Who: Marijuana, Tommy, Cam (NPC). Narrative, but open to Bret, Harvey, and Paul (NPC). What: Telling Tommy about the divorce. When: Monday evening. Where: Harvey's apartment. Warnings: Language, drug references and use.
Cam, from behind Marijuana's right shoulder, eyed his god apprehensively as Marijuana raised a shaky hand to knock on the door to Harvey's apartment. Marijuana wasn't throwing up as often, but the god had lost a dramatic amount of weight since Friday night, a fact which was hidden under two layers of t-shirts, a hoodie, and a leather jacket, which also served the purpose of keeping Marijuana warm whenever the cold sweats hit. And Marijuana's face wasn't deathly pale anymore, just a grey shade that didn't help to cover up the bags under his eyes, but, all in all, he didn't look like he'd just been chewed up and spat back out. No, he just felt like it, but his face was set in a blank mask that would allow him to save face in front of people like Bret and Milk. Thankfully, it was Tomy who answered the door and, when the young godling saw who Marijuana had brought with him, he didn't even stop to think about why his dad looked like crap and why Cam looked like he hadn't slept in three days - he hadn't, not really - Tommy just grinned and came forward to hug Cam tightly, the mortal laughing lightly and hugging him back. There was much babbling - I didn't know you were coming! Can you take a look at my accounting homework? You can meet Bret! Why do you look so tired? - before Marijuana cleared his throat lightly.
Cam snapped to attention and sheepishly slid back to take his place at Marijuana's right shoulder as the godling looked up at his dad with a light frown, taking in the slightly sunken cheeks, the grey skin, the bags under his eyes. "Dad... what...?" Marijuana pursed his lips. "I'll explain in a moment, kiddo." His eyes turned to Bret, then, strong, yes, but with a hint of need lying underneath. "I'd like to speak to my son alone, if you don't mind." The last four words stung Marijuana to have to say, but they were out and he knew that, if he was going to tell Tommy, he would have to be alone with him so he could show weakness. He couldn't do that in front of Bret, it just wouldn't be right. Tommy looked between the two with a contemplative look in his eyes before slipping away from Cam and Marijuana to lean up against Bret's side, kissing him lightly on the cheek and whispering into his ear. "It's okay. I'm in no danger. He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly." With a last smile, Tommy pulled away, glancing over at Marijuana, who was just watching them with a resigned look in his eyes, and when he glanced back at Bret, the mortal was already retreating to Harvey and Paul's bedroom.
Tommy fidgeted. Marijuana fidgeted. Cam remained still, eyes sweeping the apartment for threats before they settled back on Marijuana, seeing his hands shake slightly as he reached out, expecting Cam to know what he wanted. And Cam did; he shrugged the backpack off his shoulder and withdrew two tupperware containers filled with brownies, one with a clear lid, one with a green lid. "Here, kiddo, I made these for you and..." Marijuana waved his hand in the direction that Bret had disappeared in. "Everyone else. The ones with the green lid are for you, though, okay?" Tommy reached out to take them tentatively, nodding and watching his dad warily. Something was coming, something bad. Marijuana sighed. "Let's sit down, yeah?" Tommy ended up on the long couch and Marijuana in an arm chair across from him, Cam standing behind the chair, his eyes trained protectively on his boss.
Marijuana rubbed at his eyes. Tommy curled in on himself a bit to ward away whatever was coming, hugging the tupperware containers to his chest. "Tommy... you know that, sometimes, relationships end, right? I mean, two people can love each other deeply, but if they're not making each other happy, sometimes it's best if they end it, yeah? If they're just going around in circles and nothing works... it's best to end that period of their lives together in an attempt to retain some sort of relationship on the other side, once both people have recovered." Marijuana wasn't hopeful, though, that he and Heroin could go back to being brothers after everything they'd gained and lost in each other. Even just the thought of seeing Heroin again made his veins sing and his stomach churn. "It's no one's fault, but sometimes things just run their course." Tommy's lower lip trembled. Marijuana ducked his head slightly and reached to scratch at his arm before Cam gently reached down to guide Marijuana's hands back together and down into his lap. "Tommy, your- Heroin and I have divorced. It's no one's fault and we both still love you very, very much-" Although, had Heroin said anything to their son? Marijuana's lips pursed. "-and we still love each other-" Well, Marijuana doubted that; if Heroin loved him, he wouldn't have done this to him. "-we just can't be married anymore."
