Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The dust looked like snow as the sun hit the small particles through the glass. She roughly tied the curtains together, allowing the fresh light to fill the room. Gabriel let out a groan. He was lying sprawled out on the couch, painkillers strewn around him. With a fuzzy memory after a long night (and an intense headache) he couldn’t recall how he managed to spill all the pills over the entire room, and kick down his sofa table.

Amélie moved over to the other window, and swiftly ripped the curtains apart from each other, which rewarded her a grunt from Gabriel.
“Can you stop doing that?” he mumbled, while turning away from the blistering light. His head was already aching enough.

There was no reply from Amélie, who opened the window with a soft click. Her shoes tapped harshly on the floor as she moved over to the kitchen bench with an out-dated coffee machine. The machine slowly turned to life, the sounds sending chills down Gabriels back. He had meant to throw it out, seeing how the sounds reminded him of unwanted things, but being addicted to coffee, he couldn’t throw it out before he found another one. Which was easier said than done, with the scarce amount of army pension he got.

“So you are just going to lie inside all day?” her voice was depleted of emotion, as per usual.

“Any problems?” his voice was coarse, and damn wasn’t he thirsty? His body was starting to function again after waking up, and a red signal was beeping in the back of his mind. When was his last meal? He couldn’t remember if it was yesterday, or the day before or the day before that again.

After returning home from the army, it was like all energy had left him. Even moving to the toilet seemed like a chore, and the painful migraines he had, which most of the time were caused by hangovers, made it only worse.

He didn’t notice her footsteps, before she was beside him and kicked away his legs. Gracefully, she sat down behind his knees, bending one leg over the other. He allowed a glance over at her, and saw the mug she was holding out towards him. Cautiously of spelling any of the contents, he mustered the energy to sit up and accept the cup. They sat in silence, her with striped skirt and a marvellous white shirt, him with baggy jeans and a hoodie dragged over his face. It was funny actually, to look at the two of them, and see how they had handled things after returning home.

Amélie accepted help from an acquaintance, though she had shown much resistance at the beginning. She had managed to get her life (in others eyes) straight. Mostly because she actually managed to get back out into work, and landed a job as a translator. She was better than before, yet at the same time she would never be the same. He could remember how she had been before; all smiles, holding her husbands hand. Now she always had that guarded look over her face, no, over her entire body. The way she moved and always searched with her eyes for escape routes and vantage points. The war had really eaten her up and spit her out.

Meanwhile Gabriel had become the tragic example of a veteran. He huffed out a laugh. Living on alcohol and self-hate, that was how he did things now. It annoyed him to se Amélie so proper, sitting there like a fucking example of the American dream.
His eyes followed her strong legs, as she jumped up from the sofa. She hadn’t finished her coffee, and it seemed like that wasn’t a part of her plan.

“Your refrigerator is empty. We are going out to buy food, get ready.”

She was already out the door. He plopped down on the couch again, groaning. This was the reason he hated being with others. Annoying as hell.
The store was peaceful. There were no annoying families with hella lot of kids, and no foul-mouthed old men, shouting like they owned the entire place. But even though it was calm, the lights… They made Gabriel feel like someone was banging his head with a hammer, while screaming into his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was migraines or alcohol anymore.

Amélie was strolling in front of him, with her (ridiculously) high heels, and putting things in their cart. He had no idea what she was buying, but he didn’t say anything. Usually when they went out like this, Amélie would pay for his food, for a reason he couldn’t comprehend, and pick out a lot of stuff that he wasn’t sure how she knew he liked. Once she had picked out something really nasty looking; he had dissed it, but when he woke up at 3am, feeling hungry as a wolf, it had been almost too delicious. He didn’t admit that it had quickly become his favourite meal, but she continued to buy it, seemingly happy every time she realized that it had mysteriously vanished from his refrigerator.

Putting his weight on the cart, he almost seemed young again, like a child out with his mother shopping. After returning home, everyone had said that going out was important, that it was necessary for a healthy mind. The problem was that venturing out made his bones feel like lead and his mind an empty box full of feelings of loathing. It wasn’t that bad now though; he only wanted to throw up and scream because of his head.

A pair of fingers snapped in front of him, waking him up from his thoughts.

“Can you go get milk?” Amélie asked, a subtle hint of what he believed to be annoyance passing over her features.

