Welfare Check [Fallon & Idés]

The stinging sensation of his own guts trying to escape his insides made its way up his throat, and the contents found itself inside the toilet. The gross aftertaste of bile filled his mouth as Fallon slumped against the wall on the other side of the small room, which wasn’t that far from the toilet at all. His eyes glanced around the room. It looked as dirty as he felt.

Fallon sat there, staring at the toilet, the stench of vomit seeping into his nose. He sat there for a while. He did not know for how long, he had stopped counting minutes, stopped keeping track of time a long while ago, perhaps days ago? As if emptying his empty stomach was the start of sobering up, a familiar headache started, and with it the thoughts and memories he wanted to keep out.

It always started with the things he felt bad about in the present, then it moved to the guilt he had for the people in his past. Those who he had abandoned or ran away from. It then moved to the things he really did not want to think about, to the things he truly wanted to run away from. Like the man he ran into on the errand with Dominic.

Fallon stood up, walked out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen counter in the dusty, and most likely moldy, room that was the main room of his little apartment. As he walked, his feet bumped into empty bottles, trash, more empty bottles and even more trash. When did his place get this messy? Well, that was something to focus on another time. Now he needed to not think. Fallon was quick to find what he was looking for, didn’t need to look at the bottle as he twisted off the cap and took swig from it, just letting the fiery liquid burn down his throat and numbing his mind and body.

Feeling more and more numb for every swig of whatever alcohol was in the bottle, Fallon let his eyes drift around the room. Perhaps it was more fitting to call it a trash can in the form of a room. Dirt, dust and trash were everywhere. It looked uninhabitable. His eyes eventually drifted to the mirror hanging on the wall, as dirty and disgusting as the person he saw in it. The man with his face was staring back at him with a frown. His hair was a greasy mess, his eyes bloodshot with matching dark bags underneath due to the lack of sleep. The clothes he was wearing had once been a great party outfit, but now they were wrinkled and stained. He could not remember the last time he changed his clothes.

Fallon’s eyes drifted down his body, not daring to look at his face any longer. He had gotten skinnier, though was it really a surprise? He couldn’t remember his last meal, whether it was earlier that day or yesterday or even a couple of days ago. His left arm had small wounds around the inside of his elbow. He stared at them for a while, before he turned away from the mirror, making sure he wouldn’t accidentally look in its direction.  He tightened the grip he had around the bottle before dropping down on the couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable couch, lumpy and old. Fallon wouldn’t be surprised if he one day would be stabbed by a loose spring just by sitting down in it. Once he was seated, Fallon took another swig of the bottle, just letting the liquid burn down his throat again and numb his body and mind even more.

The numbness was better than feeling or even thinking. He didn’t have to remember anything and nothing could haunt him. It definitely made him a coward, running away from it all. Fallon has always been a coward, a coward who ran away from everything. This all had started from that simple act. Though the numbness from the alcohol as well as the party flavors he had from yesterday’s, or maybe the day before, party made it certain he could no longer feel the guilt of a coward.

With the turn off a key, the rumbling engine of an old, beat up brown car turned to silence. Idés exhaled heavily, leaning back into the plush seating as he rubbed the space between his brows. This weekend had already been a lot. From Gwyn breaking down, to the meeting, to a night with next to no sleep, he was already more exhausted than he rationally had any right to be. Now the Gwyn situation had been sorted out, which meant the next on his list was Fallon. Somehow he felt that this would be the difficult one out of the two of them. The silence of the car seemed almost pleasant for a moment. He looked out the stained window, watching as the world went by outside. A group of teenagers walking by, passing a bottle of something wrapped in a brown paper bag between them, their voices echoing across the Erast streets, one of them playing music from a speaker in his hand. Idés eyes traced them as they went down the street, chest feeling tight. And then they were gone. The car was still silent. It didn't feel pleasant anymore.

Turning his gaze away, he was gripping the wheel. He couldn’t linger. He was here for a reason. He let go, unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car, the warmth of the sun hitting him as well as the smell of trash heated under it. He eyed the building in front of him. Graffitied red bricks, rusty pipes and metal beams, the signage of the rundown bar on the right of the building, a smashed window of the corner store at the left. The curtains drawn over Fallon’s window on the second floor, keeping out the sun. Iosta knows if the man was even awake.

