Who: Mila and Aaron When: Tuesday, early afternoon, January 2 Where: Seaview Status: complete
The new year had been fun, and a much needed change of pace for Mila. As much as she knew she needed to recover and get acclimated to things again, she had been starting to feel a bit restless, being stuck inside all day. Her parents were reluctant to let her out of their sight, but ultimately Mila was an adult, and she didn’t want to ring in the new year sitting on her childhood bed, trying to catch sight of the fireworks at the marina.
She also didn’t want to be in a crowd, not entirely comfortable with the thought of being surrounded by people, even if she knew most of them. Mila understood what she had done, and what a lot of people still thought, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for the scrutiny yet. So Aaron had driven her to the park, where they parked and had a pretty great view of the fireworks above the treeline. Given everything that had happened, Mila knew how lucky she was to be able to kiss him at midnight, and to feel determined that this year would be ten times better than the end of the last.
They spent a lot of New Year’s Day together, although he hadn’t spent the night with her, as her parents had wanted her for themselves for a bit. Mila hadn’t slept very well, waking up twice in the night in a panic, sure she was seeing shadows in the corners and hearing things in the hall. The bad feelings had lingered long after she’d woken up and Mila had texted Aaron, wanting to wish him a good morning and maybe hope he would want to come by. She knew he would need to go back to work soon, but she was still feeling clingy, especially with Adrian being… wherever he was.
Mila gave it some time before she texted him again. The last thing she wanted to do was sound desperate or something, but he had usually been pretty good at responding when she texted or called. The minutes that ticked by started to feel like hours and when he didn’t pick up when she called, Mila started to worry. What if something had happened to him? He was still living with Roxy and Caden as far as she knew, and for Mila, Seaview was far too close to the tunnel. She waited a little longer before horrible, morbid thoughts crept into her mind. He had gone to the tunnel. Or whatever had taken Mila had come for Aaron too.
Later she would wonder why she didn’t simply text Roxy, but for now, her mind was full of Aaron, and all the horrible things that could be happening to him. Mila nearly melted down into a full blown panic attack, but instead she grabbed her coat and the keys to her mother’s car. Her parents were at the grocery store, so Mila left them a note. If she called or texted, they would freak out and come home to keep her from going anywhere. But if Aaron needed her, she wasn’t going to sit around and wait.
As she drove to Seaview Mila could feel the sick knot tightening in her stomach. The closer she got, the worse it felt until Mila was sure she would get sick. She didn’t want to be there. Just seeing the treeline behind the small community made her want to cry. Maybe the tunnel had Aaron and it was using him to lure her back. Mila tried to breathe, clutching the steering wheel with her damp palms. As she came upon Roxy and Caden’s house, she saw Aaron’s truck, but not the other cars. Maybe they were working. God, what if she walked inside and Aaron was on the floor, bleeding from his gut?
She hit the brakes a little too hard, and fumbled to put the car into park. Closing her eyes, Mila tried to wipe clean all of the bloody images from her mind. She just wouldn’t look at the woods, that was all. Mila would keep Aaron her focus. He might need her. Still shaking, she got out of the car and pulled her coat tightly around her, moving with quick, purposeful steps up the stairs and to the door. She knocked and then instinctively reached for the knob, finding it locked.
“Shit,” she whispered before knocking again. Without thinking she hit the doorbell. If Aaron didn’t answer, she would just break one of the windows to climb in. Maybe she would call 911. Something was wrong, she just knew it.
Aaron had had a good holiday with Mila. It made him kind of glad to be hurt, because his brothers didn’t press him to work at the bar this year. He just wanted to spend it with Mila, so that’s what he got to do. It was nice, kissing at midnight, and then hanging out a lot of the next day. Something had been itching at the back of his mind the whole time though -- just a small restless sort of feeling, like something was missing. He hadn’t even identified what it was for himself until he’d gotten home the afternoon of the first, and retreated to his room.
