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Life starts again after rehab. Or so everyone told Astolfo.It’s meant to be an emotional, facing his adoptive fathers for the first time in three months. Refreshed, supposedly. Doing better, supposedly. Ready to continue life, supposedly. But as Astolfo sets foot out of the building he’s sick of breathing the stale air of, in the middle of nowhere which gives the facility more creepiness than serenity, he’s not sure he feels much.He’s not upset, but he’s not happy to go back to normal either. Astolfo knows what everyone will tell him — that he’s only sixteen, he doesn’t have to waste his life on drugs, and Astolfo wishes to punch anyone who says that to him square in the face. In his opinion, he was perfectly fine going through secondary school chain-smoking and doing copious amounts of ketamine.The only thing he really feels is anger, mainly directed at the world. He shouldn’t have to be here. He should’ve had the opportunity to live a normal life, but instead his parents and sister were murdered on his birthday and he was assaulted by the same people; a surprise present for when he returned from school on his thirteenth birthday.As Astolfo steps forward and sees Roland clutching his rosary, eyes filled with the tears of a proud father, his eyebrows furrow together, and he remembers who he’s most angry with — whatever sick divine intervention cursed him with this life. He was never religious as a kid, but when he was adopted by Roland and Olivier, he was taken into their faith. And the thing is, at the time, he didn’t have much else, and let them share their faith even if he thought it was bullshit.Really, Astolfo continues telling himself it’s all bullshit, as if he didn’t tell Roland about his drug addiction during confession because that was the only time he worked up the courage to do it; as if his own hand doesn’t wrap around the small gold rosary hung around his neck when he steps onto the main road.“Tolfo!” Roland beams, running over to his son once he passes the threshold out of the facility garden. He throws his arms out, swamping Astolfo into a tight, suffocating hug. “Welcome back, son.”“Don’t strangle me!” Astolfo yelps, trying to push out of Roland’s iron grip but to no avail. “Hey! Dad!”“Nonsense, nonsense,” Roland says, ruffling his hair as he continues hugging him for a while longer. He only breaks away when Olivier walks to his side, prying Roland’s arms off him, before staring down at Astolfo.Olivier almost seems to hesitate, but eventually he hugs Astolfo’s shoulder from the side. “Welcome home.”“Pa…” Astolfo sighs, his face flushing a deep red shade. He really didn’t want them to make a big deal out of it, because he never wanted to go here in the first place, but when it comes down to it, it is a pretty big achievement. If only Astolfo actually felt better, recovered, and not just numb and angry.“Let’s go,” Roland says, taking his bag for him and ushering him to the car. It feels like they’re in a movie, except there’s no big revelation or twist; the love of his life isn’t running out of the shadows to save him (but trust, he’s out there somewhere). He’s just clean and he’s going home, back to his own sad life but while sober.“So,” Olivier starts, the moment he turns the key in the car ignition. “Have you thought more about going to college yet? Remember your school said you’re welcome to re-sit your GCSEs there.”Astolfo rolls his eyes, curling up in the backseat. “Pa, I don’t want to talk about this after I just fucking left rehab.”“Language,” Olivier scolds him.“Hey, hey now, we can compromise,” Roland interjects, turning to Astolfo in the back. “You don’t have to go to school, but why don’t you consider some vocational training? Something to get your energy out.” His gaze softens when his son pouts harder. “Son, I know you’re angry with the world, and it’s understandable, but you need an outlet for that anger. So think about it, okay?”“Whatever,” Astolfo scoffs, staring out the window as he broods over the suggestion. The more he thinks about it, the more he realises it wouldn’t hurt to develop some skills. Maybe even the skills to defend himself in future, so that nothing bad ever happens to him again. He can tell himself that. With a deep breath, he finally mutters in response, “… I wouldn’t mind some self-defence training.”Subtly, Roland and Olivier smile at each other in the front of the car. Their son just had his first career aspiration.Noé has had too many career aspirations and he’s admittedly a little lost.His entire time at university has gone past in a blur. When he started his psychology bachelor’s, he wanted to do research. Then he decided he wanted to do post-graduate medicine and be a clinical psychologist, though he met Vanitas — the crumbling, barely-passing, notorious medical student who went to rehab after his first year — and that dream quickly died. After that, Noé fantasised about being a teacher before going