He sighed one last time. He shouldn’t be dreading this. Perhaps Idés was a bad friend for dreading it anyways. Closing the car door, locking it, he walked the few steps to the front door and rang the intercom. Idés pocketed his hands, shifting the weight on his feet as he waited for Fallon to buzz him inside.

Today the alcohol didn’t drown the thoughts and memories out. Today it just amplified everything. Today it seemed to show him things he didn’t want to think about with each and every drop. Today was a day Fallon could not run after all. Taunting him with the happy and long gone memories of his childhood. The fact he could barely remember his mother’s voice anymore. His brother’s faces turning blurry, would he recognize them if he ever saw them again? Would they recognize him? How would they react? Disappointed? Disgusted?

Then the memories of that house, that awful house. The nightmare disguised as a dream. A nightmare that still very much haunted him. They had promised him his dreams, to leave, to see the world. Instead they had clipped his wings and locked him in a pretty cage. Parading him as some exotic animal. But who could he blame but himself? They used him and perhaps he had deserved every second of it, every second of the punishments he got. every scar that littered his back. Sometimes he still dreams about the screaming amongst the fire, sometimes they are dragging him back into the house to burn with them.

The buzzing noise of the intercom snapped Fallon out his thoughts. With a groan Fallon put the bottle down and got up from the couch, the creaking noise loud in his ears. He stumbled towards the intercom. Fallon wasn’t expecting anyone, he just assumed it was one of his neighbors that had forgotten their key and buzzed a random apartment number to be let in, so without asking who it was, he buzzed them in.

Fallon had just sat back down on the coach when a knock on his door. Fuck. Who was even here? Who even bothered to show up unannounced to his place? Fallon walked over to the door once again, side eyeing his reflection in the mirror as he passed it. He opened the door slightly, a scowl on his face. Idés stood in the hall, about to knock again. He looked like his usual self. Fallon perhaps did not.

“What do you want?” Fallon asked, a biting tone to his words. “What are you even doing here?” He added. Idés shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be near him. He stared down at the shorter man. A cough escaping him from the dryness of his throat. It was the first time he spoke today after all. He scratched lightly at the wounds on the inside of his elbow as he waited for Idés to say something, or better yet to leave. Leave and to never look back. He should just let Fallon rot here.

When the door buzzed, Idés entered, heading up the staircase that led to Fallon’s apartment, boards creaking underneath the worn blanketed steps. The air was old and stale, as if the building had been starved of fresh air. A mix of poor ventilation and lack of upkeep, he supposed. Though he didn’t mind it as much as he probably should have. It reminded him of home. That and the musty smell with the slightest hint of cigarettes – Idés old school had smelled like that too. The yellowish white paint was chipping off the walls, he noticed as he found himself in front of Fallon’s door.

He honestly wasn’t surprised to find it unopened. He simply knocked. And then he waited. And then nothing. He shifted the weight on his feet. For a moment he considered whether Fallon was even home – but he had to be, otherwise he wouldn’t have buzzed him in.

He lifted his arm to knock again but the door opened, revealing a sickly looking Fallon with a hostile look on his face – frowning, a wrinkle between his brow. What do you want? He bit. What are you even doing here?

Idés blinked in surprise. Whether his anger was because of the unexpected visit or because of Idés personally, he wasn’t sure.  His suspicion that this would not be an easy talk was already confirmed. He held back the urge to sigh. But Fallon clearly wasn’t doing well. His skin looked pale and clammy, dark circles under his eyes, scratching something on the inside of his elbow. And Idés' stomach churned with guilt for not reaching out sooner.

“I, uh. Hi Fallon,” he said, pocketing his hands. He couldn’t mention the meeting Fallon had missed in the hallway, could he? In case someone overheard.“Can I come in?”

Fallon’s frown did not leave his face. He stared at Idés, debating if he should just shut the door in his face. He did not do that, instead Fallon sighed, stepped aside and opened the door some more, just enough for Idés to come in. The way he had worded himself hinted at this was something related to the EFA. Why else would Idés be here? Surely not for any concern of Fallon. After all, when was even the last time he had heard from Idés? He could not remember at all.