Tommy's eyes were slowly turning glassy and he curled in on himself even tighter. It took him several long minutes to respond and when he did, his voice was shaky, too childish. "It's because of me, isn't it? You guys fought because of me, just like Father and Papa did and-" Marijuana moved quickly, as quickly as he could without causing his stomach to rebel and ended up on the couch next to his son, gathering the godling in his arms and drawing him in close. "No, no, it wasn't because of you, kiddo." Tommy ended up sideways in Marijuana's lap, tupperware forgotten, his head tucked into the crook of his dad's neck as Marijuana ran his fingers lightly through the godling's hair. His hoodie was quickly becoming damp with Tommy's tears as Marijuana said, over and over again, that it wasn't Tommy's fault, that they both still loved him, that it just had to happen, that Marijuana wanted him as his son, loved him as his son, approved of him, everything that Tommy had needed to hear for many long months. Eventually, he ran out of things to say and repeated it all in Spanish, knowing that Tommy could understand the basic gist and, then, even though it broke Marijuana's heart to do so, he repeated everything in halting German. That Tommy didn't understand, but it was comforting to hear his Vater Heroin's- his Uncle Heroin's language.
Eventually, Tommy stopped crying and was able to actually think about what this meant. He glanced up at Cam, rubbing his cheeks. "I bet you guys are pretty happy, yeah?" Cam shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting between the two gods. "Wes is too busy working himself up into an overprotective frenzy to be happy. Matt and Bryn are already fighting over who gets to be first to-" Marijuana coughed, Cam fell silent. "And you?" Tommy asked carefully, watching as Cam's eyes darkened slightly. "I'm relieved that things can go back to normal now, but I dislike watching the bossman in pain. And..." Cam chose his words carefully. "Certain things could have been avoided if the relationship had never happened in the first place. I'm upset at the futility." Tommy's hand reached up to brush over the necklace around Marijuana's neck, a silver and emerald weed leaf, with a silver claddagh strung in the chain. Heroin's wedding ring had been added to Marijuana's memorial of what he'd lost.
Tommy sighed, sniffled, and fell silent, letting Marijuana continue to stroke through his hair as he calmed himself down, which took about half an hour. And, eventually, they drew away from each other; Marijuana wanted to go back to the Highway and curl up in bed and Tommy also wanted to curl up in bed, even though he knew he'd be curling up with three people. With hugs and murmured plans, father and son parted, both feeling drained, emptied, and horribly bereft. Tommy slipped into the kitchen to put the brownies in the fridge and wait a certain period of time; he didn't want them to see him with red eyes that betrayed that he'd been crying. They had seen enough of his childish weakness.
After another ten minutes, Tommy wrapped a brownie up in a napkin carefully, taking a bite as he wandered into the bedroom, smiling shakily at the three men who were taking such good care of him and sat down at the edge of the bed. "Dad brought brownies for everyone. The ones in the completely clear tub are for you guys, they're just... regular brownies." Tommy took another bite of his brownie, being very careful not to let a single crumb drop. His voice was clear of tears or sadness; he was bottling it up because he didn't want to be dramatic, didn't want them to think less of him because his life was a tornado of destruction and pain. "Oh, and I think I'm going to go stay with Dad on Saturday night. Vater Her-" Tommy corrected himself. "Uncle Heroin left, so I just want him to have family around." Tommy shifted closer to Bret and rested his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. He would cry more later, at that moment, he just wanted to finish his brownie and feel a slow high overtake him.