The Tragedy of the Human Condition // one.
Title: The Tragedy of the Human Condition // one.
Author: minus_four
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gabe/William
POV: 3rd, present
Summary: Slinging his backpack up over his shoulder, William stands where he is for a few moments, looking up at the brightly lit words above the doorway, the light in an odd contrast to how he feels himself just now; dark, and kind of numb. The word seems to burn into his eyes almost, with the brightness of it, stark and unapologetic.
Disclaimer: To my knowledge these events depicted here are completely untrue. The title is a Midtown song.
Warnings: Mention of self harming actions and drunk!Gabe. Triggering aspects.
(prologue)
Once William goes straight from the airport to the address Alex had sent him in a text message, he’s tired as all fuck. And he’s allowed to be, he figures as he walks up to the entrance after paying the cab driver, what with the flight and the rest of the travel it’s getting on for past 9pm with every minute of that time since the supermarket spent stressed so it feels like much longer than the reality.
Slinging his backpack up over his shoulder, William stands where he is for a few moments, looking up at the brightly lit words above the doorway, the light in an odd contrast to how he feels himself just now; dark, and kind of numb. The word seems to burn into his eyes almost, with the brightness of it, stark and unapologetic.
Hospital.
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, William walks forward, pushing through the swinging double doors and heading right for the reception desk.
“I need to see Gabe Saporta - in room 206. I’m family,” William lies, and it comes so easy, and the woman behind the desk barely hesitates before she’s nodding. William guesses it’s half the raised status Gabe and the Cobras have now, and half the fact he must look like hell himself, but whatever the reason William’s simply glad for it.
“Take the elevator up to the second floor, turn right, and you’ll see it.” She smiles, but William can only bring himself to nod his thanks before he’s off walking again, heading for his next destination of the elevator.
Everything’s in steps in his head, and has been for the last few hours, now. Get to New York, get to the hospital, get up to the room… Maybe he’s just been trying not to think about why he’s here, ultimately, but William gets a reminder all too soon once the elevator doors open again and he steps out onto the second floor. The receptionist was right, and William sees the guys right away; Ryland sat on a generic waiting area chair, Alex stood leaning against the wall next to the door with Victoria leaning against him in turn. Her face is half buried in his chest and his arms are just resting loosely around her body, one hand rubbing between her shoulders in soothing motions. Glancing up and seeing William walking toward them, Ryland immediately stands up, then ready to greet William with a hug as soon as he gets close enough.
William welcomes it, lets it envelope him as he takes a deep breath in and out. Then he waits, letting Ryland take as long as he needs before he starts to pull back, and William does the same.
He keeps his hand resting on Ryland’s arm though. “You okay?” A split second later William regrets it, feeling like an idiot. “Dumb question. Sorry.”
Ryland shakes his head. “Fine, I guess,” he says, though his eyes tell a different story.
Catching movement in his peripheral vision William turns a little and just about has time to register Victoria’s tear stained face, eyes red and make up messy, before she’s hugging him too. William wraps his arms tightly around her, needing to help in any way he can, while he just thinks Why. Why does she have to be hurting like this?
Still holding Victoria, William lifts his head to exchange a look and a nod with Alex, a silent communication from both of them which says yeah, I’m “fine” too. William sighs, his chest physically hurting as he feels Victoria’s body hitch against his and he realises she’s crying again - or it’s just leftover, like aftershocks, but it’s still just so far from okay.
William tightens his hold around Victoria’s body, turning his head a little to speak softly in her ear murmuring lies (“It’s okay. Shh, it’s okay.”) and meaningless comforts (“I’m sorry.”) Half a minute later she’s calmed down again, or at least getting there, but William still doesn’t move himself until Ryland has stepped around, lifting one hand to gently push back Victoria’s hair and just let her know he’s there.
“Sorry, Bill,” Victoria tells him quietly as she steps back, wiping her thumb under each eye and shaking her head. William just echoes the movement and she gives him a shaky smile - or something that might have gotten there on any normal day. She walks over to the chairs lining the hallway and sits down, automatically leaning sideways to rest her head on Ryland’s shoulder when he joins her.
William takes the opportunity to take Alex aside. “Ry said that you found him,” he prompts, and William wishes he had the self control to not ask this, not ask Alex to relive what he’d probably already had to a few times, if the scene wasn’t constantly playing in his head. Hell, William didn’t even know and the different possibilities had been running around his mind for the last three hours along with how, how… and above all else, why.
