Battling one's demons

[rockandrollvampire]

Time apart from his soulmate had been difficult for Toby. There had been no relief from the heartache, no easing of the pain. Days became routine with few exceptions; Wake up. Figure out where to drink. Feed to stave off the hangover. Drink. Sleep. Begin again.

If he managed to do anything but struggle his way to the most convenient bar, he could do so much with his days. He could play music. He could answer questions on the Nexus Plaza. He could drink with Aziraphale and talk about literature for hours. He could get himself into terrible trouble and then, somehow, find his way back to his flat so he could rest up and go again. But those days were few in the time he spent away from the man who completed him, and he much preferred to hide from everything around him by simply counting away the hours with bottles of liquor.

Running into Dorian had been a transcendent moment. In an instant, his life turned on its head and he stopped actively thinking about where his next bottle would come from. He struggled to come to terms with the man being back for several days, but as their lives settled into routine, he felt a weight lift from him... only to be replaced by another.

After months upon months of relying on the alcohol to dull his thoughts and the pain in his chest, habits had formed. His fingers itched to wrap around a bottle the second anything frustrated, pushed on, or otherwise caused him to struggle. Without thinking, he reached for the crutch of alcohol to erase the complexities and problems that arose from reuniting with his soulmate. His body craved the level of intoxication he’d grown accustomed to over months of abuse and addiction. He had a problem, and a very loud part of him wanted to ignore it.

The first few days were some of the hardest. He barely managed to tell Dorian of the addiction and the physical discomfort it caused him and knew he could only get so much help in dealing with this sort of thing from the man. Alcohol had always been a part of their lives and routine; Asking for abstinence for his sake was not a thing Toby could (or would) do. All he could do was ask for patience and support in his choices to avoid it, then find a way to make things work.

He slipped up so much at first. Thirst was quenched directly from bottles before the vampire realized they were in his hands. Suggestions for how to fix up a meal or treat were voiced only to be walked back when he realized what he’d said. He couldn’t offer to get a drink for Dorian without also getting something for himself. For weeks he struggled to get control of the need, to resist the unconscious urge for the feeling of everything becoming hazy as the alcohol hit him. And considering his circumstances, he probably did better than might have been expected. He never finished an entire bottle on his own or broke down in a way that had him slamming more than a little before he caught himself. But progress isn’t linear and he still tripped hard at times.

Halloween was the first moment of failure. Between the magic turning everyone into their costumes and him wanting to forget how grumpy Dorian was as a faerie, he drank more in a single night than he had the entire week prior. He awoke the next morning completely disoriented, sick, and angry. One drink had been what he’d promised himself, and he’d broken that rule while human. It pissed him off to no end that he could so easily forget in the wake of becoming Madonna for a night and trying to ease her own worries about her boyfriend doing something stupid while he wasn’t fully himself.

The Ziggy Stardust album concert and launch party was far worse. With excitement firing through his veins and both drink and drugs flowing freely, he had no chance of resisting to the extent he needed to. He drank his fill several times over, enjoying the heavy proof of the alcohol on hand that mixed so well with the sweetness of the cocktails and the heady scents of lust, liveliness, and frenetic movement in the air. When he woke the next morning, sick to the point of not being able to hold anything down, his heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He was emotionally drained and remorseful, and he spent the day shoving away offers of help to languish on the bathroom floor. It took several days to recover enough to return to normal activities, and even then his zest for them was less than it had been prior to the party.

It hurt him to know this was something that was truly his alone to deal with. It was his fault for choosing to drink like this until he and Dorian found one another again. His soulmate was at his side, offering what support he could, but the man still wanted his drinks and Toby wasn’t about to tell him not to enjoy them. To ask that would be unfair and he only wished he could join his lover in something they’d done together thousands of times before. But with little control over how much he had at any time, he simply couldn’t allow himself the opportunity. His frame of mind needed to change, and that would take time. Time he desperately wished wasn’t necessary.

There was still progress, little as it might have felt to the vampire. Booze wasn’t kept in the bedroom and he slowly lost the desire to take a shot before falling asleep. Feeding from Dorian, while still a point of tension, was a little easier each time, though he continued to avoid biting anything other than the man’s wrist. He could look at the bar carts around the townhouse and not immediately rush over to them, but he always noted their presence and exactly what was on each one. The gnawing in his mind slowly lessened, even as it remained and called more loudly to him when things around him became difficult.

It wasn’t enough. He needed to be well again. He needed to work for it and make it fucking happen.

But it was still painful and he still failed, and he still hated himself for that.