off that idea, and then decided he wanted to be a therapist. But in his third year, he’s gone back to the idea of a PhD.Noé truly believes his indecisiveness is a good thing, as he dreams about his future, having a bustling career, friends, maybe even a lover and kids, while walking to his last ever final year exam. He puts earphones in for most of the walk, taking in the weather getting warmer with each day — summer was always his favourite, especially August. Noé hopes nothing bad ever happens in August throughout the rest of his life.When he arrives at the exam hall, a few small groups dotted around the pavement outside, the music stops abruptly and he sees a call coming through, his eyes lighting up. It’s Domi, his childhood best friend, who was one of only two friends he had who spoke French when he moved here from France, at the tender age of four. He hasn’t her seen in years — she simply disappeared when they finished college three years ago, and dropped off the grid for months at a time, while Domi’s brother went to rehab multiple times and more or less dropped off the grid too.Noé is, as usual, very early for his exams, and picks up the call knowing he has enough time for a catch-up.“Domi!” he says, taking a seat on the bench, just opposite the grass. “This is a surprise. I honestly thought you’d forgotten about me.”“Good morning to you too,” Domi snickers, “I heard you had an exam this morning?”“Yes! It’s my final exam!”“Well, good luck then. Not that you need luck,” she replies. The sound of cars passing her gets louder, along with the breeze picking up. “You got your PhD too?”“Yep! I start in September,” Noé explains, raising an eyebrow as he takes in the background noise. “Where are you right now? There’s a lot of noise.”“Right, sorry. I’m just in the city.”“Where?”“Just somewhere in Europe.”Noé can’t help feel a bit put off, in truth. He was always indescribably, inseparably close to Domi, and now she left home, he went to university, and he never even knows where she’s working. “I thought you were in America?”“That was my new job. I have another one, but I’m on a bit of a break right now.”“Oh, Domi, I wish you could just tell me already!”“One day, my dear Noé. One day.”“Okay…” Noé pouts, “Did you hear from Louis?”“Uh huh,” Domi hums, “He called last night, I didn’t pick up, but he left a message saying he’s dropped out of his second round of rehab. I’m not calling him yet or I’ll tear him a new one.”“I can talk to him if you like.”“Not a chance. You’re a pushover,” Domi snorts, “I have to go now, but I’ll call you again soon. I’ll be back in the country in a couple of months anyway.”“You’re always welcome to stay at mine, wherever I am,” Noé says, “Talk later!”As soon as he hangs up, he feels something get thrown at his head. His head whips around, spotting Vanitas, his best friend (maybe) sauntering over, an iced coffee in one hand and a cigarette in the other. On the floor, there’s a scrunched-up paper bag, probably lobbed at his head by Vanitas.“Vani!” he calls out and waves like a mad-man, as if the other didn’t just launch a piece of trash at his head. “Morning!”“Tch, you’re way too happy for the mornings,” Vanitas scoffs, taking a long drag from his cigarette. “You got an exam?”“Yep. My last one. Are you going to clinicals?”“In a bit, but I got an assessment later today.”“Good luck. Don’t let anyone die.”“It’s not real patients. That’s graduate me’s problem,” Vanitas snorts derisively, “Anyway, once we’re all set, you wanna go out tonight? It’s been too long since I got wasted. And we still gotta find you a man.”“I shouldn’t be encouraging substance misuse, but… alright,” Noé frowns, but relents quickly. Vanitas has gotten a lot better since they first met at the beginning of second year. It makes him happy to see the progress and think maybe he had a positive influence.Wow, maybe Noé really can fix people!Self-defence training turned into boxing lessons, and that turned into completing a security authority qualification. Before Astolfo knows it, he’s eighteen and working his first ever job as a bouncer.It’s not the best job in the world, but it’s a start. He gets free time during the day and it’s not mentally demanding. Plus, Astolfo gets to be angry. He’s still angry at the world, and being angry at other people is cathartic. Especially when they’re drunk assholes, can’t put up a decent fight, and definitely won’t remember who he is.Things are going well, sort of. He moved out into a small studio apartment, on the other side of the city from his helicopter parents who call him every day and visit spontaneously. And Astolfo likes to pretend he’s recovered, he really does.But things go wrong sometimes.Friday night shifts are always the worst. Worse than Saturdays, even. He was sick with a cold for the past couple of nights and even had to call in sick, but hauled himself to work for the Friday night rush. His colleagues aren’t the best people ever. Just bored, like him.It’s bearable though, if he ignores his scratchy throat and the fever, even though he’s stood in the cold. Until a familiar face joins the queue, and Astolfo almost passes out.Said familiar face, like a smacked ass, recognises him too, smirking as they reach the front of the queue.