“It was dumb luck,” Alex starts, breathing out a sickly sounding laugh. “A fucking scarf. That’s what saved Gabe’s life. I wanted to take it on tour with me - with me and Ry, and I’d left it at Gabe’s place. And I couldn’t get him on his cell so I figured I’d just go there, use the spare key, and there he was.” Alex shrugs, shaking his head, but it isn’t some show of not caring. It’s what they’re all feeling, William knows; it’s not being able to understand. “I don’t think he was even breathing at first,” he continues, voice hushed like a confession. William notices that Alex’s eyes are red, almost damp still, and it hurts and all William can think is how wrong this all is. “Then I rolled him over and he started puking up, so I called 911 and here we are, just a few hours and a stomach pumping later.”
William is still slightly stunned, still racking his brain for the right words to say, if there are any, when his attention is grabbed by the door marked 206 opening with a heavy click from the mechanism and the handle. Nate steps out, closing the door behind him as he declares, “He’s awake again, if you guys wanna…” Nate’s eyes fall on William and he stops short. Then he just nods, turning slightly to pull the door handle down again, nudging the door to swing open as he steps aside, leaving William’s path open.
William just nods back, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ as he walks past Nate and into the hospital room.
The door clicks shut again behind him but William barely registers it, his mind too busy taking in the sight of Gabe sat there in the bed, propped up against the white pillows with the white sheets gathered up around him making the pale blue gown he’s wearing seem almost colourful in comparison. Gabe’s skin seems paler, too, even surrounded by the complete lack of colour.
It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in months and it feels more like years. Gabe’s hair looks a little different, and his clothing shockingly so; denim and bright shirts swapped for a bland hospital gown, but those eyes are the same, just a little darker - deader, maybe, William thinks before he can stop his mind from making the unfortunate choice of word which brings a wave of nausea turning his stomach.
He shakes it off as much as he can, though, offering Gabe an attempt at a smile as he walks forward the few steps to the foot of the bed where he then stands awkwardly, one hand hooked in his pants pocket by his thumb, and suddenly William feels sixteen again for the way his words jumble in his head in the presence of this one man.
Or maybe it’s the situation, now; the where and why rather than who. Hospital. Gabe. What Gabe did.
William feels sick again, but he pushes it away, kicks the feeling back down into his stomach when it threatens to rise up into his throat and infect his whole body.
“How…” are you? William was going to say, but he stops himself and adds a word at the last second, making the question just slightly safer and a little less stupid seeming. “How are you feeling?”
“Alright.” Gabe glances down, making a face as he tugs as his hospital gown. It’s so normal, feels so familiar, William can almost forget and he smiles. Gabe smiles back. “Just my stomach feels kinda shitty, ’cause they… whatever. You know.” He shrugs, and William just nods in response as images flash through his mind; Gabe surrounded by doctors and nurses, Gabe with tubes down his throat, with an oxygen mask on after, needing to be brought back from almost…
William closes his eyes for a moment, as though that can help him stop visualising those things. As though he’ll even come close to forgetting anytime soon. Then he steps forward, just another few inches, so he can sit on the edge of the bed.
He fights with himself for a few seconds, not wanting to ask but needing to, needing to at least try and understand.
“How could you?” William keeps his voice quiet, tries to keep his tone neutral; calm and not accusing. But it’s hard, pretty much too hard when he feels so betrayed in himself, even if he has little right these days, and Victoria’s crying and The Ivy League have postponed dates and there are all these people who love Gabe - love him like family, and even… yeah. It’s just too hard to keep the hurt out of voice completely, but William tries his best.
A mixture of guilt and pain floods Gabe’s eyes in the second and a half he manages to hold eye contact with William before he looks away. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” William throws back, without thinking, and he can’t quite decide whether he should regret it or not.
Gabe’s eyes suddenly snap back an instant later, all challenge and shock and with an air of being insulted, maybe, and no, Gabe doesn’t get to do that right now. Not after this.
“Gabe. Just.” William sighs, glancing away for a second himself before the words spill from him, almost without his permission: “You tried to kill yourself, for fuck’s sake.” Gabe visibly flinches. William hates himself for it. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t - It’s ju-just…”
“I know,” Gabe interrupts him, shaking his head. “S’cool. I get it.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, eyes dropping to fix on the bed covers in front of him. “Sorry doesn’t really cut it with this shit.”
William doesn’t know what to say. He wants to say “It’s okay.” or “Yes, sorry works. Promise never-again and it’ll all be fine..” William would love to lie, but he can’t, so he doesn’t say anything.
