feel the stool beneath her. It’s hard to keep her head lifted and her eyes can’t see well. Her arms don’t want to work at all, and her legs are also every bit as stubborn. Vi furrows her brow, summoning up the last remaining bit of brainpower to get things going in the direction she needs.
“Okay, Jus’ gotta… Grab. That thing.”
One sloppy hand reaches for the glass and paws at the air momentarily as it tries to grab at each of the many blurry versions Vi can see. Focus. Just gotta focus. The numerous images floating around in her sight begin to align, and Vi precariously swipes the glass up. Success.
Fuck, that was hard. She swallows dryly, breath shallow in her heavy chest. She’s fine though. Really.
Glass in one hand, the other hand pushes against the edge of the countertop in an attempt to force herself to stand. It takes a certain amount of struggling, but eventually Vi finds her footing. The ground seems like it’s ten feet away, her bare feet floating far above it. A moan quietly slips out of her throat and Vi squeezes her eyes shut. Her face is so numb and standing sucks.
Put the stuff away, go to bed. That’s all she has to do. Vi shifts, stepping away from the bar with both items in her hands, intent on finding solace under the warm covers with Caitlyn. It’s going to feel so good.
Her legs move without grace, footfalls landing blindly as she stumbles back around to the shelves of alcohol. It is impossible to get her eyes to focus and the whole world spins around her through each movement. Briefly, Vi wonders if she’s had a bit too much to drink, but immediately her own mind rejects the thought. She can hold her liquor. She knows how to handle herself. Certainly, she knows her limits and she has not surpassed them. Vi can handle herself.
A loud shattering interrupts her thoughts, sending her stumbling into the side of one of the counters. Shit. Fuck. She got distracted and dropped something. What did she drop?
Vi looks down, glass shards drifting around in her sight. Her brain is trying to work out whether the source of the glass is the bottle or the tumbler because they’re both made of glass and it’s hard to tell when she can’t think coherently at all. She sways backwards, balance completely shot, and just barely manages to catch herself. Apparently her neck has also completely turned to rubber, because it’s impossible to hold her head up. Bright pink strands of hair swing in front of her eyes and Vi is enamored by the color of it as it floats around in her vision, amazed that that is the color of her fucking hair.
Powder’s hair was electric blue.
Was.
Shoot, there’s glass on the floor. Vi blinks, staring down at it as she leans against the countertop. Her other hand is still precariously gripping the decanter. Oh. It’s the cup that broke. Trying to decide what to do about the mess is such a Sisyphean task. Vi slides down to the floor in front of a row of low drawers and cabinets, eyes glazed. Standing and trying to think at the same time is very difficult so this is much better. Now she can figure out what to do. That noise was quite a loud one. She always got yelled at for making loud noises in Stillwater.
But… Vander never got mad during any of the times that she, Powder, or any of the boys accidentally broke a glass in the bar. He’d clean the shards with practiced ease, sweeping them up and then whisking them away. It only happened a few times, because each kid only needed to break one glass before learning the same important lesson. Vander was a good parent.
Vi hiccups, the movement forcing her eyes to flicker open. Glass. Glass shards. On the floor, in front of her. She should clean them up before Caitlyn, beautiful perfect Caitlyn can catch her doing dumb shit.
Right. Clean up the glass. How the fuck is she supposed to do that. This house is ginormous and there is no way in hell that Vi would be able to find the right door to the broom closet if she were to try, so she doesn’t bother.
She can just pick up the pieces with her hands and chuck them into the trash. Shove them to the bottom so nobody sees. Most of the shards are big. They warp around in her vision as she sits there swaying to and fro. Her useless eyes just really don’t want to work. One hand plucks a piece of glass from the floor. This piece is the biggest of the bunch. It’s the entire bottom of the cup, and a little bit of the side of it. It glints in the dim light, drawing Vi’s erratic attention as it sparkles. The piece feels very warm in her hand. It’s really pretty. Vi begins to slump lower, holding the shard in one hand and the whiskey bottle in the other. She’s so tired. Sleeping here would be fine. Caitlyn wouldn’t notice if she was gone for a little longer. Vi would be really careful; close her eyes for a few minutes and doze until she’s a little more sober, and then go to sleep upstairs. There is no rush. Caitlyn sleeps soundly through the night most of the time, so everything’s fine. Vi has time.
“...Vi?”