“Astolfo?” he says, a sickening smirk on his lips. “Damn, I thought you’d died.”Astolfo grits his teeth. No, he will not beat up his main school bully here. No, he will not stoop that low and lose his job because of this asshole.“ID, please,” he spits, holding his hand out.“Aw, come on, you know I’m an adult, don’t you?”“I don’t care.” You certainly act like a child. “Give me the ID or no entry.”“Tch, stupid tranny,” the other curses, reaching into his wallet despite his annoyance. It’s like he wanted special treatment, but the only special treatment he’d get from Astolfo is a fist to the face. “You should’ve just stayed in rehab. Wouldn’t have missed you out here—”Astolfo delivers that special treatment extra nice. He cracks his knuckles before raising a fist, ramming it square into this asshole’s nose. Blood splatters against his knuckles as they collide with an audible crack.“Astolfo!” his colleague cries out, grabbing his arms and pulling him back. “You can’t punch people if it’s not self-defence!”“That was self-defence!” Astolfo yells, thrashing against his grip, but his colleague is older and bigger than him. “Tch, he was asking for it.”“You still can’t do that unless he tried to physically attack you.”“Whatever. I’m going home if you let that asshole in.”Although his colleague seems pissed off by the loss of business, probably preparing to receive an ass-kicking from the manager when he catches wind of what happened, this guy did call Astolfo a slur. So, he turns him away, before sending Astolfo to cool down.Astolfo clicks his tongue, pissed off that he’s essentially been put in time-out like a child. Well, he gets a break at least, as he heads straight to the outdoor area and sits in the corner. He pulls the tobacco out of his coat pocket and begins rolling a cigarette.Yeah, so when he said he was doing better, that wasn’t true in all aspects. As soon as he’d moved out, Astolfo started smoking again immediately, especially in the stress of this job. At least he’s not snorting ketamine at every given opportunity.Until he started working at a nightclub, Astolfo barely even thought about ket. But everyone around him is on something, and some nights are harder than others. Particularly tonight, when another familiar face appears across the outdoor area.Astolfo chokes on the smoke from the cigarette, almost dropping it as the other approaches him.“Yo,” he says, smirking as he stuffs his hands in his pocket. “Long time no see.”“Yeah,” Astolfo huffs, inhaling on the cigarette. “I went to rehab. What do you want? You can’t be stupid enough to fess up to the security team.”“I’m not talkin’ to the security team,” the other replies, stepping closer with a sinister grin. “I’m talkin’ to my old customer. So, what do you say? A bit for the night?”“No,” Astolfo spits, “Piss off.”“If you weren’t a bouncer, I’d punch you for talking to me like that.”“Punch me, then. I’m not buying drugs from you again.”“Fine, fine,” the other rolls his eyes. His smirk twitches upwards again as he turns around, pulling his hands from his pockets. When he walks away, he deliberately drops a small white bag onto the ground, right at Astolfo’s feet, with a wink. “Pay me next time.”Astolfo goes to yell at him, but his throat closes up as his gaze falls to the small bag of obviously ketamine. It’d be so pathetic to relapse like this, and one relapse will lead him down a very slippery slope — he hasn’t touched ket in nearly three years, but it’s right in front of him.The worst part is the fact his dealer said next time. Like he knows there’s a next time; that it won’t be just a one off.Despite the urge to throw the bag of ket down the toilet, Astolfo relapses that night.“I think I’ve decided I want to be a therapist.”“… Did you seriously just waste a three-year research PhD?”“I don’t know… Maybe!”Such a drastic career change after devoting two whole years of your life, and another to come, would cause anyone great despair and grief.Except Noé. Noé could never consider any education a waste. Sure, he might’ve dreamt of being a researcher, which is why he put his everything into this PhD. He just started his final year of it, and he very much intends to finish it. With a PhD from such a good university, he’s sorted for life, and yet the sudden change of plans to become a therapist doesn’t require a degree at all.Vanitas sighs from beside him, plucking the joint from Noé’s fingers. They’re both sitting on the roof of Noé’s shared house under the stars, getting ready to commemorate the new academic year. Noé might only be starting his final PhD year, but Vanitas is about to start his first year of general medical training; devoting his time to minimum pay as a junior doctor.