A minute or so passes, then. “I was drunk,” Gabe offers, almost like another apology, and William has to stop himself from rolling his eyes on instinct.
“Friday night at A&K drunk, or last Midtown show afterparty drunk?”
“Somewhere in between.”
“Not drunk enough.” William sighs. He knows Gabe too well, knows every side of him, has seen him at best and worst and everything in between over the years. “Not enough to not know what you were doing. Not you.”
Silence falls between them again. It’s as much a confession as if Gabe had confirmed it out loud and for a few moments William forgets how to breathe.
“I’m…” Gabe starts off, finally, staring at where the needle is sticking in his hand and fiddling with the tape holding it there. William leans across and curls his fingers around Gabe’s wrist, gently tugging his hand away from the drip and settling Gabe’s other hand back on the covers, his own dropping to rest beside it; not touching, just… there. Gabe lifts his head, giving William a small smile. Any happiness associated with the expression is negated, though, by the sadness in his eyes as he says the words quietly. “I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost, and I can’t…” Gabe screws his eyes shut as he ducks his head down a little, fingers tightening into a fist around the covers. It’s like he’s having to ride something out, and William doesn’t envy not knowing exactly what.
Pausing for just a second, William shifts his hand those couple of inches, gradually easing his fingers between Gabe’s and the sheet until Gabe hand is gripping his fingers instead.
The he waits, just waits until Gabe opens his eyes again a moment later, embarrassment now having crept in behind the pain in his expression, and wait’s a little while longer for Gabe to look at him properly again.
“Seven years, two bands, more identities than I could ever keep track of...” William looks Gabe right in the eyes as he smiles a little, actually feeling it for the first time since arriving in the city - the first even remotely positive feeling since getting that phone call in the supermarket, even. “But you’ve always been you, Gabe. Always.”
“I don’t know what I’m - I mean.” He sighs. “Who am I, Bilvy?” Gabe asks, voice childlike and eyes widened; questioning, more than a little bit desperate, maybe.
William gives Gabe’s fingers a small squeeze, the physicality there to back up his words and the promise in them; the matching promise in his eyes as he keeps them looking right into Gabe’s. “We’ll figure it out.”
Author: minus_four
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Gabe/William
POV: 3rd, present
Summary: Slinging his backpack up over his shoulder, William stands where he is for a few moments, looking up at the brightly lit words above the doorway, the light in an odd contrast to how he feels himself just now; dark, and kind of numb. The word seems to burn into his eyes almost, with the brightness of it, stark and unapologetic.
Disclaimer: To my knowledge these events depicted here are completely untrue. The title is a Midtown song.
Warnings: Mention of self harming actions and drunk!Gabe. Triggering aspects.
(prologue)
Once William goes straight from the airport to the address Alex had sent him in a text message, he’s tired as all fuck. And he’s allowed to be, he figures as he walks up to the entrance after paying the cab driver, what with the flight and the rest of the travel it’s getting on for past 9pm with every minute of that time since the supermarket spent stressed so it feels like much longer than the reality.
Slinging his backpack up over his shoulder, William stands where he is for a few moments, looking up at the brightly lit words above the doorway, the light in an odd contrast to how he feels himself just now; dark, and kind of numb. The word seems to burn into his eyes almost, with the brightness of it, stark and unapologetic.
Hospital.
Taking a deep breath to steel himself, William walks forward, pushing through the swinging double doors and heading right for the reception desk.
“I need to see Gabe Saporta - in room 206. I’m family,” William lies, and it comes so easy, and the woman behind the desk barely hesitates before she’s nodding. William guesses it’s half the raised status Gabe and the Cobras have now, and half the fact he must look like hell himself, but whatever the reason William’s simply glad for it.
“Take the elevator up to the second floor, turn right, and you’ll see it.” She smiles, but William can only bring himself to nod his thanks before he’s off walking again, heading for his next destination of the elevator.
Everything’s in steps in his head, and has been for the last few hours, now. Get to New York, get to the hospital, get up to the room… Maybe he’s just been trying not to think about why he’s here, ultimately, but William gets a reminder all too soon once the elevator doors open again and he steps out onto the second floor. The receptionist was right, and William sees the guys right away; Ryland sat on a generic waiting area chair, Alex stood leaning against the wall next to the door with Victoria leaning against him in turn. Her face is half buried in his chest and his arms are just resting loosely around her body, one hand rubbing between her shoulders in soothing motions. Glancing up and seeing William walking toward them, Ryland immediately stands up, then ready to greet William with a hug as soon as he gets close enough.
