InsaneJournal

Eliot had his moods and his ways and often how he acted was dictated by his mood. With his own personal downswing in full effect, he was being more vibrant and social on the Tumbleweed network. He combated his own personal crisis' with an insistence of attention and social interaction. Those, however, that were close to him likely knew better. There was no hiding from Kylo that Eliot was feeling morose regardless of the flashy smiles and introductions to the new arrivals. And Eliot suspected Q and Petunia knew the truth just as much; though they didn't have a personal tap into Eliot's moods the way he allowed Kylo to have.

And, in general, Eliot was fairly respectful of privacy when the denizens of the cottage were in their own rooms. He invaded their personal space largely when they were in the shared living space. And, in regards to Petunia, Eliot wouldn't dare enter her room without permission.

Quentin?

That was a different story all together and had all to do with the relationship he had established with Quentin in his earliest days at Brakebills. Thus, it really shouldn't have been much of a surprise when Eliot pushed open Quentin's bedroom door further with his shoulder and stepped right on in. "Q," he said as way of greeting and announcement of his intent to take up Quentin's time. Then he strolled across to Quentin's bed and flopped down gracefully on top of the comforter. He folded his hands over his stomach and crossed his ankles, resting one on top of the other, and his eyes glanced up to the ceiling.

"I sealed off Margo's room," he then said, not waiting for Quentin to protest. "And I moved what was left of Pansy's things to the attic," which had been beyond fascinating, as Eliot hadn't really ever gone into the attic before. He paused a beat.

"Neal is gone now too," he then added, which clearly was where this problem lied. Eliot was panicking. Their people were dropping off like flies and Eliot didn't function well without his support system. Neal hadn't ever been part of the support system but he was on their outskirts and with it being on the heels of Margo's departure, it just felt like another domino falling.

Quentin didn’t really put on a show the way that Eliot did. He just sulked and laid around on the house and basically tried to pretend that he was going to do something good. He rarely did. He hadn’t even bothered attempting to find a job at this point. What was the use? What was the point? There was nothing.

At the moment, he was mostly sitting on his bed, not at all surprisingly (if you knew Quentin anyway) reading the Fillory books. He knew now that most of this was lies, but some of it was true. All the good feelings were a lie, though. Nothing about Fillory was as cheerful and wonderful as he’d first thought it would be. But the books still sparked something in him that was able to keep most of the bad feelings at bay. Not all, but most.

Eliot’s arrival was only somewhat of a surprise as Eliot did have a habit of popping into places. He looked over at him quietly for a moment before putting the book down and off to the side. He didn’t respond to any of the things that Eliot said right away, just quietly taking them in. He was aware that everyone was leaving and that was troubling, but so was everything with Alice. Basically, he hated everything, but that wasn’t actually much different from the usual, so…

“Guess that means more alcohol for us.” Which was probably not the thing he was supposed to say, but...there it was. “Sorry.”

Eliot turned his head just enough to watch Quentin shut the books. He knew this meant that he had at least a fraction of Quentin's attention. He didn't smile with the statement but turned his head again so he could look up at the ceiling. "We've never had to worry about not having enough," he countered, though he knew that hadn't been the intent of Q's statement. Q was trying to make a positive out of a negative.

He was silent for a few moments and he didn't seem to mind that the silence was lingering. When he did speak, it was quieter, as though he didn't like saying it.

"I need to say this and then we won't talk about it again, alright?" He said without gazing over Quentin. Instead, his hands gripped against themselves tighter.

Quentin looked at Eliot for a moment, not sure what that meant. He wasn’t even looking at him, which probably meant that it was a serious. He wasn’t sure what that meant. But he put his book off to the side and pulled his legs up against his chest.

“Okay. So what is it that you’re going to say and then we’re never talking about again?”

His gaze remained on the ceiling though he was aware of Q's movements. He was folding in on himself. That wasn't uncommon; especially when Q's moods were less than stellar. He needed to put more of an effort into trying to turn that around but now wasn't the time. He wouldn't be able to really pull it off now even if he tried. His heart was too heavy.

"I've been sober since space," he said with the same quiet tone. He didn't feel a need to elaborate much. Quentin would understand that he didn't mean in reference to alcohol. Eliot was by all definitions an alcoholic but he functioned the majority of the time. This reference was to his other vices, of which Quentin knew too well. "Had to go cold turkey between Fillory and the spaceship," he then added.

Quentin was quiet at that. He knew that Eliot hadn’t stopped drinking. That would have been a completely different sort of surprising. Still, it would probably do them all good to cut back on how much they drank. Not that Quentin had any plans to stop drinking. He knew he needed to get out of this long-spanning funk he was in, but he hadn’t found his way out. He hadn’t found a way to pull himself out, but reading the Fillory books was a start if anyone knew him.