“What about you?” Noé asks, pouting as Vanitas confiscates the joint. He probably thinks Noé’s sudden career change is an impulsive stoned thought. “Haven’t you changed your mind?”“No,” Vanitas says, taking a deep drag from the joint. “I never made up my mind in the first place.”“You’re basically a doctor now!” Noé beams, “Isn’t that exciting?”“Not really,” the other huffs, “Just stressful.”“What about in two years? You’ll have to pick a discipline.”“Yeah, that’s a problem for me in two years,” Vanitas deadpans, flicking away the excess ash before passing the joint back to Noé. “Maybe neurology, or… psychiatry.”“Psychiatry! Become a psychiatrist!” Noé yells, flapping his hands against Vanitas’ shoulders. “Please! Then, if I’m a therapist… we can work together?! In our own facility?!”“Ew, no!” Vanitas yelps, throwing him away. “I don’t wanna work with you?! You… You’re… annoying!”“So are you!” Noé says, “Our patients would hate you!”“Hey?!”“I’m just playing around,” he chuckles, “but it’d be fun.”“It won’t happen. I’m hardly gonna be lurking around this city where everyone knows my reputation,” Vanitas scoffs. He leans back a little, staring at Noé as he inhales on the joint. “Why’d you change your mind though? You had loads of research ideas. Some of them were… decent, I guess.”“I still like the idea of research, and I’m glad I’ll have a PhD,” Noé says, “however… I want to help people. I’ve always thought I could make a difference. I mean, I fixed you, didn’t I?”“You did not.”“I did,” he chuckles, but the smile drops quickly. “But I never managed to help my best friend when I was younger… I wish I could have.”“Louis, right?” Vanitas asks.“Yeah. I don’t know where he is now. Last I heard, he went to rehab, but I doubt he’s there anymore.”“Don’t blame him. Rehab fucking sucks.”“I wish it didn’t,” Noé sighs longingly, “I haven’t heard from Domi recently either. I miss her a lot.”“Weh, weh.” Vanitas mocks him with fake crying noises, nudging his shoulder with a sly grin. “Stop yearning over your childhood best friends. We need to find you a man.”For now, Noé disagrees. He’s a career man exclusively. No time to sleep around.“… In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit... Amen. Bless me, f… Father, for I have sinned. It is six… six months… since my last confession.”As he speaks those words, engraved in the back of his mind, Astolfo wants to smash his head against the walls of the confession box. He’s glad there’s a partition between him and the priest — the priest who just so happens to be his dad — so that he can’t see the furious blush on his cheeks.When Astolfo was younger, he had to go to confession a lot. He hated it at first, but grew to understand why it was important. His fingers wrap around the rosary hung from his neck. He hasn’t been to mass in months. Without his parents to force him, he neglects his faith. Astolfo barely noticed it, until Roland invites him to Easter mass, and he’s swamped with guilt the moment he walks into the church.Six months since his last confession. A lot has happened in six months.“Speak freely,” Roland says. His tone remains neutral like it’s supposed to, but Astolfo can’t ignore the fact it’s his father he’s talking to. “The lord will listen.”“I know,” Astolfo mutters, getting a little choked up. God probably isn’t listening, but his dad is. And if God is listening, he’ll be mad at him. “I’m… nineteen, and I’m working as a bouncer.”Roland stays silent. As a father, he could never shut up, but right now he’s a priest, a neutral voice of guidance. Astolfo tries to remember that as he speaks, staring down at his trembling hands; he has a lot of sins to confess. If he’s going to scrape any chance at getting into Heaven, he might as well try. Hell might be better suited to him, but Astolfo refuses to share a space in the afterlife with the sick fucks who assaulted and killed his family.“I… have sinned since my last confession,” he stammers, sniffing hard. His nose hurts. That relapse all those weeks ago wasn’t just once after all. He inhales sharply, trying to remember what to say. “I am… sorry for my sins, with… all my heart. In choosing to, uh… do wrong— failing to do good, I have sinned against… Disappointed you.”He may have disappointed God, but Astolfo knows first and foremost he’s disappointed his parents.“How have you sinned, Astolfo?” Roland asks.“I… haven’t respected my temple,” he mumbles, trying to put doing copious amount of ketamine into holy terms. He scratches his nose, staring at the floor; everything slightly fuzzy, because of course he couldn’t do confession sober right now. “I have lied too.”“And what did you lie about? Did you lie to the Lord?”“Well, not exactly…” Astolfo says, “Just… to my parents. I told them I was better, but I’m not… better. I’ve been getting into fights and… neglecting my faith. I’ve hurt… myself. And other people.”When Roland says nothing, clearly expecting more, Astolfo decides to just finish there. They’d be here forever if he went through every single one of his sins.