William welcomes it, lets it envelope him as he takes a deep breath in and out. Then he waits, letting Ryland take as long as he needs before he starts to pull back, and William does the same.
He keeps his hand resting on Ryland’s arm though. “You okay?” A split second later William regrets it, feeling like an idiot. “Dumb question. Sorry.”
Ryland shakes his head. “Fine, I guess,” he says, though his eyes tell a different story.
Catching movement in his peripheral vision William turns a little and just about has time to register Victoria’s tear stained face, eyes red and make up messy, before she’s hugging him too. William wraps his arms tightly around her, needing to help in any way he can, while he just thinks Why. Why does she have to be hurting like this?
Still holding Victoria, William lifts his head to exchange a look and a nod with Alex, a silent communication from both of them which says yeah, I’m “fine” too. William sighs, his chest physically hurting as he feels Victoria’s body hitch against his and he realises she’s crying again - or it’s just leftover, like aftershocks, but it’s still just so far from okay.
William tightens his hold around Victoria’s body, turning his head a little to speak softly in her ear murmuring lies (“It’s okay. Shh, it’s okay.”) and meaningless comforts (“I’m sorry.”) Half a minute later she’s calmed down again, or at least getting there, but William still doesn’t move himself until Ryland has stepped around, lifting one hand to gently push back Victoria’s hair and just let her know he’s there.
“Sorry, Bill,” Victoria tells him quietly as she steps back, wiping her thumb under each eye and shaking her head. William just echoes the movement and she gives him a shaky smile - or something that might have gotten there on any normal day. She walks over to the chairs lining the hallway and sits down, automatically leaning sideways to rest her head on Ryland’s shoulder when he joins her.
William takes the opportunity to take Alex aside. “Ry said that you found him,” he prompts, and William wishes he had the self control to not ask this, not ask Alex to relive what he’d probably already had to a few times, if the scene wasn’t constantly playing in his head. Hell, William didn’t even know and the different possibilities had been running around his mind for the last three hours along with how, how… and above all else, why.
“It was dumb luck,” Alex starts, breathing out a sickly sounding laugh. “A fucking scarf. That’s what saved Gabe’s life. I wanted to take it on tour with me - with me and Ry, and I’d left it at Gabe’s place. And I couldn’t get him on his cell so I figured I’d just go there, use the spare key, and there he was.” Alex shrugs, shaking his head, but it isn’t some show of not caring. It’s what they’re all feeling, William knows; it’s not being able to understand. “I don’t think he was even breathing at first,” he continues, voice hushed like a confession. William notices that Alex’s eyes are red, almost damp still, and it hurts and all William can think is how wrong this all is. “Then I rolled him over and he started puking up, so I called 911 and here we are, just a few hours and a stomach pumping later.”
William is still slightly stunned, still racking his brain for the right words to say, if there are any, when his attention is grabbed by the door marked 206 opening with a heavy click from the mechanism and the handle. Nate steps out, closing the door behind him as he declares, “He’s awake again, if you guys wanna…” Nate’s eyes fall on William and he stops short. Then he just nods, turning slightly to pull the door handle down again, nudging the door to swing open as he steps aside, leaving William’s path open.
William just nods back, mouthing a silent ‘thank you’ as he walks past Nate and into the hospital room.
The door clicks shut again behind him but William barely registers it, his mind too busy taking in the sight of Gabe sat there in the bed, propped up against the white pillows with the white sheets gathered up around him making the pale blue gown he’s wearing seem almost colourful in comparison. Gabe’s skin seems paler, too, even surrounded by the complete lack of colour.
It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in months and it feels more like years. Gabe’s hair looks a little different, and his clothing shockingly so; denim and bright shirts swapped for a bland hospital gown, but those eyes are the same, just a little darker - deader, maybe, William thinks before he can stop his mind from making the unfortunate choice of word which brings a wave of nausea turning his stomach.
He shakes it off as much as he can, though, offering Gabe an attempt at a smile as he walks forward the few steps to the foot of the bed where he then stands awkwardly, one hand hooked in his pants pocket by his thumb, and suddenly William feels sixteen again for the way his words jumble in his head in the presence of this one man.
Or maybe it’s the situation, now; the where and why rather than who. Hospital. Gabe. What Gabe did.