“Oh.” It wasn’t the most intelligent thing to respond with, but it did make sense of a lot of things he hadn’t really put together because he’d been in a bit of a haze since his arrival. He’d started to come out and Pansy had been slowly coaxing him out, but she wasn’t really here to sneer at his lack of showering or the fact that he hadn’t left his bed, so...no one really cared. They probably did, but...they had their own stuff to deal with, so…

“So you’re...are you not planning to be...you know?” A pause as he tried to sort out his words. “Are you going to keep being...sober?”

"I want to be," he replied, with a level of honesty that was very rarely demonstrated to others. Kylo was given honesty even if Eliot did not wish to do so. But the others? That was always on Eliot's terms. In regards to Quentin, well, he was willing to be honest with him more than most others. "I'm..."

He was afraid of what would happen if he wasn't. He'd been circling the drain before entering Fillory and his addictions had nearly cost them all their lives once in Fillory. Eliot was aware enough to recognize how good his life was now, here, in Texas. And Kylo hadn't ever seen that side of Eliot.

He didn't want Kylo to ever see it.

"I think I'm better here," he then said before breathing in a deep breath. "But that doesn't mean I didn't want it." Margo's disappearance had made him ache for an escape that was longer lasting than alcohol. He'd tossed himself, instead, into the crazed notion of trying to find a way to travel outside of this realm to find Margo. Kylo had talked sense into him and had held him close; but that didn't mean that he'd forgotten how strong the desire had been for something that wasn't capable of being provided through drink or protective arms.

Quentin nodded at Eliot’s words, just letting them sit there for a moment. He did seem to be doing better. Not that Quentin had really thought about it before. He obviously was happier based off how he was with Kylo. That still confused him. Not that it really mattered. He wasn’t the one in the relationship. He’d set out to keep an eye on Kylo and make sure he didn’t do anything to hurt Eliot, but he’d sort of forgotten about it after a while and now he wasn’t sure he had the energy for it.

He was probably too self-centered for it anyway. Right now.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep you from doing something stupid.” Which probably meant he had to stop wallowing so much and living in a mostly drunken haze. Probably.

Eliot thought about that for a moment. He naturally assumed that the 'we' was in reference to Quentin and the other members of the Cottage. And that made his expression go cold for a moment. It wasn't that he wanted to keep it in the dark from Kylo or Petunia. It was simply that he wanted to keep being better and for it to not necessarily even need to be brought up. Petunia probably would be supportive. She almost always was. And if she knew, well, that was almost a guarantee that if he fell off the wagon; she'd be there with disappointed eyes to try to get him back up.

And, as for Kylo, well...Eliot intended to tell him about that part of his past one day. He just didn't know when he wanted that day to be. He sucked in a deep breath, his chest rising, as he thought on this.

"I've not told the others," he informed Quentin, eyes still on the ceiling. "They don't know it was an issue."

He paused.

"I've not told Ky about Mike. Or..."

He didn't finish his sentence aloud. He'd never admitted to Quentin just what his hopes had been. And he wasn't sure he actually wanted too. He exhaled and shut his eyes. "I need to make sure I don't do something stupid," he said instead. Putting the weight all on Quentin, to keep him from going off the path, wasn't right. Eliot needed to be accountable for himself.

We had been an indication of him and Eliot, but he could see how it might have been seen as something spread out to the whole cottage. “You’re probably going to have to tell him about it eventually. I mean, maybe not, but maybe.” He wouldn’t push it, though. He’d focus on the issue at hand...which was not letting Eliot fall back into his habit of doing drugs. That was more important than pretending he knew anything about how to be in a relationship.

“I’m sure the other two will be there if you ever want to tell them, though. I can’t see why they wouldn’t be.” Especially Petunia. She was scary like that. He was pretty sure she’d scare anyone into behaving all the time forever.

"I will," Eliot responded, almost immediately, as though it were fresh on his mind. And it was true. Eliot did intend to tell Kylo. At some point. But there had to be the right time. Otherwise it would feel as though it had come out of nowhere.

And, if Eliot were honest, he didn't necessarily look forward to the idea of Kylo thinking less of him. He didn't know if Kylo would but he didn't like the idea all the same. He wanted it to be firmly part of his past and hoped it would be.

"I know they would. I just hope it won't be an issue," he sighed, moving his hands up to rub at his face for a moment. Then he shifted, pushing himself up with his elbows so his back was against Quentin's headboard. "I'll let you get back to Fillory."

There was a moment where he made to reply, but he just casually moved so their shoulders touched. “Well, I’ll try to keep you from falling off the wagon, then.” He picked up his book again. “You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.” Sometimes just sitting near someone was all you needed...even when no one was talking. He knew that sometimes helped when things were bad. Julia would come sit and everything seemed at least a little better.