That little orange pill bottle was just what he needed, with a few swigs of a bottle of rum he’d picked up to wash it down. His pain hadn’t been too bad, but his nerves felt settled within minutes, and Aaron had just kept going from there. He drank and popped a fresh Oxy every few hours -- he would’ve sworn he was keeping good track of them, but who actually knew -- and he slept and slept and forgot to plug his phone in. And when he woke up for another drink and another couple of pills, he still didn’t remember to plug the useless brick in.
Aaron had made his stumbly way to the living room an hour or so before, glad to have the place to himself even if it wasn’t his place. He sprawled on the couch with the TV on, nodding off slightly as he watched, feeling nicely high and numb. The knocking pulled him out of his light doze, and the doorbell told him it was more than just his imagination. He got up with some groaning effort, not even thinking about how he was still just in his boxers, and shuffled to the door. Had he ordered food? He couldn’t remember. Aaron’s short curly hair was a mess and his eyes were bleary and still half-closed as he opened the door on Mila, a bandage taped haphazardly over the healing wound in his chest and nothing but unblemished skin and happy trail fuzz on his abdomen. He blinked a couple of times before registering that it was Mila standing there, then grinned crookedly. “Hey babe,” he mumbled.
Mila felt her heart leap into her throat when the door opened and the brief sense of relief she felt was replaced by confusion, and then concern when she saw the state Aaron was in. He was clad only in his boxers, his hair rumpled. It was like he'd just woken up, but his eyes were... well, sleepy, but also kind of glazed over and red-rimmed. The lack of bandage on his abdomen didn't register just yet because she was focused on his well being more than anything else. Mila shivered and she knew that it wasn't safe for Aaron to stand there in the cold half-naked. He could get sick. So she stepped inside quickly, brushing past Aaron so she could shut the door and cut the chill. But she didn't move any further into the tiny house. Instead, she looked over to see the television on. Mila stared at it for a moment before her gaze drifted back to Aaron. "I... texted… and called. You didn't answer so I started to--" Panic. "--worry. Are you okay?"
It was pretty cold out there, Aaron could feel it biting at his torso and legs in a very distant sort of way, so he didn’t protest Mila coming inside at all. He closed the door behind her, flipping the lock and then unlocking it again without even being sure why. Some part of his brain knew it wasn’t a great thing that Mila was there right then -- he was high and still kind of drunk and he wasn’t even dressed and that was a thing he should be because they weren’t having sex again yet -- but it was difficult to care at the moment. It took a couple of extra seconds for her words to make sense and sink in, and then Aaron blew some air out through his lips and rubbed a hand over his messy hair. He needed a cut. “Shit, sorry,” he murmured, the words coming slower than usual. “Phone musta died, and I just woke up ...” He’d been up for a while, but she didn’t need to know that. “Lemme see ...” Aaron started to meander back toward his bedroom to find his phone.
Mila watched Aaron lock and then unlock the door. His words were a bit slurred and she realized she could smell what she assumed was alcohol on his breath as he spoke. Her feet felt heavy, or she might have followed him down the hall. But she was starting to feel silly for worrying so much. He was... well, physically fine, it looked like. She wasn't really sure about anything else. Was he drunk? Maybe hungover, which would explain why his eyes so red and glassy. Mila felt a sliver of guilt and she drew her arms in a bit, wishing she could sink down into her coat. "Aaron," she said, before he got too far down the hall. "I don't care about the phone. Are you okay?" He hadn't answered her yet and she wasn't entirely sure what she was dealing with here.
Aaron turned and looked back at her, swaying a bit until his hip hit the side of the couch. He didn’t seem to notice, but it helped with his balance, so he wasn’t going to complain. She’d already asked him that, hadn’t she? Damn, his brain felt slow, but everything still felt good. That was the state he kept trying to stay in ... less so now that Mila was back home, but when he couldn’t be with her, he didn’t want to be miserable, did he? “Oh, uh ... yeah,” he said, giving another one of those lazy smiles. “A little tired, but m’fine. M’good.” He shuffled back toward where Mila was still standing, still with her coat on like she wasn’t staying long. Aaron realized dimly that they were in Seaview and that was where she didn’t want to be, and his brow furrowed a bit. “Are you?” he asked, probably too late. “D’you need me? That why you were callin’?”
