The Doctor and the Addict

The Doctor and the Addict By Gareth Vaughn Graden blinked at the brick of the Fergus mansion, turning the texture over and over in his mind, the roughness of the fired clay, the moss in the cracks. This was the best his vision had been in days, maybe weeks. He’d really cut back recently and he had better focus to show for it—as well as a nasty headache and a steadily worsening temper. He wasn’t really expecting Evander to appear at the door, but he was still disappointed when the butler returned. The man undoubtedly knew who he was but wouldn’t look at him. “I’m afraid Mr. Fergus is in Jewylle on Ilben proper, at the family home there. Would you like me to take down a message?” “No,” said Graden, and gritted his teeth when he saw the expression of relief on the man’s face. No one liked bothering with him anymore, not even someone who worked for Evander. Everyone must have moved past their affair if Evander was allowed back at the Fergus homes, even after his father and brother had died. No, Graden knew it was him specifically people did not like. He turned and trudged back down the gravel road to the cab he’d left waiting, fingering the money in his pocket as he walked. It wasn’t much, and he’d had to do labor he wasn’t used to in order to earn it—unloading crates, mainly. But cutting back on the crystal he snorted had enabled him at least to work a few hours, save up a little. He debated taking the cab back to the docks—what he’d planned on, should Evander have rejected him—or into downtown Jewylle, which would eat up most of his money. He decided to gamble on Evander’s sympathies. He paid up front, swallowing back his offense, and got back in, glared out the window. Back when he was still a respected member of the Fallswenne family, he would have never had to prove he had the money for a ride, could pay after the service was rendered. But drivers treated those dressed in the old, torn clothes Graden wore now in a completely different manner. He was poor—not to be trusted. By the time he’d reached the Fergus city home he was coughing, hard. The pain in his head swelled and he swore. He hadn’t had any sugardream magic crystal since the night before—normally he had a little in the morning to cut the agony of waking up again. He composed himself, walked up to the door, and rang the magically-enhanced bell. The brick of this building was pinker, smoother. Graden wanted to touch it but instead lingered, hands in his pockets, fingers resting on his steadily depleting money on one side, last packet of sugardream, one-third full, in the other. After long minutes he blinked, refocused his gaze, and tried again. Some bird was trilling in a nearby tree, the sound making the back of Graden’s head throb. Eventually the door opened. “What?” asked a man, shirtless and glaring. His pale chest was scarred, and he looked as hardened as some of the people Graden didn’t mess with down by the docks. Graden squinted at him, finding him somewhat familiar, unable to completely place him. As Graden stood there, staring, the man crossed his arms and glared, impatient. Graden kept waiting for Evander to appear, or a proper butler, tried to wrap his sluggish mind around just what someone like the man before him could be doing here, at the Fergus home, comfortable enough to go around without a shirt. Was Evander screwing him? That seemed the logical conclusion, but then the man seemed a bit too rough at the edges for Evander. “What, Fallswenne?” The man sounded downright irritated; Graden gaped at him. He couldn’t figure out how he might know the man. He wasn’t anyone Graden had slept with, that he recalled—he’d been with his own hand for months. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, Ben,” said a familiar voice, and then Evander appeared over the man’s shoulder, hands knotting the ties of a robe. Graden’s heart picked up, just a little, and he focused on Evander. The man looked good, like he had a year or two ago, before so much s**t had happened. “Yeah, nothing wrong with your police protection answering your door,” said Ben, whoever he was. “Can’t have you feeling unsafe in your own home.” “It’s only Graden. Let him in.” “You’re f*****g joking,” said Ben. Graden almost laughed at the thought that there was a time he would have winced at such language. Evander’s face didn’t flicker, either—so he was used to this man talking to him like this. “You seen him?” asked Ben. “I’m not here to cause trouble,” said Graden, although now that he spoke, now that he saw Evander with another man, he didn’t know why he was here anymore. The cab was waiting behind him. But the reality that Evander had moved on hadn’t yet settled in. Graden thought he still had a chance, particularly if Evander’s other option was someone like this Ben. Who might have just mentioned he was police. Graden didn’t want to acknowledge how long that took to sink in. He decided he wasn’t backing down now. “Let him in,” said Evander, crossing to wrench the door all the way open. His eyes caught the cab and he waved it away, leaving Graden without a way to escape. “I don’t want this happening on my doorstep where anyone can see.” Graden didn’t want to go inside, not when he felt like he was about to step into the beginnings of a quarrel, but he didn’t have much choice. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing here—he should have just gone back to the docks, had the rest of his sugardream crystal, saved his money. And now he had to stand here, awkwardly, in Evander’s foyer, while a half-dressed police officer shut the door behind him and eyed him suspiciously. