casualty | guppy/stitch
Title: All the colours of fucked up
Fandom: Casualty
Characters/Pairing: Stitch/Guppy, Stitch/random women
Rating: PG
Warnings: mentions of drug use
Word Count: 313
Summary: Stitch has moved on after leaving the hospital. At least that's what he keeps telling himself. Happens after my previous fic "You can't leave".
originally posted here
The first time he sees the shadow outside his hotel he blames it on the scotch and lack of proper sleep and walks the thin while line to oblivion to get rid of that tiny flicker inside him that really can’t lead to anything. That night he dreams again, images of red mixing with voices - one voice - and he throws curses at the empty room as he wakes.
***
Next time he sees the shadow at the entrance and he turns on his heels, heading out to a bar, any bar, to find pretty women just a bit too young, just a bit too desperate to be wanted. He watches, he smiles, he charms, and loses himself in vodka and a girl called Marina who doesn’t have dark curly hair and an incredible gift in her fingers.
***
It doesn’t affect him. He doesn’t affect him. He wakes up, just a bit too late or too bloody early, he saves a patient, kills another, argues with a nurse on the corridor and fucks another in his office, and then goes back to his empty hotel room alone to a bottle of something, anything at this point, and just a little something else to keep him going.
It’s the same old routine.
He’s not an addict. He’s coping.
***
Some nights are white and he’s floating.
***
Some nights are red and green and blue and he wakes drenched in sweat.
***
Some nights are black and the bed seems continent broad. He dials a number with quickly fading determination.
A too quick answer in a too eager voice.
“Theo?”
Memory of black.
No.
***
He wretches the door open before the knock even falls, making Guppy jump.
“Oh. Thought it was that new nurse coming around for a quickie.”
He shuts the door in Guppy’s face without a goodbye.
It’s not his fault, really. It was a white night.
Fandom: Casualty
Characters/Pairing: Stitch/Guppy, Stitch/random women
Rating: PG
Warnings: mentions of drug use
Word Count: 313
Summary: Stitch has moved on after leaving the hospital. At least that's what he keeps telling himself. Happens after my previous fic "You can't leave".
originally posted here
The first time he sees the shadow outside his hotel he blames it on the scotch and lack of proper sleep and walks the thin while line to oblivion to get rid of that tiny flicker inside him that really can’t lead to anything. That night he dreams again, images of red mixing with voices - one voice - and he throws curses at the empty room as he wakes.
***
Next time he sees the shadow at the entrance and he turns on his heels, heading out to a bar, any bar, to find pretty women just a bit too young, just a bit too desperate to be wanted. He watches, he smiles, he charms, and loses himself in vodka and a girl called Marina who doesn’t have dark curly hair and an incredible gift in her fingers.
***
It doesn’t affect him. He doesn’t affect him. He wakes up, just a bit too late or too bloody early, he saves a patient, kills another, argues with a nurse on the corridor and fucks another in his office, and then goes back to his empty hotel room alone to a bottle of something, anything at this point, and just a little something else to keep him going.
It’s the same old routine.
He’s not an addict. He’s coping.
***
Some nights are white and he’s floating.
***
Some nights are red and green and blue and he wakes drenched in sweat.
***
Some nights are black and the bed seems continent broad. He dials a number with quickly fading determination.
A too quick answer in a too eager voice.
“Theo?”
Memory of black.
No.
***
He wretches the door open before the knock even falls, making Guppy jump.
“Oh. Thought it was that new nurse coming around for a quickie.”
He shuts the door in Guppy’s face without a goodbye.
It’s not his fault, really. It was a white night.