Mila couldn’t help but watch everything he did. The way he swayed, his delayed responses and slurred speech. He was definitely drunk. Or... high? She couldn’t smell pot though, so maybe not. Although pot wasn’t the only way to get high, so what did she know. Mila wasn’t going to be upset that he had let his phone die. He wasn’t there to be at her beck and call. If she needed reassurance, she had her parents. And Mila knew Aaron was still healing so maybe he had needed the rest. But it was less that she was having a bad moment, and more that she was worried about him. So much so that she drove to the very place she had never wanted to see again. And seeing him like this made her nervous. Mila studied him silently for a moment. “Are you drunk?” she asked finally, her voice quiet.
He wasn’t too far gone to notice that she didn’t answer his questions either, but Aaron didn’t have his wits about him enough to call her out on it. The way she asked him if he was drunk reminded him so much of his mother talking to Joseph, it was uncomfortable for a moment. Only she’d always had more fear in her voice, and after a while she’d stopped asking. Everyone could always tell, it was obvious. Mila hadn’t seen him all fucked up on rum and Oxy before though, so of course she had to ask. “Mm, lil bit,” he admitted, staring back at her with his unfocused and bloodshot eyes. Then he arched his brows at her. “You wanna drink? Still got plenty.” He gestured vaguely toward the coffee table where the half-full bottle of rum was, along with his pill bottle. He was going to run out of the prescription soon, so why not enjoy it while it lasted? Fuck.
Her brows rose briefly when he admitted that he was drunk, and she opted not to point out that it was the middle of the afternoon. It stung in a weirdly selfish way, that he would want to stay here at Caden’s and drink than... what, be with her? She had already told herself that she wasn’t his responsibility and he needed his space to rest and get better. She hadn’t expected this though. Mila didn’t even know how to answer his question, because of course she didn’t want a drink. She had no desire for one, and she knew it would fuck with the meds she was on at the moment anyway. Mila had started to tell him just that when she looked to the coffee table where he had gestured. Liquor and a prescription pill bottle. Mila stared at both for only a second or two before realization dawned on her. “Aaron,” she began, eyes wide as they found his again. “Are you drinking with your pain medication?” That’s what this was. He was high on... whatever it was they’d given him for his wounds. Before she could stop herself she looked down at his wounds. It hurt to look at them. Or rather... one did. His chest wound was covered. The abdomen though. No bandage. No wound. No stitches or even a scar. Confusion flooded her and Mila tried to remember. She had done it twice. That’s what they told her. She’d stabbed him twice. Chest. Gut. He’d had surgery. But there was nothing there. It didn’t make any sense. He would still have a healing wound there. “What’s going on?” Mila breathed. “What is all of this?”
Aaron’s first impulse was to lie, because Caden had already bitched at him for mixing his pain meds with liquor, and the bottle he’d had in his room had disappeared, so he didn’t want to upset Mila with it too. She was already looking upset though. He didn’t connect her final two questions to the absence of a wound on his belly, his slowed brain was still focused on the intoxicants. “I mean ... just a lil,” he admitted, scratching at the back of his neck. Nevermind that he’d been doing it for a while now. It had taken a dip when Mila returned, but it always felt so good, it was hard to give up completely. “Helps me sleep.” Not that he needed to sleep in the middle of the day, but whatever. “All’a what?” Aaron asked belatedly, because that didn’t make much sense to him. It wasn’t a big deal, he’d stayed much more fucked up while she’d been gone.
Her heart was beating harder in her chest now, almost uncomfortably so. Her hands felt sweaty and for the briefest moment, she wondered if this was a dream. But there wasn't really any fear lacing the anxiety. Just extreme guilt, because he wouldn't have been given pain medication if she hadn't tried to kill him. She had, right? Because even if she couldn't really remember doing it, she had been told she'd stabbed Aaron twice. Twice, but there was only evidence of one wound. It was confusing, mixed in with the worry and knowledge that he was mixing his meds and alcohol and he was staring at her with those glassy eyes, his brain too slow to keep up with her.