With a small roger that, he parted from her and made his way downwards the aisles. His hands were buried deep down into his pockets, the warmth reminding him of his couch and blanket at home. He couldn’t wait to lie down into it, and not care for the rest of the day.

Just as he passed one of the aisles filled with biscuits, a man walked down the opposite way. He realized too late, and with a loud thud, crashed right into the other man. Gabriel almost fell face flat down, but the stranger managed to grip him by the shoulders and haul him up to balance. They stood there for a few seconds, panting, before Gabriel got back to his senses. With a rough pull, he managed to get away from the stranger and distance himself. Unconsciously he fell into defensive stance with his feet, and felt a small blare of anger wake up.

“Maybe watch where you are going next time?” Gabriel spit out, his voice full of venom. He was straightening his hoodie, before he let his glance go over to the other man. Which wasn’t smart at all, since he was sure that he looked more non-threatening than ever.

The man was wearing a pair of pilot sunglasses, his jaw sharp and God those lips. Gabriel couldn’t help that his eyes searched over the other man, from his shorts to the muscular arms sticking out from a t-shirt (which did nothing to hide his good form) and blonde hair. He looked like sex on legs, no, he was the definition of being sex on legs. A small look of annoyance was clear on the other mans face, before he straightened up.

“Right back to you,” the other man answered bitterly as he pushed past Gabriel with an air of anger. The answer confused Gabriel, before he realized what he had said to the man when they bumped into each other.

Before he would have tried to stop the other, to try to flirt with him in hope to get into his pants, to be excused of his idiot behaviour, but that wasn’t now. He wasn’t the same. And no way in hell did he have a chance with someone who looked like they were modelling for Calvin Klein. With a small reply, lying on his tongue, he turned around and continued towards the milk. Suddenly he was feeling a lot worse than he had before.

When they got back to his place, he plumped down onto the couch with no comment. Amélie silently put the items from her shopping into his refrigerator, before she made her way over to her purse and picked it up.
She halted before the door, as she always did. He knew what she was going to say.

“I am going to the support group for veterans I have been telling you about, tomorrow.”

He closed his eyes as he heard her close the door and leave. Usually she would ask him if he wanted to join. Which was before he had thrown a beer bottle after her head and cursed that damn group she always talked about. That was the only time he had seen more than that blank look on her face.

He didn’t need help. He could get through this on his own. This was just a phase. No one could help him. Not even himself.

He was leaned over the toilet as he threw up all the alcohol he had drunk. His eyes were stinging with tears as he clutched the toilet, trying to focus on not passing out. The image of the refrigerator full of food he hadn’t touched were flashing in his mind, reminding him on the hunger that had started to burn in the bottom of his stomach.
Sitting still like a mountain, he waited for the nausea to pass. When finally, better he got up, flushing his mouth in the sink and allowed himself a small look in the mirror.

He couldn’t recognize himself. It was pathetic. His face were starting to lose fat. He was getting thinner, and more unhealthy looking. His fists were turning white as he clenched the wash, small hiccups leaving his throat. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just get up and fix his damn life?

It is because of what you did, a small voice sounded in his head. Wet trails were falling from his eyes.

No. He couldn’t think like this now. What the hell was he doing? He was no different than others. He could do everything other could, if he just set his mind to it, and stopped pushing everyone away. Jesse hadn’t called him in two months, Sombra hadn’t knocked on the door with her smile of sunshine for, hell, he couldn’t remember how much time had passed. The diffuse memories of shouting at them for annoying him, when he was clearly drunk, still hurt a lot. But he didn’t manage to send them an apology on the phone.

The phone.

He needed to change. Hastily grasping after the phone in his pocket, he pulled it out and unlocked it. 02:24. Scrolling through his contacts, he found the one he was searching for. A small spider emoji decorated the side of her name, not in disrespect, but due to her love for the animal.

Clicking on the letters was difficult. It was like they were swimming around, and he tried to write as coherent as possible.

Gabriel: ill joink 2morrow.

It didn’t take long for Amélie to reply. He grunted when his phone clinged.

Amélie: 4 p.m, I’ll be at your place.

He huffed out a laugh as he read her message. Amélie never wrote more than necessary in their few conversations over phone, which kind of suited him. There was no surprise in Amélie. Not anymore.