Entry tags:
magician's apprentice | been a hell of a ride but I'm thinking it's time to grow
Dylan knew, coming out of the hospital if not going in, that getting sober wasn't going to be easy. He knew he'd have bad days and good days and days in between, and every therapist he's seen since then, every meeting he's been to has only reaffirmed that. They'd also armed him with a bag of tricks to deal with everything and everything in between, but -- well, today is one of the bad ones and nothing is helping. He's been pacing the house like a madman for the better part of the day, trying to find something to hold his attention long enough that he can stop thinking about running down to the nearest liquor store. He needs to get out of his skin. He's just shy of calling his sponsor. He needs to get out of the house.
He needs to get out of the house.
Stopping midway through moving a pile of books from one side of the living room to the other, he latches onto that idea and turns it over in his head. He needs to get out of the house.
He's moving again a second later, though this time, it's with a purpose, a clarity he hasn't felt like he's had in hours, days, weeks. He goes to Jack's room, tapping lightly on the door, and then after a beat and once he's been invited in, sticks his head in. Flashing him a smile that's equal parts reassuring and strained (he's fine, they're fine, this is nothing bad, he's just a little jittery, don't mind him), he tells him, "Hey. Pack your shit."
He has an idea. It'll be good for both of them.
He needs to get out of the house.
Stopping midway through moving a pile of books from one side of the living room to the other, he latches onto that idea and turns it over in his head. He needs to get out of the house.
He's moving again a second later, though this time, it's with a purpose, a clarity he hasn't felt like he's had in hours, days, weeks. He goes to Jack's room, tapping lightly on the door, and then after a beat and once he's been invited in, sticks his head in. Flashing him a smile that's equal parts reassuring and strained (he's fine, they're fine, this is nothing bad, he's just a little jittery, don't mind him), he tells him, "Hey. Pack your shit."
He has an idea. It'll be good for both of them.

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"And here I was, worried that you were gonna be bored," he tells him, that in mind.
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"Nah, man, this is awesome. I mean, out there's cool enough, and then all this on top of it?" He gestures vaguely, meaning to indicate the warehouse itself.
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"Anyway, uh ... " he continues after a beat, looking for the next logical step in the conversation. He's really not sure what that is, though.
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Not that he'll be disappointed if it is just a storage space, but he's trying to get them moving again, if Dylan needs to show him anything else in the warehouse or if they need to go anywhere else to look at something.
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"And there's, like, a not-quite bedroom, in the back."
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"Oh, yeah," he returns, glancing toward where he assumes Dylan means. "I guess that makes more sense than having to, like... set up an air mattress or a crappy cot or something."
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He shouldn't really be surprised to know it's just a cot, considering the rest of the space - and considering he made his previous comment based on the idea that Dylan came out to work sometimes and just ended up being here later than he meant to.
"You ever go camping or whatever? Tents and all that crap?" That's kind of a random question, but it's related to the crappy cot situation.
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"We spent the night on the beach, in the bed of a buddy's pickup truck, once, but." There had been two pickups, if you want to get technical, but that's a matter of semantics. The point he's making is that's probably the closest to camping as he's ever been, and that was years ago, decades. It also probably wasn't strictly legal, but again, semantics.
"That something you're interested in doing?"
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There's a lot he hasn't done, really, and he's not even sure if it's something he would end up doing. If the opportunity came up, he wouldn't say no, though.
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"We can try it sometime, see what with think." It's not like they can't be nearly anywhere in the blink of an eye. And by that same logic, "If we decide we hate it, we can pack up and go back home, maybe set up the tent in the living room or something, instead."
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Considering they're both from New York, he has a feeling it might not go well, but he's also not against giving it a try.
There's a lot he feels like he needs to catch up on that families usually do now that he has a family - and that thought brings with it a swirl of warmth.
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And try and figure out who's sleeping where. Maybe he should have thought to bring an air mattress.
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Shaking his head, he does, in fact, turn to lead the way through the door, which dumps out into a narrow hallway with two other doorways behind it. At one point, before him, before his father, when this place was still a construction site for the park outside, this might have been where the offices were or were planned to be.
Nodding towards the door on one side of the hallway, Dylan lets Jack peek into it. There's a small bathroom behind, with a pair of sinks and urinals to one side of a boxed in toilet stall, and a box of a shower on the other. Once Jack's seen that, Dylan indicates the other door, and --
-- well, it should be a room, no bigger than for a desk and a couple of chairs, with a cot and a nightstand wedged in, instead. It should be, but while the room is no bigger than Dylan remembers, something closer to a bed has been shoved in here against one wall, a slightly bigger end table beside it, now. It'll still be tight quarters in here, with the two of them, but at least, like this, no one will have to sleep on the floor.
That in my, Dylan blinks. "Okay, uh."
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"Yeah, that's not a crappy cot," he points out like Dylan hasn't already noticed that.
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It's not the first time he's seen a place change based on whoever happened to be in it. It's just the first time it's happened to him, in a place that belonged to him.
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Before Dylan can respond to that, though, his eyes go a little wide. "Wait, you mean like your hoodie or whatever?"
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Less deliberate, like he said, and much longer in the making, since it wasn't a focused effort.
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He doesn't how to put it into words, but they've basically already had that conversation - how the carousel has always felt Safe when very few places in the city did.
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He knows he's said that before and he should maybe be a little embarrassed to just blurt it out like that, but he means it, and he's meant it every time he's said it.
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"Kinda glad we don't have to worry about where everyone's sleeping and how much my back's gonna hate me in the morning, though," he finishes, a little more seriously.
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He laughs at Dylan's comment. "Yeah. I mean, I can sleep on the floor or whatever, but it sucks."
He would have been fine in a sleeping bag or whatever, but this is definitely better.
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When that's all said and done, he notes, "Guess I probably should've brought something for us to eat." He was kind of in a state when they left, though. Getting out of town was about as far into the future as he'd managed to think.
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