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’ve made a mistake. I should go.” “Graden,” said Evander, and there was something in his eyes Graden could interpret as regret if he wanted to. “Stay a moment. There has to be some reason why you’re here.” He paused, frowned. “I do hope it’s not monetary in nature.” Graden fingered the packet of magic crystals in his pocket, very much regretting deciding to come here. There was nothing for him here. He and Evander were clearly over; he looked Ben up and down, trying not to twitch too much. “Speak,” said Ben, and something clicked in Graden’s mind. This was one of the people who’d bought him a meal a few weeks ago, questioned him for dirt on Evander. “You can’t trust him, Evander,” said Graden. He backed away from Ben, who glared. “He and a woman tracked me down. They were asking for secrets about you. I hope you aren’t trusting him. I hope you aren’t sleeping with him. You’re very likely in danger.” Ben glared at him but Evander put a hand to his head and sighed. “This is Benen Trelayne, an Assistant Detective, Graden. He and his superior, Lead Detective Lister, questioned you about my father’s death not long ago. There’s nothing to worry about—I’m cleared, the matter is closed, and Benen is taking good care of me.” “You’re sleeping with him,” said Graden before he could stop himself. “Don’t look so pissed he appreciates a good fuck.” “Ben,” said Evander. “If he thinks he can show up here and you’ve been waiting around to take him back to bed no problem, it’s about time he’s learned otherwise,” said Benen. “Evander’s got his own life. He’s found someone else to fuck.” “Ben,” hissed Evander. “This is not helpful.” “No, he’s right,” said Graden, disgust for himself welling up in his gut as he and Benen glared at each other. “I have no right to assume someone like you would wait around for a crystal sniffer. Even law enforcement is higher class than what I’ve become.” A silence fell, awkward and uncomfortable. Graden couldn’t look at Benen. He felt hollow, nauseated; all he wanted to do was slink away and have the rest of his magic crystal, now that he’d confirmed for himself he was alone. In some ways, Evander had felt like his last hope. They’d gotten thrown out of their families together, and now—now Graden was alone in being outcast. He wanted to slink away, stop humiliating himself in front of someone whose opinion he once cared about, at least a little. Really, it was unsurprising. He’d known forever he’d never been in love with Evander. But what they had had been the best he could have hoped for, and now Graden had lost it for good. He glanced toward the door. “Why did you come here?” asked Evander, quietly. “To see if I’d take you back? You don’t look high at the moment.” No, but Graden’s head, his stomach, were killing him, and his back and arms hurt. Sugardream, even at lower doses, had been good for ignoring the soreness that came from manual labor. And what he’d had the previous night was really starting to wear off. “I truly don’t know why I’m here,” said Graden, unable to keep the irritation from his voice. “I don’t know what I expected from you.” Evander winced. The possibility that he felt guilty hadn’t crossed Graden’s mind, but it did now. He just didn’t know what to do with it, and his mind was so tired, struggling so much, he couldn’t figure out how to make the information work for him, so he dropped it. “You look like you could use a decent meal.” “Ev,” said Benen sharply. Ev. Nobody called Evander that. Graden knew at that instant whatever Evander had with this detective, it was something more than what he’d ever had with Graden. “Even you fed him, Ben—or was that only for information on me?” Evander frowned at Benen, but Graden didn’t think he was worth the argument. “I don’t care to turn Graden away, not while he’s clean and in need.” Benen snorted. “No, I’ll be going,” said Graden. He wasn’t sure he could tolerate decent food on top of all this disappointment anyway. “Nonsense,” said Evander. “I promised I’d help if you got clean.” “And he isn’t clean,” said Benen. “You’ll never get rid of him if you start feeding him from your damned home.” “Not clean? He is standing there. I happen to know a person can barely see straight while on sugardream. The last time I saw Graden, he must have had a little right before he and I met because he could barely sit up.” “But he’s not clean, Ev. So he hasn’t snorted the s**t in a while—look at him, twitching. Got his hand in his pocket, keeps fingering something.” Benen turned to Graden. “If I arrested you, would I find something illegal in that pocket?” Graden immediately pulled his hands out of his pockets. He hadn’t meant to react that way, but the moment he did, he saw the look of sadness cross Evander’s face. “See?” asked Benen. “Fine, Ben. You don’t want me helping an old friend.” Evander sighed. “Would you like me to contact your family, Graden? If you’re trying to kick your habit, I suspect my sister could convince them to—” “You think he can haul his ass here but not to the Fallswenne manor?” asked Benen. “Look at him—you’re insulting him. If he wanted help from his parents, he’d ask. He just wants to use you, Ev.” “I should be leaving,” said Graden. “Yeah, you f*****g should. And don’t Ben me, Ev. I’ve seen s**t. I know he’s not clean ‘til he’s clean. If that offends you, Fallswenne—” “No,” said Graden. He wasn’t sure what could offend him anymore. “He’s right, Evander. I’m a problem still. Thanks for the offer. I should just…go. Leave you to your fucking.” He turned back to the door, prepared to see himself out, but Evander crossed to him, grabbed his hand. The touch was strange, distant. Graden stared at their hands, realizing with a flicker of despair that the sugardream crystals had done this to him, dulled his senses. That was why, even with better vision, everything seemed off. He looked from their hands to Evander’s face, pain in his head increasing. “Sorry about…everything,” said Evander. Graden nodded, fighting the feeling in his nose, but the trickle came anyway. He wrenched himself from Evander’s grasp and went for the door, bringing his other hand up to his face. He didn’t want Evander seeing him bleeding. It wasn’t until he’d made it to the street that he realized Evander followed. The man hailed a cab in his robe, spoke with the driver, and turned back to Graden. He noticed the bloody kerchief and his eyes turned sad. Graden had hoped one of his nosebleeds would have held off, but at least the cloth in front of his face kept him from having to say anything as Evander turned back. When he passed Graden, he put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed once. “My offer stands, Graden. If you get clean I’ll do what I can. Benen will get used to it.” Graden could only nod. When he reached the cab, he found Evander had paid for him.