William feels sick again, but he pushes it away, kicks the feeling back down into his stomach when it threatens to rise up into his throat and infect his whole body.
“How…” are you? William was going to say, but he stops himself and adds a word at the last second, making the question just slightly safer and a little less stupid seeming. “How are you feeling?”
“Alright.” Gabe glances down, making a face as he tugs as his hospital gown. It’s so normal, feels so familiar, William can almost forget and he smiles. Gabe smiles back. “Just my stomach feels kinda shitty, ’cause they… whatever. You know.” He shrugs, and William just nods in response as images flash through his mind; Gabe surrounded by doctors and nurses, Gabe with tubes down his throat, with an oxygen mask on after, needing to be brought back from almost…
William closes his eyes for a moment, as though that can help him stop visualising those things. As though he’ll even come close to forgetting anytime soon. Then he steps forward, just another few inches, so he can sit on the edge of the bed.
He fights with himself for a few seconds, not wanting to ask but needing to, needing to at least try and understand.
“How could you?” William keeps his voice quiet, tries to keep his tone neutral; calm and not accusing. But it’s hard, pretty much too hard when he feels so betrayed in himself, even if he has little right these days, and Victoria’s crying and The Ivy League have postponed dates and there are all these people who love Gabe - love him like family, and even… yeah. It’s just too hard to keep the hurt out of voice completely, but William tries his best.
A mixture of guilt and pain floods Gabe’s eyes in the second and a half he manages to hold eye contact with William before he looks away. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” William throws back, without thinking, and he can’t quite decide whether he should regret it or not.
Gabe’s eyes suddenly snap back an instant later, all challenge and shock and with an air of being insulted, maybe, and no, Gabe doesn’t get to do that right now. Not after this.
“Gabe. Just.” William sighs, glancing away for a second himself before the words spill from him, almost without his permission: “You tried to kill yourself, for fuck’s sake.” Gabe visibly flinches. William hates himself for it. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t - It’s ju-just…”
“I know,” Gabe interrupts him, shaking his head. “S’cool. I get it.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, eyes dropping to fix on the bed covers in front of him. “Sorry doesn’t really cut it with this shit.”
William doesn’t know what to say. He wants to say “It’s okay.” or “Yes, sorry works. Promise never-again and it’ll all be fine..” William would love to lie, but he can’t, so he doesn’t say anything.
A minute or so passes, then. “I was drunk,” Gabe offers, almost like another apology, and William has to stop himself from rolling his eyes on instinct.
“Friday night at A&K drunk, or last Midtown show afterparty drunk?”
“Somewhere in between.”
“Not drunk enough.” William sighs. He knows Gabe too well, knows every side of him, has seen him at best and worst and everything in between over the years. “Not enough to not know what you were doing. Not you.”
Silence falls between them again. It’s as much a confession as if Gabe had confirmed it out loud and for a few moments William forgets how to breathe.
“I’m…” Gabe starts off, finally, staring at where the needle is sticking in his hand and fiddling with the tape holding it there. William leans across and curls his fingers around Gabe’s wrist, gently tugging his hand away from the drip and settling Gabe’s other hand back on the covers, his own dropping to rest beside it; not touching, just… there. Gabe lifts his head, giving William a small smile. Any happiness associated with the expression is negated, though, by the sadness in his eyes as he says the words quietly. “I’m lost. I’m so fucking lost, and I can’t…” Gabe screws his eyes shut as he ducks his head down a little, fingers tightening into a fist around the covers. It’s like he’s having to ride something out, and William doesn’t envy not knowing exactly what.
Pausing for just a second, William shifts his hand those couple of inches, gradually easing his fingers between Gabe’s and the sheet until Gabe hand is gripping his fingers instead.
The he waits, just waits until Gabe opens his eyes again a moment later, embarrassment now having crept in behind the pain in his expression, and wait’s a little while longer for Gabe to look at him properly again.
“Seven years, two bands, more identities than I could ever keep track of...” William looks Gabe right in the eyes as he smiles a little, actually feeling it for the first time since arriving in the city - the first even remotely positive feeling since getting that phone call in the supermarket, even. “But you’ve always been you, Gabe. Always.”
“I don’t know what I’m - I mean.” He sighs. “Who am I, Bilvy?” Gabe asks, voice childlike and eyes widened; questioning, more than a little bit desperate, maybe.
William gives Gabe’s fingers a small squeeze, the physicality there to back up his words and the promise in them; the matching promise in his eyes as he keeps them looking right into Gabe’s. “We’ll figure it out.”