Vi goes momentarily still. Then, her gaze lazily travels across the room until it belatedly settles on the owner of the voice
Caitlyn stares at her, eye wide and full of emotions Vi can’t identify. “Vi, are you alright?”
Caitlyn’s standing a few paces away now. Vi can’t remember her walking closer. She’s wearing pajamas. They look soft, and Vi wants to touch them. She smiles up at her lover, hoping that she looks reassuring. Everything still feels funny. Vi’s trying to push down a laugh that keeps trying to slip out.
“Cait!” She says, waving the bottle of booze at her. “What’re you doing here?” Each word is a struggle to annunciate and her whole body feels incredibly numb. It’s getting hard to keep up with everything that’s going on.
“I heard glass-” Caitlyn starts saying. Vi stares at those lips moving and a wash of gentle ringing takes over her hearing, erasing all noise like water running over marks in the sand; smoothing it all out once more. There’s glass on the floor and she’s holding some in her hand, the liquor bottle still hasn’t been put back, she’s still sitting on the floor, struggling to actually stay sitting as opposed to letting her body tip over and lean against the cabinets. That sounds nice. If she was leaning over, then Vi wouldn’t have to focus on keeping herself sitting upright and instead she can focus on what Caitlyn’s saying. It all sounds like mush.
Caitlyn’s lips are perfect. Vi’s always loved that little gap she has between her two front teeth. Caitlyn tries to hide it sometimes; caught in the occasional instance where she’s particularly self conscious about it. Vi’s always wanted to tell her that she thinks that it looks beautiful, that Caitlyn as a whole is beautiful, and that everything about her is the most beautiful thing Vi’s ever seen.
“You’re so pretty,” Vi murmurs over Caitlyn as she’s speaking, each word slurring into the next. She’s tilting back and forth, unaware of the fact that she’s doing so. Caitlyn stops saying whatever she is in the middle of saying, facial expression becoming evermore unreadable. Her eye roams up and down Vi’s form, from the items in her hands and then over to the scattered glass on the floor.
Vi’s hand is still wrapped around the decanter. There is still broken glass on the floor and in her grasp. Vi’s forgotten about both. She’s forgotten about a lot of stuff, actually, which is probably good. That’s why she came down here. To forget.
“How much have you had to drink?”
The question knocks Vi out of her molasses-slow thoughts and she blinks, pausing to hiccup. Caitlyn doesn’t like it when Vi drinks, Vi knows that. Deflect. Sit up. Be sober. Act like a good girlfriend instead of a piece of shit.
“Nothing, officer.” Vi tries to play it off with a smirk but she just ends up tipping backwards into the cabinet behind her. The back of her head hits wood hard, which is very rattling. A sour laugh streams from her lungs, and she finally drops the shard of glass from her warm hand. With her now freed appendage, she reaches and pulls the stopper out of the bottle’s entrance and uncoordinatedly thrusts it into her girlfriend’s face. Weirdly, the stopper feels wet. Vi must’ve spilled and not noticed at some point. Oh well. It would make sense for Vi to break her gaze away from the person in front of her and inspect the wetness, but Vi’s just too enamored. Why look at anything else when there’s Caitlyn Kiramann?
Speaking of which, she looks worried. Booze can fix that. It fixed Vi’s worries, and that’s good. Vi feels excellent. “Want some?”
To her delight, Caitlyn takes the bottle and the stopper out of Vi’s hands. But then immediately after she is struck with confusion when Caitlyn slides the stopper back into the bottleneck, and gently places the container back where it goes on the shelf.
Vi frowns now, lost.
“Vi, please, how much did you drink?” Caitlyn’s tone sounds off but Vi has no idea why. Is something wrong?
“What, am I not allowed… allowedda have a cheat day every once in awhile?.” She says indignantly, the back of her head resting against the cabinet still, and her gaze is so distant. The words she says are jumbled in places and weirdly drawn out in others.
Caitlyn’s stressed. With a softer tone, she presses, “What’s going on, Vi?”
Her body is slowly beginning to tilt to one side. Both of her legs are splayed in front of her, and both of her arms are laying uselessly next to her sides. She’s so damn tired. “Nothin’, Cupcake. ‘V never been better.” Vi pauses briefly, licking her lips. Talking is hard, and getting harder by the second. “Go… go to bed. I’ll be up in jus’ta bit.” Getting all of those words out and in the right order is, again, a phenomenal challenge. Reality is starting to fray away at the edges and everything is getting so much blurrier.