“This is all I can remember,” he mutters under his breath, fighting back the urge to cry. “I am sorry for these and… all of my sins.”“Amen. May the Lord be with you. This priest assigns you a penance of asking for help. Whenever you see fit, from whoever.”“… Okay,” Astolfo sighs, “… seek help.”“Seek help,” Roland says. Roland says it. Not the priest. “Go in peace.”Before leaving the confession box, Astolfo crosses himself one more time, recites the first prayer he was taught by Olivier the night he was adopted, then steals himself to leave. He’s a mess, trying to keep his composure, but when he sees Roland stood outside the box, having removed the priest robes, something snaps.“Is that better?” he asks, that stupidly soft and welcoming smile on his lips.“… Yeah,” Astolfo whispers, his breath hitching in his throat. Before he can stop it, the first wave of tears rolls down his cheeks, which he hastily tries to wipe with his sleeve but to no avail. “Sorry.”“Don’t apologise to me,” Roland says, stepping over to him and pulling him into a hug. It makes him feel terribly weak, being comforted like this when he’s an adult. “What happened?”“I relapsed,” Astolfo replies, words muffled by the other’s shoulder, but not enough to go unheard. “I didn’t— I thought I was doing better.”“You were. You just slipped, and that’s okay. Mistakes happen.” There’s a short pause, as Roland runs his fingers through his hair and sniffs gently. “Did you start smoking again too?”“Yeah,” Astolfo murmurs rather pitifully, knowing he probably smells. He smells like shit in general, most likely. It’s not the first time he’s been an addict. “I fucked up.”“Nothing you did can’t be fixed,” Roland says, pulling away eventually. “Do you want to come back home for this afternoon? Olivier is cooking a roast for Sunday lunch.”Whilst Astolfo would love to say no, scream at him to fuck off and stop pretending he cares, the words get caught in his throat. His life has been one big failure at this point, one mistake after another, and he refuses to be a lost cause when he’s supposed to have grown up into a respectable adult.“… Yeah. Let’s go home.”For the final year of his PhD, Noé remained a career man. So, the moment he finished, Vanitas grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and told him it was time they went out to a club to get absolutely shit-faced. It was the first time they’d done so together since their undergraduates, and as they stand in the queue, Noé — as a 24-year-old — feels like an old man.“Everyone looks so young…” he comments idly, “I don’t remember looking this baby when I was in my first year.”“That’s because you were a six-foot giant,” Vanitas deadpans.“Six-two, actually,” Noé corrects him. He looks around, taking in the vibe, but he still feels out of place. “I forgot, what’s the music like here again? It better not be an illegal rave like you took me to in second year.”“I’m not repeating that either,” Vanitas grumbles, as he begins rolling a cigarette, the queue to get inside moving painfully slow. “Except the MD part. Got a bag in my sock as usual.”“You know, Vani, I don’t if that’s—”“No way. Noé, is that you?!”When Noé heard Domi’s voice from behind him, he almost jumped out of his skin.“Domi?!” he yelped, turning around instantly, and forgetting about Vanitas right beside him at the bar. “I thought you were in Europe?!”“I finished that job last week,” Domi grinned, hugging Noé as soon as he opened his arms.Vanitas wasn’t as impressed. “Who is this, and why did they make us lose our place in the queue?”“Right, I’ll… buy this round,” Noé said, regaining his place in the queue. As he did, he gestured back to Domi, then said to Vanitas, “This is Domi. She’s my best friend from school.”“Mhm yep, born and raised in the same street~” Domi chimed. She ruffled Noé’s hair briefly, handing him her card. “I’ll pay. My last job earnt me a lot.”“What, you doin’ sex work or something?” Vanitas scoffed.“No, but that might be more fun,” Domi hummed, looking at her nails casually then shooting him a wicked grin. “I unfortunately can’t share details of my work. It’s secret.”“I bet it’s not that dramatic,” Vanitas said.“Oh, and what do you do?” Domi asked, folding her arms over her chest and cocking an eyebrow at him. “And how do you know Noé, might I ask?”“I’m a doctor, actually. Second year general medical training,” Vanitas replied. “We met six years ago at uni.”“Yes, it’s true! He was crying in the l— Ah, anyway,” Noé cut himself off when Vanitas glared at him, but Domi obviously got the sentiment. He turned back to Domi, waiting for her to order the drinks then saying, “I just finished my PhD. I’m in therapy training now. Can you believe that?!”“Wow, I’m proud of you,” Domi said, passing him a Jägerbomb and something else. “Maybe you and Vanitas will work together in the future~”“Ohh, that’d be so fun!” Noé’s face lit up, whacking Vanitas’ shoulder before they moved away from the bar and he glanced down. “Ah, Domi, you know I can’t drink Jägerbombs…”“That’s fine,” Vanitas said, snatching the drink out of his hand and knocking it back. “I came to a nightclub to get drunk, not socialise.”