She didn't buy that it helped him sleep. Well, maybe it did, but there were over the counter drugs for that. Stuff he didn't need to take with rum. Mila wasn't sure what to do, or what to say. Just being there was difficult, knowing what was beyond the trees, knowing her own home was just down the way a bit and all she wanted to do was turn and run, maybe get into her mom's car and drive... just drive until she was leaving Point Pleasant, and then Maine. Drive until she hit the ocean on the other side of the country. Mila's gaze ticked to the pill bottle, and she wondered how many more he had left. Did he have other bottles somewhere? Swallowing hard, she turned her attention back to his face. "They told me... you had been stabbed in the stomach. But there's nothing there," she said, pulling one hand out of her coat pocket to motion to his abdomen. "You don't even have a scar."
Aaron looked blank for a second, then glanced down at himself. Oh right, no shirt. And oh right, no gut wound. The one that Adrian had put his knee into when he’d tackled Aaron in the middle of the night in this very house, accusing him of killing Mila. No wonder he wanted to drink, holy shit. “Oh yeah,” he murmured, giving a misplaced little giggle as he rubbed his fingers over the unmarred skin on his belly. He’d sort of forgotten that Mila didn’t know that one was gone, like they’d already talked about it, but they hadn’t. She hadn’t wanted to fool around or anything since she came back and it was winter, so of course she hadn’t seen him shirtless yet. Aaron didn’t have the functioning brain cells to lie about it. “The guy, the man who got you back ... he healed it,” Aaron told her, like that was perfectly reasonable. “T’prove he could do it, I guess. But only one, that’s all I got for free.”
The guy who got her back. The guy who healed Aaron. Mila felt her chest tightening, but she didn't want to panic, not when Aaron was like this. Still, she was feeling distressed again as she stared at his stomach. He said it like it was nothing, like they were talking about the fucking weather or something. Mila would have chalked all of this up to Aaron being high, but the evidence was right there on his gut. The wound was gone completely. Someone had healed him, and she couldn't imagine anyone human could do that. She had so many questions, and she was afraid she wouldn't be able to ask them all without her voice breaking. But as much as she hated Aaron like this, he was being truthful, and maybe that was because of the drugs and alcohol. So if she was going to get some answers, now was the time. "What guy? Who was he? How did he get me back, Aaron?" Adrian had found her. But how? Mila had asked herself that question before, but had always been too tired, or too fearful, to think about it too deeply.
That was a lot of questions that Aaron didn’t have answers to. He’d wondered all of the same things, of course, but wondering didn’t get anybody anywhere. The man had called himself Westin, but he was clearly not just a man. Feeling tired and a little woozy, Aaron leaned his shoulder against the wall, blinking slow and bleary at Mila. “I dunno,” he murmured. “Any of it, I dunno. He was jus’ ... there, in my room. Sayin’ a bunch of stuff ... I dunno who-what he was. But he said he could get you back, and he did it.” Aaron grinned crookedly, and whispered another ‘he did it,’ almost to himself. He reached out to touch Mila’s hair with a dull sort of wonder in his eyes. Whatever he’d traded to Westin, whatever favor he was going to owe down the line, it had been worth it.
Mila was still confused, but there was an icy sort of shock to all of it. A man had promised to get Mila back... and he had healed one of Aaron's wounds to prove his ability to do it. Only one. Because that one had been free apparently. What would have been the cost of the other? Was there a cost to Mila being pulled from that tunnel? She only remembered Adrian being there, waiting for her. But if the man had been Adrian, Aaron would have known. Did Adrian somehow know too? Her head was starting to throb from the unknown, and the fear that came with it. She frowned when he touched her hair and she knew she couldn't talk to him when he was like this. He might not even remember she had come by, when he was finally sober again. And she didn't like that vacant look in his eye, or the smile on his face, because it all came from a place of... intoxication.