“Please Vi, tell me the truth. I’m not mad at you, I just want to know what’s going on in your mind right now.” Caitlyn, her partner, is using a tone that is a little desperate and definitely worried.
The thing that Cait’s just said is funny, for some reason. The laugh that escapes Vi’s chest is light and stuttering. There’s nothing going on in her mind. Everyone has a hard time getting sleep sometimes, and Vi is definitely not the first person to have a quick nightcap to stay down for longer.
Caitlyn has a sort of fear on her face that Vi doesn’t like one bit. She’s obviously not doing so good to dispel this situation thus far. Not to worry however, she can still pull it back.
“Everything’s all good, Cait.” Vi flashes her best smile and a thumbs up. Her closed fist wavers and swings in her vision and that definitely doesn’t look like the spitting picture of sobriety, so Vi lets her arm flop down quickly. Holding it up takes a lot of effort and Vi’s tired. “I dropped a glass, that’s all. Are the noises coming out of Vi’s mouth even similar to what words should sound like? Vi can’t tell, but she’s gotta keep moving forward regardless. “It was just one drink.”
She did have kind of a lot to drink, she’s willing to admit that to herself. But it’s still fine. Cait doesn’t know that. Vi’s not a lightweight, and she’s not gonna fold over a glass or two of Tobias’s finest. That final drink might’ve been a bit overkill, and it’s all dandy because Vi can handle herself.
Caitlyn is right the hell in front of her now, just an inch away. When did she move again? Usually Vi would have flinched, but the part of her brain responsible for spatial awareness is thoroughly drowned out. She’s talking again but Vi can’t comprehend most of the words. She does hear some of them and she doesn’t like what she hears. Words like worry, and scared and also the word bleeding for some reason. Caitlyn’s blowing this whole thing out of proportion.
“‘M fine…” Consciousness is starting to cut in and out. Vi really wants to lay down. She’s almost there. Sleep keeps calling her name and the alcohol is dragging her under. Caitlyn really should just leave her there for the night. Soft, calloused hands take her forearm and begin to tug her up. Vi hiccups and mutters a string for unintelligible words, half of them swears.
“Lift, you’re too heavy for me to carry you on my own,” Caitlyn grunts, using all of her strength to leverage Vi up. Vi’s confident that Caitlyn’s more than strong enough to carry her, but she manages to get her feet partway beneath her, and begins to push up. Caitlyn does most of the work. It really dawns on both of them just how shitfaced Vi is. She stands, just barely, and immediately flops to one side. Caitlyn wraps an arm around her and successfully manages to steady her. With some impressive coordination she gets Vi’s arm hooked around her neck, and Caitlyn’s arm wrapped across Vi’s back, supporting her under the armpit.
Why is she standing? Standing feels awful. “Cait,” Vi attempts. “Jus’ lemme sleep… floor’s fine.” and it is, because she used to sleep on the floor all the time when she did pitfighting. She’s used to this. Her knees are weak jelly and the floor is sucking her in like the world’s most enticing black hole. Her feet keep tripping over one another. Caitlyn’s arms are strong, keeping her aloft.
An inconsistent stream of breathless mumbling starts spilling from her mouth, half of it unintelligible. Vi isn’t even aware that she’s talking at all, eyes just barely open and getting closer to shutting with every second. Vi doesn’t want to walk. She shouldn’t come to bed like this; defile Cait’s silky sheets with her… filth. She hardly knows where she is or what’s going on. Caitlyn’s holding her up and it’s uncomfortable.
“I can… walk by m’self.” She just needs a moment to gather her bearings, that’s all. Maybe lay down for a second.
Caitlyn’s saying something in reply and even though Vi can’t really understand what the words mean, the tone sounds like it’s trying to be encouraging. Key word: trying. Cait ends up sounding worried. That’s not good. Caitlyn doesn’t need to be worrying about Vi. Nobody needs to be worried about Vi. Not now, not ever. She’s perfectly fine.
Vi stumbles roughly over a stairstep, moaning when she lands hard on the steps. When did they start going up the stairs? Caitlyn catches herself on the stair railing, narrowly missing a faceplant. Her partner isn’t so lucky. Vi’s world narrows down until she’s lost in sensations, a sea of them, both pleasurable and sickening.