As the door closed behind Idés, Fallon was moving towards the lumpy old couch. He kicked away the empty bottle by his feet as he sat down. The coffee table in front of him, as old and ancient as the rest of the little furniture he owned, was covered in different kinds of trash and empty bottles and cans. Underneath some old paper bag were needles and syringes. His whole place was in a more sorry state than it had been before. However, it wasn’t like Fallon even cared about it anymore.

“You’re inside now, what do you want?” Fallon asked as he stared at the other man. “Or should I ask what Dominic wants? Ya know since you’re being his fucking lap dog or whatever” Fallon asked, taunting. He still had that frown on his face. He just wanted to get this quickly over, get Idés out the door as quickly as possible. So he could go back to being his pathetic self. A small part of him wanted Idés to leave and to never come back as to not be tainted by Fallon’s rot. That would have been better wouldn’t it?

Fallon looked absolutely sour at Idés request to come inside. He shifted the weight on his feet. What would he even do if he shut the door in his face? It seemed like they stood there for an eternity and Idés debated whether he should say something more. Finally, Fallon sighed, giving in. As Idés stepped in, closing the door behind him, Fallon left to take a seat at his stained couch. Immediately the stench of alcohol hit him. When was the last time Fallon had aired out? He stepped further inside, noting a spot on the floor that felt sticky. This place really needed to be cleaned. He took in the dismal state of the apartment. It was worse than his own.

You’re inside now, what do you want? Idés blinked at the harsh tone, looking at the other man. Or should I ask what Dominic wants? Ya know since you’re being his fucking lap dog or whatever.

And for a moment, Idés just stared at him in shocked silence. He blinked again, shaking his head. “Well. You never missed a meeting before, so,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck. Was Fallon angry at him for not checking up sooner? How was he supposed to know something was up? He took in the mess again. The empty bottles and cans, empty food containers, trash strewn about. Like a party no one had ever cleaned up after. He looked at Fallon again, concern in his eyes. “Is, uh… what happened in here?”

You never missed a meeting before, so.

Fallon wanted to laugh. Idés did speak the truth, he never had missed one. Fallon felt like shit for having done so actually. He had liked being a part of the EFA. To him, it was like a small lifeline being thrown his way, a way for him to actually do something good for once. However, like everything else in his life, Fallon managed to fuck that up too.

He stared at Idés, the way he awkwardly stood, it was like he didn’t actually want to be there. Who could blame him? Fallon didn’t want to be here either. What happened here? At the question Fallon let his eyes roam around the room, looking at the trash strewn everywhere, the empty bottles and cans and the mess on the coffee table. His eyes fell to the used syringes underneath the paper bag again, the sight made him scratch at the inside of his elbow. Fallon grabbed the bottle again, taking a sip from it before his eyes returned to the awkward man just standing amidst the mess that could very well represent Fallon and his life. A huge disgusting and dirty mess.

“What? Too dirty for you? I mean you did escape erast so you must feel like your above all this,” it was a stupid attack, it wasn’t like Fallon himself thrived in this mess. It was just meant to hurt Idés enough to make him leave. “Do you even visit your family anymore?” His voice was taunting as he talked, slightly raspy. Fallon looked away from Idés staring into the bottle before taking a sip again. He knew he was hurting Idés and he did not want to see the painful expression the man probably wore right now.

What? Too dirty for you?
Idés blinked in confusion, gaping at Fallon. Even more so when he went on to talk about his family. How was that even relevant to this conversation? How was any of it? Though it made his stomach churn with guilt, he didn’t understand and he stared at Fallon in shock as he processed his words. Then, he regained his composure.

“I’ve– uh, I, do, I… just been busy,” he mumbled, rubbing his neck. Clearly, Fallon was lashing out. He had no other reason to be attacking him, did he? He shifted the weight of his feet, unsure what to say. He should’ve checked in sooner. That was probably why Fallon was mad at him. But he had no clue how to fix that. Especially since he was here, now. What more could he do?

Clearing his throat, he finally spoke. “I came to check up on you. So…” he stated, voice stiff and awkward. He cleared his throat again, crossing his arms. “Is everything okay?”