“Ah? Why not both?” Domi grinned, as she lifted her drink and downed it too. “I reckon I could outdrink you~”“Yeah, right,” Vanitas snorted derisively. “I’d like to see you try.”As Vanitas and Domi’s arguing began to drown out, Noé’s attention diverted elsewhere, as he noticed a fight gathering in the dancefloor next to the bar. As his saviour complex (which Vanitas had made fun of for the past six years) kicked into play, Noé followed the fighting.When he got there, he spotted two men, one much bigger than the other, throwing punches at each other.“Hey!” Noé yelled, identifying the victim here and shoving the bigger, muscular man out of the way. “Leave him alone!”“Hah?!” the man shrieked, shoving the other away and walking straight up to Noé. “Stay outta this!”“No!” Noé said, arms folded over his chest. A moment later, the man threw a punch. Noé didn’t get hit, and managed to avoid it with plenty of time, but he wasn’t one for fighting and a second later, the man’s hand was on his collar.Contempt in his eyes, he crawled down on top of Noé, spitting at the floor beside his head, scanning him over, and screwing his face up harder. “Tch. You’re a fuckin’ fag—”“Hey! You assholes!”When Noé saw one of the bouncers coming over, he felt some relief, right up until he remembered said bouncer was a couple of feet shorter than him, with pink hair and the stature of a twig. He said nothing as the guy was thrown off Noé by the bouncer, the two of then spitting insults at each other until the bouncer twisted the homophobe’s wrist so hard it cracked and he immediately ran away. He continued listening to the very drunk guy shouting slurs at them, and the closer Noé looks, the queerer the bouncer seems.“You okay?” he asked, extending a hand.“Yeah, don’t worry! He didn’t succeed in hitting me!” Noé said, taking the other’s hand and smiling weakly as he stood up and brushed himself off. “Thank you very much though, you helped me a lot! What’s your name?”“Uh… Astolfo. And you?”Noé beamed. “The name’s Noé. Nice to meet you!”After meeting the twink bouncer as a one-off, after he saved him from getting punched square in the face, Noé did not expect to wake up in bed with him.His head is pounding as he sits up, taking in the sight of his familiar bedroom but the unfamiliar body beside him under the sheets. Following the fight (which never turned into a real fight, thanks to the pink-haired twink), his memories of the rest of the night are a bit of blur. He remembers Vanitas dragging him to the bar and forcing drinks down his throat, followed by Domi buying him more drinks too. Vanitas challenged Domi to a drinking contest, and Noé somehow ended up going at the same pace as them, until he blacked out.At no point does he remember taking this guy home though! He doesn’t even remember his name!“Oh, no…” Noé mumbles, wondering what to do. Should he wake him up? Kick him out? Make him breakfast? Ask for his number? He only ever had one single one-night-stand in first year and that time, he woke up in the other guy’s house and did the walk of shame home.Slowly, he sits up and grabs his phone, seeing two messages: an incoherent combination of letters something along the lines of I’m home now from Vanitas, and a “have a good night” plus a winky face from Domi. Oh, so Domi knows he went home with this guy. God, what did he do?!Noé decides to do the very unconventional but polite thing, and gets up to make tea. Well, what else is he supposed to do? The condom on the floor both a good and bad sign: on the one hand, they used protection, but on the other hand, they actually did fuck.Before he can get out of bed though, the other man stirs in the bed beside him, kicking at the sheets as he groans.“Uh, good morning…?” Noé says, “Welcome…?”“Welcome…? What the fuck?!” the other yelps, shooting up in the bed and looking around. He turns to Noé in horror. “Why am I here?!”“Well, I don’t really remember! I don’t even remember your name, actually.”“… Astolfo,” he deadpans, “My name is Astolfo, your name is Noé, and your stupid fucking best friend Vanitas is an idiot!”“What did he do?” Noé asks. He’s not going to protest that Vanitas is an idiot. He is.“My shift finished last night and I had to drag him out and call a taxi, because he was too busy throwing up! Then your annoying friend Domi kept throwing her arms over me and telling me you were single!”“I am single, true,” Noé nods, completely missing the source of Astolfo’s frustration.“That’s not the point!” Astolfo screeches, his face red as he frantically gathers up his clothes. “Just… forget this ever happened!”“I don’t remember it happening in the first place?” Noé says, tilting his head. Again. Missing the point. “I wish I did, though. It’s a bit messy here, so I imagine it was good.”