Her head hurts. The ground is nice. It’s soft against her flushed skin and it stays exactly where it’s supposed to. The perfect anchor to latch onto as her brain sends signals of tumultuous spinning. She was totally right about laying down. This is better.
“‘S okay,” Vi says, unsure of who she’s comforting. Her body doesn’t want to move anymore. Her neurons are completely fried and Vi feels entirely disconnected from her body. She hiccups weakly from where she’s splayed across the stairs. Caitlyn groans in frustration but the sound doesn’t reach Vi’s dampened ears. She’s so tired. Nothing makes any sense and her memories aren’t connecting. They can’t form right. Vi is so dazed and lost, her heart is beating loud in her throat. She knows she should probably get up. Somewhere in her brain, though distantly, an alarm is going off that is telling her that this isn’t a safe place to pass out.
This whole situation still feels a little hilarious. She wants to laugh but it just comes out as a weak huff. Look at her. Look at just how far she’s fallen once again. No matter how hard she tries to be good, to get better, to make changes, she always just winds up making the same mistakes. Again and again and again and around and around and around.
Everything is twirling so fast. Vi wonders if this is how records feel when they’re spun on record players. A forlorn noise drains from Vi’s chest, and Caitlyn knows to take that sound as a warning for what is soon to come. They need to start moving again.
The stair-board shifts slightly as the weight of another person briefly compresses it, passing by as they go up the stairs.
Caitlyn. Where’s she going? Vi wants to come with. Caitlyn’s so pretty, and Vi loves her so incredibly much, She doesn’t say that enough. Really, she doesn’t. Vi decides that if Caitlyn comes back around later she’ll say that. Hopefully she’ll remember how to work her tongue, but the odds of that are slim to none right now. The feeling of intoxicated hilarity is shifting into something new and strange. Vi isn’t sure that she likes it very much. It’s really starting to feel like she overdid it by a long shot. Vi’s mouth waters and another hiccup makes her stomach spasm. The floor is starting to feel like it’s closing in on her a little bit. A wave of heat runs through her body.
She just needs everything to stop fucking moving so she can catch her breath. Is that so much to ask? Every inch of skin feels flushed and overwarm. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least. Shit. She really screwed this one up, didn’t she?
The presence of another person enters Vi’s field of perception. It’s Caitlyn again. She’s back, and if Vi could open her eyes or move her body she would have greeted her lover with enthusiasm. Instead, she only manages to let out a strangled, pitiful hum. A hand rests on Vi’s shoulder, and her brain interprets the contact as a distant echo. Caitlyn’s voice reaches Vi’s eardrums. Vi may not know what Cait’s saying, but the murmur of her sweet words soothes the uncomfortableness a little. A hand gently combs hair away from Vi’s face.
Then, a peculiar sounding pop noise reached Vi’s drowned brain, and that’s the last thing she processes before her whole entire being is obliterated in a wave of agony. Caitlyn’s waving smelling salts in front of Vi’s nose. On reflex alone, Vi flinches like she’s been possessed by the devil, pushing away from the affronting sensation with jello-like limbs. Coughs began to wrack her body as her eyes peel back open. Vi’s not sure when the last time she’s felt this awful was. Everything is swimming and blurring and moving in her sight still, and Vi’s heart is hammering so hard in her chest it sort of feels like she’s dying.
“Stop stop stop stop-” Vi begs and pleads despite the fact that Caitlyn pulled the smelling salt packet away from her face almost immediately.
Vi can feel the blood running beneath her skin, flowing fast.. “Fuck…” She grits out, adrenaline briefly enabling her to move once more. Caitlyn’s got a limited window on Vi’s consciousness, and if she wants to get Vi safely into bed, it’s now or never.
“We’ve got to get you up these stairs,” Caitlyn says into Vi’s ear as she grabs the fabric of Vi’s tank top to haul her up. Vi squirms, partially trying to help and partially writhing in discomfort.
That decanter had been full when Vi had plucked it from the shelf. She’s pretty sure she drained half of it all by herself. She’s so fucking stupid. Why can’t she do anything right? Is there anything she can successfully do that doesn’t fucking hurt other people?
Vi is just so tired. She just wants to sleep for a long time and not wake up. Everything just needs to stop for one damn minute. Caitlyn’s definitely mad at her, or at least she will be when Vi wakes up. She hopes that she doesn’t have to deal with any of reality’s bullshit for quite some time.