Deep down, Mila knew she should stay. She should get him into bed and call Gavin or Caden to come help, because she didn't know what to do. But being in Seaview was bad enough, her chest hurt and it felt like every healing wound on her own body was starting to burn from the memory of just being near those woods. Licking her lips, Mila cleared her throat and forced a very faint, painful smile. "Yeah, he did it. I'm here. Can you... you should go put on some pants, okay? It's cold." If he listened to her, and she thought he would, then she was going to take that pill bottle, and she was going to leave. Maybe she would throw the bottle into the woods, or she would take home and flush it. She didn't know. But if he took anymore, she didn't know that it wouldn't kill him.
Aaron knew somewhere that Mila didn’t look happy at all, even though she should. She was home and Aaron had helped save her ... though Adrian seemed to have done more. Aaron didn’t know what he’d had to do to get Mila back too, but they’d both gotten what they wanted. They’d saved her from hell. Whether it was an angel or a demon or some other kind of thing that had made it happen, Aaron didn’t know and didn’t care at the moment. The end result was the same. He perked up a little when she mentioned pants -- he was perfectly comfortable in his boxers, there was a nice blanket on the couch and everything, but it was cold outside, and maybe Mila wanted to take him somewhere. Going out while he was super high always felt like an adventure, even if it was just to the store. Always obedient, Aaron pushed off of the wall and started a weaving path toward the short hall that led to his bedroom. “‘Kay ... we goin’ somewhere?” he asked over his shoulder.
"Maybe," Mila said, even though they weren't. He might be upset or angry with her, but right now she didn't care. Her emotions were a mess and she still felt like she might get sick. But as soon as Aaron disappeared into the guest room, Mila walked with quick, purposeful steps to the coffee table. She grabbed the pill bottle and shoved it into her coat pocket. After a very brief moment of debate, she grabbed the rum too, putting the cap back on and carrying it to the door. Mila knew she ought to stay and talk to him about this, but what good would it do while he was drunk? And high? He wouldn't think or really digest anything she was saying. But she didn't want him to do this to himself. It was her fault. She knew that much, and again, she wondered if this was a dream. Or maybe this wasn't real, and this was the plan all along. Destroy Aaron, bring her back to Seaview. It was getting harder to breathe, but she managed to slip out of the house quietly before walking quickly and with purpose to the car. She would toss the pills somewhere. And the rum. Dump it out maybe, first. Even if he was upset with her about it, at least he wouldn't be able to put that shit into his body anymore today.
He was as slow putting clothes on as he was with everything else, stumbling a bit trying to get his pants on, and then pulling on a shirt for good measure. It ended up backwards, but Aaron didn’t even notice. He completely forgot about socks, shuffling back out into the living room, only to find it empty. Aaron looked around stupidly for a moment, like Mila had just chosen to stand somewhere else, but she wasn’t there at all. He was about to turn and check the bathroom when he heard a car pulling out of the driveway and hastily leaving. Aaron pushed the curtains aside and caught a glimpse of the back of Mila’s mom’s car. His truck was the only thing in the driveway now. Mila was gone. Oh. The instant sadness that struck him went to war with the feel-good drugs in his system and Aaron just stood there for a while, unsure of what to do. He couldn't even try to text her, he hadn’t even plugged his phone in.
Getting the sense that he was going to be really upset about all this later, Aaron moved to the couch like a zombie and sat down again. It wasn’t until he was there that he saw the rum and his pills were gone. Oh. Mila had taken them and run, hadn’t even said goodbye, hadn’t said she loved him. Aaron suddenly wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. A voice in the back of his mind that sounded like his dad muttered that he shouldn’t be surprised, he was a fuckup and this was what fuckups did -- they fucked up. Over and over. Almost as an act of self-preservation, Aaron’s brain re-focused on the television and let everything else fall quiet, blanketed under rum and pills. He might as well bask in the numbness while he could.