“It wasn’t—! Fine, it was… alright,” Astolfo grumbles, “I remember the… the sex, but I was… That Domi woman you were with bought me drinks when I finished my shift too, so I was… drunk too, I think.”As he says that, Noé frowns a little, sensing his sudden anxiety.“Is there a problem with that?” he asks, donning those future-therapist, ‘tell-me-everything’ eyes.“No! I just… Nothing.”“I know I’m not entitled to know your life story,” Noé starts, “but if I did something to upset you by getting drunk with you, or sleeping with you, I’d like you to tell me.”“It’s nothing you did,” Astolfo hisses, slowly dressing himself. “Just… I need to know if I took any drugs.”“Oh,” Noé pouts, “I don’t think so, but I can ask Domi. She may have been plastered too, but she never blacks out! She’ll remember everything!”“Don’t?!” Astolfo yelps, raking his fingers through his hair. “It’s fine. As long as I didn’t.”“Can I ask why?”“No,” Astolfo hisses, but somehow, the words spill from his lips anyway, following a defeated sigh. “I only just… left rehab. Yesterday was my first shift back at work.”“If it’s any consolation, I don’t usually sleep with people who are several inebriated. It goes against my morals!”“You’re so weird, Jesus Christ.”“That’s mean. I’m not the one with pink hair.”“Hey—!”“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Noé chuckles, throwing his arms up. Their bickering reminds him of him and Vanitas, but with more sexual tension. Astolfo seems irritated by him, and Noé isn’t pleased with his dismissive attitude, but after hearing a fraction of his issues, he’s decided he can fix him. Before he can continue, however, his gaze falls to Astolfo’s hands, now holding the rosary he picked up from the floor. “You’re religious?”“Mhm,” Astolfo nods, hanging the rosary around his neck. “Catholic. You can laugh at me or whatever.”“I wouldn’t laugh at you for that,” Noé smiles softly, “You know, I get the sense you don’t like me—”“I don’t—”“—but I’d feel bad kicking you out. Do you want to stay for breakfast?”“What the fuck is wrong with you?! No, I don’t!” Astolfo yelps. However, his stomach betrays him by letting out a loud rumble a second later. He’s got a half hour bus ride home at least, and he was due to go food shopping today, so there’s not even any food at his house.Noé chuckles, having heard too. “Are you sure? No commitments!”“… Fine,” Astolfo hisses through gritted teeth. “Just breakfast. Nothing more.”Not many drunken one-night-stands lead to meeting-the-parents, but… Astolfo and Noé must be weirdos. Because only a month after they meet, following many dates, Astolfo is bringing Noé home to meet his parents.He’s nervous. Because he has a boyfriend? No, he’s trans, has a mental health history list longer than the bible, and was a drug addict. Being gay is hardly going to disappoint his two gay dads. And he’s done nothing to disappoint them in that time: he went to rehab, therapy, and quit smoking for the second time, and stuck to it.When he’d told his dads he was going back to work, they’d been scared he’d relapse, but all that ended up happening on his first shift after rehab was him getting laid by his future boyfriend.No, he’s nervous, before 1) it’s embarrassing, and 2) Noé is a weirdo. He’ll get along with Roland, they’ll be best friends, but fighting for Olivier’s referral will be difficult. Noé is bubbly, blunt, and loud, and the only person in that criterion who Olivier tolerates is Roland, his husband. Everyone else with an ounce of personality irritates him. Not only that, if Noé accidentally mentions they — God forbid! — had premarital sex, he might kick him out and send Astolfo to conversion camp.“Why do you look so scared?” Noé asks, taking Astolfo’s hand as they stand at the front door. Rich person’s house.Astolfo promptly swats away Noé’s hand. They need to leave room for Jesus. “Because you’re a doofus and I don’t trust you to act normal.”“I’m very normal!” Noé insists, “I’m sure they’ll love me. I’m polite, friendly, what more can they want?”“Well, my pa — Olivier, I mean, he won’t be happy you’re not a Catholic. Same-sex marriage is fine, but inter-religion is where they draw the line,” he snorts, knowing how stupid it is, but they won’t ever change their mind.After stupidly long, the front door opens. To no surprise, Roland is the one who answers the door, swamping Astolfo in a hug the moment he sees him.“Tolfo!” he beams, squeezing him until he’s on the verge of suffocation. “Welcome home!”“Dad! Get off, I can’t breathe!”“Don’t be so dramatic, son,” Roland chuckles, pulling away. His smile softens as his expression turns more serious, hands on each shoulder. “You look a lot better.”“Thanks…” Astolfo mutters through gritted teeth, prying out of his grip.“Oh, and where are my manners?!” He turns to Noé, bouncing over to him and grabbing his hands. Noé’s eyes light up too at the affection and apparent approval, but Astolfo isn’t letting his guard down.