Caitlyn guides Vi’s arm so that it is hooked around her neck, uncomfortably pulling at a few blue strands of hair. Caitlyn ignores the discomfort and pulls them both standing again with the help of the railing.
Vi lets out a few swear words, unfocused eyes blinking rapidly. Caitlyn takes nearly all of Vi’s weight. It’s so hard to tell which direction is up and which one is down. They keep switching, which is making it tricky to stand and walk.
This whole process is awfully arduous. Caitlyn’s taking all of Vi’s weight because Vi can’t remember how to walk. It’s got something to do with moving one’s legs back and forth, but Vi’s feet just drag on the ground, pushing feebly at nothing.
Caitlyn finds herself quietly saying a string of praises to Vi as they slowly make their way up the stairs. They’re almost at the top when Vi freezes a little, stiffening. She hiccups again which makes her dizzier than ever. An uncomfortable moan trickles from her throat. Her mouth is watering.
“Cait,” Vi barely gasps. Caitlyn knows. They start moving much faster. Vi can barely keep track of what’s what. Caitlyn is dragging her down the hall to their bedroom. Vi manages to catch a quick glimpse of Caitlyn’s face when she’s shifted at the right angle, and she finds herself upset with what she sees written on her lover’s face.
Caitlyn’s so worried. She’s scared, too.
Vi fucked up. She fucked up so bad and now Caitlyn has to deal with her. Fuck, this is humiliating.
“‘M really s-sorry, Cait.” Vi apologizes, and then apologizes again, and again as the feeling of nausea continues to envelop her. But she’s not gonna throw up. She’s not. It feels like it’ll happen but it won’t because Vi knows her limits. Everything’s fine. It’s quite difficult to remember what was making her so upset earlier and that was basically her entire goal, so once again. Everything is great. No throw up happening in this mega-mansion tonight.
They get to the bathroom and Vi feels herself being set in front of the toilet. She leans into the porcelain immediately, face pressing into the cool surface. It feels nice, and the distraction blurs a line through her drunken sickness. Vi could fall asleep here. That works really well. Sobering up in the bathroom sounds good. Familiar.
Caitlyn can leave her here and go back to bed. Dealing with the nasty bullshit that comes with drinking too much is something Vi prefers to deal with solo.
The adrenaline is fading away and the watering in Vi’s mouth is getting worse. She wrinkles her nose and grits her teeth, skin covered in a sheen of sweat. She’s not going to throw up. An extra shot or two never killed anybody, probably, and it certainly isn’t going to make Vi throw up either.
A gag rockets up her throat and sends shivers all down her back. “‘M sorry,” Vi chokes out. This isn’t going to happen. She isn’t going to throw up. It’s a crime to waste Tobias’s good stuff. “Please. I’m sorry.” Caitlyn says something as a reply to Vi’s slurred apology that goes unprocessed, but the tone of it sounds comforting.
Vi’s stomach heaves again and tears prick at her eyes. She drools saliva into the bowl. Waves of chills accompany the rolling heat that races over her skin over and over. Caitlyn’s turned the bathroom light on and that’s just added an extra layer of misery. The floor feels like it’s rotating around in shaky circles. She would really like all of these awful sensations to stop, please.
The nausea doubles in intensity. She’s not gonna throw up. She won’t let herself. Caitlyn shouldn’t have to see that. Caitlyn shouldn’t have to be watching this, watching her beloved partner drink herself into incoherency, but it’s too late to take it back now. This is so typical of Vi. She knows herself, knows how she always ruins every fucking thing she touches. Her relationship has been doomed from the start. Of course she can’t just fuck shit up in her own life. She’s always gotta be a bomb, blowing up and throwing shrapnel everywhere.
Always the same.
“‘M so s-sorry.”
There are tears streaming down her face and she doesn’t feel their warmth at all. She hiccups again and that’s the final straw. It didn’t burn terribly going down, but it’s burning like all hell now. Vi’s body forces it all back out, heave after heave, and holy fuck, when she drink all of that?
All of the gagging isn’t letting any air into Vi’s lungs and the lack of oxygen leaves her completely boneless. She gags and gags and that goes until there’s absolutely nothing left inside of her stomach. The fit leaves her immobile for a minute or two. While she’s not yet passed out, Vi is briefly forced out of her own body again because the strain it’s just endured is too much to bear.
When she comes back to herself, as much as she can with her whole being saturated in booze, Caitlyn is behind her, keeping her sitting. Vi’s leaning heavily against her, and they’re both sitting on the ground. Thick strands of pink hair have been carefully tied back and tucked behind her ears.
“‘S okay,” Vi gurgles out. She’ll take things from here. A quick nap on the bathroom floor and she’ll be right as rain. “You gotta… bed.” she orders Caitlyn, not even attempting to peel her weight off of Caitlyn’s body, actively pinning her.
Caitlyn lets out a breath. “No, Vi. I’m not leaving you in here and going to bed. You’ll drown in your own vomit.” There’s no warmth to her tone. She sounds so sad.
Vi knows that she’s fucked up so bad. So bad. “Sorry for… me.” She just wants to sleep. It’s so hard to stay awake. She doesn't want to be awake anymore. It’s too hard. Everything is too heavy, too painful. Her eyes blink rapidly and Caitlyn’s words make no sense. Vi wants to cry.
Everything gets blurry and numb for an undetermined amount of time. Vi feels her body being shifted and dragged via the occasional little blip that manages to reach her consciousness.
“Stop,” Vi slurs out, but whatever’s moving her doesn’t quit. The bathroom was fine. She’s unfit for the bed. Unfit to be around Caitlyn. Caitlyn is everything perfect and pure and good, and Vi’s wrecking her, ruining her inside and out. She mumbles another apology or three. A weak hand pushes mindlessly at Caitlyn’s pajama shirt, the smooth fabric texture going unnoticed in the confusing slew of sensation.
Something squishy makes contact with Vi’s knee and she drops onto it like a stone sinking into dark waters. Somebody’s situating her, maybe trying to get her to sit up. They’re just gonna have to wait, because whatever the hell she’s laying on is absolutely divine. She’ll sit up later. In fact, everything can be done later. Vi lets out a long, drawn out hum. All of the air drains from her lungs. Caitlyn rolls her onto her side and the whole entire world sloshes and slides with the motion. The sensation is so weird and everything is spinning and hot and sickening and Vi is so tired.
…
She doesn’t come back to herself for a long, long while. The atrocious amount of alcohol in her blood keeps her down and out for a multitude of hours. When that finally metabolizes, the exhaustion takes over and keeps her under for several hours longer and the rest finally becomes productive. Dreams come and go, passing her by like fish darting through water. None of them are memorable.
Caitlyn is sidled up next to her the entire time, an arm draped over Vi’s midsection and a hand buried in a shock of pink hair. She only gets up to get water or use the bathroom, refusing to leave Vi’s side. Food is brought in by a servant and Cait picks at it if only a little.
Vi wakes up for the first time after about 16 hours of lying stiller than a dead person. There’s no light or recognition in her eyes as she peels herself off the bed and stumbles to the bathroom at a frankly impressive speed. After a few minutes, She emerges once more only to collapse face first into the mattress as soon as she’s barely close enough to reach it. Half her body misses and Caitlyn ends up dragging her back onto the bed and re-tucking the covers around her slightly shivering body. She whispers sweet nothings into Vi’s ear until the last of the tension in her muscles bleeds away.
Sleep takes her for another four or so hours of which Vi is dead to the world for.
Waking up for real is its own whole ordeal. Her eyes are dry when she tries to peel them up and they won’t focus on anything. Her head pounds and she feels clammy and sweaty. With blurry sight, Vi finds a full glass of water just a few inches away. She sits up, swipes it off of the nightstand, and downs the entire thing with impressive speed.
When she’s finished, she brings the glass away from her face and relaxes a little, spine bowing as her eyes shut. She sits, breathing deep and letting the water settle.
Caitlyn is lounging tensely on her side of the bed, a mound of pillows stuffed between her and the bed’s headboard. A book is held in both hands, but Cait’s not paying attention to it at all. Gingerly, she shifts in the bed until she’s sitting up and facing Vi, sitting with her legs folded to one side atop the sheets. Vi cracks an eye open to look warily at her lover from where she’s stooped over.
Their eyes meet momentarily before Vi breaks the connection to stare a hole into one of the bedroom’s corners. She worries at her bottom lip with her teeth, shrinking into the bed.