“Astolfo. You’re back.”Speaking of which, like a ghost (amen), Olivier suddenly appears behind him in the doorway. Astolfo jumps out of his skin and turns around. “Pa?!”“Hm,” Olivier frowns, turning to stare (glare) at Noé. “And you are?”“Ah, hi…” Noé says, fumbling a bit. He returns Roland’s handshake with a nervous smile, laughing awkwardly. “My name is Noé. It’s nice to meet you!”“You’re very handsome!” Roland says, frantically shaking his hand. “I might marry you if I didn’t have my sweet, sweet Olivier.”“Dad?! What the hell?!”“Watch your language,” Olivier scolds him.“Jesus fucking Christ—”“Astolfo!”“Fine, fine!” Astolfo sighs, begrudgingly crossing himself to apologise for taking the Lord’s name in vain. “Let’s just go inside.”“Good idea! I’ll make a cup of tea.”Olivier glares at him as they walk inside. Noé wears a smile as per usual, though it falters under Olivier’s scrutinising gaze. Meanwhile Astolfo just wants to bury himself in a ditch and never witness his parents and boyfriend interact every again.It’s silent as Roland makes the tea, humming Jesus hymns to himself while he brews the kettle and hand-grinds the tea leaves. A spiritual experience, apparently. His tea is kind of gross, but Noé will be too nice to say that. Eventually, Roland presents Astolfo and Noé with a mug of tea each, before bringing one for himself and a cup of coffee for Olivier.“Astolfo,” Olivier says, narrowing his eyes at him; ignoring Noé for now. “How have you been? You haven’t called us.”“I’ve been busy,” Astolfo grumbles. “But I’m… fine. I’m… clean, if that’s what you mean.”“Did you quit smoking again?”Noé cocks an eyebrow at him. “You didn’t tell me you smoked?”“I grew out of that!” Astolfo yelps, “Can we not talk about me?! This is embarrassing!”“Nonsense, I’m sure Noé wants to hear all about your issues!” Roland says.“I do!” Noé smiles.“Noé?! S-Shut up!”“Enough bickering,” Olivier interjects, folding his arms over his chest. “Noé.”“Uh, yes sir?”“What do you do for a job?”“Oh, well I just completed a PhD in psychology, and I’m about to start therapy training!” Noé replies, “I’ll start with basic CBT but I’d also like to train in trauma therapy and dialectical behavioural therapy one day!”“… Approved,” Olivier nods, “You can get Astolfo free therapy.”“Pa!” Astolfo whines, “I don’t need therapy!”“Don’t worry, sir, I can give him therapy myself!”“That’s the spirit!” Roland grins, “Don’t worry, Tolfo, we love you really. And we are truly glad you’re doing better.”“Yeah…” Astolfo mumbles, cheeks red as he rolls his eyes and slumps back in the chair. “Thanks.”
7 years later…
“Hey, Tolfo, did you see this job ad?”When Noé speaks from the table, Astolfo rolls his eyes, still scrubbing the stove. He’s still giving Noé the silent treatment, which Noé considers totally unreasonable — all he did was spill pancake mixture over the kitchen counter and then leave it to dry up!But his attention is piqued at the mention of a new job. Since getting together, Noé and Astolfo have moved into a shared apartment, Noé became a qualified therapist trained in four different models, and Astolfo went through police academy. But Noé is working under the national health service, not getting enough money or enough time with his patients to make a meaningful change in their life, and Astolfo has been complaining non-stop about his job in law enforcement for a new reason every day. Whilst they’re fairly content with their relationship, lovingly arguing all the time and pretending to be angry at each other, their employment situations aren’t great.So, when Noé scrolls past a job opportunity on LinkedIn and clicks on it, he has to share his discovery. Sure enough, Astolfo stops what he’s doing and finally makes eye contact with him.“What?”“There’s a new prison ward opening up. It’s about half an hour from here,” Noé says, “They’re recruiting a psychiatrist, therapist, and a few guards. You have the qualifications!”“I don’t want to work in a prison,” Astolfo scoffs.“No, it’s a specialist ward. It’ll be different.”“A prison for loopy people. Even better.”“It is!”“That was sarcasm, you idiot!”“I think I’ll apply anyway,” Noé says, “I don’t really want to keep working in the community. There’s no funding, and I never get enough appointments with my patients, so I feel like I’m not doing enough.”“Maybe you should just shove that saviour complex up your ass,” Astolfo replies, still scrubbing the counter as he snorts. “I wouldn’t want to work in the same place as you too. God, that’d be torture.”“I’m an excellent member of staff,” Noé insists, “Hm… I wonder if Vani will apply.”“Fuck no!”“I’m joking! He’s working in a high-risk psychiatric hospital right now. Last time I spoke to him, he liked it. I can’t imagine him working in a prison.”“He belongs there,” Astolfo deadpans. “Whatever. I’ll… apply too, if you are. We’re probably not gonna get it.”“It’s always worth trying!” Noé says, “You never know. It might be fun.”It’s always worth trying. A couple together in the same workplace — what could possibly go wrong?