Eventually, the silence becomes too much for Vi. “...Hey,” is all she can get out at first. She swallows, her heartrate beginning to pick up. “I’m-”
Caitlyn leans over and places a hand on Vi’s shoulder.” Before you get too worked up, eat a little, please.” She gestures, and Vi looks over to find a tray of toast, butter, and orange juice sitting innocently next to where the water glass was on the nightstand. Simple stuff. Vi goes to pick up the tray with both hands and stops to frown when she sees that one of them has been bandaged. How had she not noticed that already?
Vi stares at the offending limb for the briefest of moments, and Caitlyn catches on immediately. “You broke a glass and cut yourself trying to clean it up.” She explains. Vi wilts further. Carefully, she lifts the tray and plops it into her lap. The toast is good, and it’s warm too. Vi manages to get the whole meal down in a pretty short amount of time. When she’s done eating and the tray has been returned to the nightstand to be retrieved later. Vi turns herself so that she’s facing Caitlyn. Powder blue eyes still won’t meet a single cerulean one, and Vi’s brain reminds her of just how much of a coward she is.
“I’m really sorry, Cait. I didn’t mean to wake you up last night and I promise that I’ll pay you back for the cup I broke.”
Caitlyn gently slides her fingers in between Vi’s, interlacing their hands, staying quiet.
Vi swears under her breath. “That’s… not what you’re mad about, is it?” She says flatly.
“I’m not mad at you, my fighter. I’m worried for you.” Caitlyn is sickly sweet sugar topped with whipped cream and Vi is nothing if not weak for her.
An itch is spreading beneath Vi’s skin as the conversation makes her more uncomfortable. She’s not good with words. “And that’s really sweet of you, cupcake, but I promise that I’m fine. I’m all good. Last night was just a little fluke, and it won’t happen again.”
“Vi, I found you on the floor, incoherent and unable to stand by yourself, clutching a piece of glass and mumbling about your family. Please,” and the way Caitlyn looks at Vi, misery and fear written clear as day on her face makes Vi’s entire heart shatter, “please don’t lie to me. You’re my partner and my best friend, Vi. I want to help you. I know you’re in pain.”
Tears blur Vi’s vision. She refuses to let them fall. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Cait.” Shame crushes her in dark, heavy waves. ‘I keep trying to hold it together so that you don’t have to worry about me, and I completely fucked it up.” Her jaw muscles pop out beneath the skin as Vi grinds her teeth.
Caitlyn cups Vi’s cheek and gently guides her view up, so that their eyes can meet and they can truly see one another. The tears in Vi’s shining eyes still have yet to fall. Caitlyn watches as Vi’s flimsy composure crumbles and she dissolves into quiet sobs.
“I-I hadn’t slept in so fuckin’ long, Cait. I just needed everything to shut up for a little bit a-and I,” Vi’s chest heaves, stuttering, and then the words keep falling out, “I woke up and I was having a panic attack and I can’t s-stop having nightmares all night every damn night and I didn’t know what to do so I just-” Her chest heaves again and she coughs. Caitlyn pulls her close so that Vi is splayed over her legs. Vi recesses into herself, curling up in an effort to fulfill a subconscious need to protect herself while being vulnerable.
Caitlyn envelops Vi, wrapping two strong arms around her back and hugging Vi against her chest. Without thinking, Cait begins to rock back and forth. The motion is minute and subtle. Vi shakes hard, unbandaged hand clawing at Caitlyn’s shirt.
“Every day without them is hell Cait and I dunno what to do, I just c-can’t-” Whatever Vi tries to say after that just gets buried as another tidal wave of grief crashes through her. Caitlyn stays quiet with the understanding that there are no correct words to say in this situation. Vi doesn’t need someone to lie to her and say that it’s okay, or that she’ll feel better soon.
What Vi needs is a warm body to hold her, and for Caitlyn to be a warm body for Vi to cling to. After two and a half decades of clinging to her loved ones as tightly as possible, Vi’s never changed. And she never will, at least not in that way. She’ll always love so deeply, feel so intensely, and fear so utterly keenly. It’s in Vi’s nature, woven into the fabric of her very soul. Vi is a protector, and Caitlyn knows that what will best soothe Vi is to allow her to physically feel that Caitlyn is safe.
Slowly, after many minutes, Vi comes back to herself and the tension in her frame trickles away.
Caitlyn curls tightly around her. “I’ll always be here for you, Vi. I’m not going anywhere ever again. You have my word. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Vi whispers in reply. Her grief remains, ever toxic and looming, but she finds solace in the fact that even after everything, Vi and Caitlyn still have each other.