Who: Graciela Cervantes and Alex Smith
What: He tells her about his addiction and what caused it
Where: His flat



Her joke had been so funny. Graciela hadn't been able to stop laughing the entire time, and even more so when Kostos got in on it and, ay, it had been perfect. But a little mean, too (her brother was bigger than Alex, so!), so she'd popped over to his flat and...had laughed some more as he went on and on about how he'd almost had a heart attack that he'd been ready to buy a ticket for the next portkey out of the country and deus, had it been funny.

Now, it was almost eleven or so, not really time for bed, but they were both lying on Alex's bed anyway. Graciela was tinkering with a multicolored cube that you needed to...get all the sides to look the same...and it was not working. She huffed a bit and pushed herself further back into the pillows, ready to just chuck it out the window (she wouldn't, of course, but she wanted to), but with one rather hard twist of the box it flew out of her hands and over the side of the bed. Feeling lazy, Graciela barely moved from her position, actually, only her upper half disappeared as she reached around for the box.

But when she came back up, she didn't have the box in her hands, but a small pill bottle with Alex's name on the prescription. Graciela examined it, she knew what it was, she was a muggleborn, she knew, but he'd never mentioned having been on muggle medicine. That was strange, for a pureblood wizard, yes?

"What are these for?" she asked, trying to figure out what long words on the label meant.

Alex had found the joke to be less then funny. He'd honestly thought that her brother was going to be ready to kill him and immediately pondered leaving London for the next few ... millenias. Yes, that would be a long enough time. However, he had eventually gotten through with his ranting (helped by a few kisses, of course) and decided that it may have been a little amusing. So he'd gone back to his work - he hadn't lied about having a deadline - and tried to focus while Graciela had fun with his cube.

He hadn't figured it out yet either.

Scratching his head, he tried to think of what to write next when he heard Graciela's question. Wrinkling his forehead, he looked over his shoulder to her, about to ask what what was for, when his eyes landed on the bottle. He felt his mouth go dry rather quickly and he wanted to snatch it away and say it was nothing, but he'd promised himself he was going to tell her. Promised! He leaned over to see which prescription it was, biting his tongue, and going back to his article.

"It's for anxiety," he said simply.

Her brow furrowed immediately and kept her eyes on the bottle as she reached out with her foot to poke him in the back. If that wasn't alarming, she didn't know what was. Graciela had never thought Alex to be stressed, at least, not enough to need medication for it. She knew his job was hard, especially with the all the horrible things going on in Diagon Alley and the rest of the world.

"For work?" she asked; she was allowed to ask, yes? He had turned away so quickly, like it wasn't a big deal, pero...if he was hiding how bad he felt from her, Graciela wanted to know right away, so she could help fix it. If he was rushing for deadlines, maybe she'd cut down how much she came over, or! Or she could make him special dinners and things like that, little things to take off the stress. Yes, see, that was easy enough. They could figure it out, even if she was a little disappointed that he'd hid it from her. Boys and their pride. "Is it all the new work?"

Alex winced when she asked, but shook his head lightly. He'd been hoping it could just drop, but he knew it wasn't that easy. Nothing was, right? He bit his lip in thought, finally putting down his quill and placing his parchment to the side, before turning to face her. He opened his mouth several times to try and say something, but shook his head after a moment deciding that he just wasn't phrasing it right. Holding up a finger to tell her to hold on, he got up, went into the bathroom, and pulled open the drawer.

Oy.

He took out the three pill bottles, all of which were nearly empty, and walked back to the bed, placing them in front of her. He then dug underneath his bed, pulling out a handful of empty ones and placing them in front of her as well. All in all, about ten bottles that all had the prescribed dates within the last few months. He took a seat again, swallowing roughly, and picking up the three that had actual pills in them.

"These are the anxiety ones. This ones for depression. And this ones for... rage, pretty much."

She'd sat up and crossed her legs underneath her when Alex had left, fiddling with the strings on her pajamas bottoms, feeling guilty. Here Alex was, on anxiety medications, and she was playing mean tricks on him. Maybe he was serious about the heart attack! Oh, she would have to remember that, she would have to be more careful with her jokes and what she said.

So...she definitely hadn't expected him to come back with more bottles, and she was absolutely shocked at the amount that had finally piled up in front of her. Graciela took her time in reading each of the labels, all prescribed with different dates, but all fairly recent, and considering that you weren't supposed to be on all these different things at once...

Graciela looked up at him with a slight glare, shaking her head. Was he really trying this?

"This," she waved her hand over the pile, "is not funny, my joke, it was funny, this---this is not."

"I'm... I'm not trying to be funny," he said finally, swallowing roughly and finding it very hard to look at her. "The... The empty ones are mostly the same medicines... Um... I just... I take them a lot..." He muttered quietly, dropping one of the bottles since his hands didn't seem to want to stop shaking. He was suddenly quite sure she was going to hate him after this.

"Well, except... this one," he said, wrinkling his forehead at one of the bottles that was a bit older then the rest. "I was told to try a new pill and uh... It made me sick, so I was changed back to my old ones," he tossed the bottle back with the rest, closing his eyes for a moment, before he found the courage to look at her again.

"I uh... I've been on them since... Sixth year. Summer before it, actually. They were... Part of the reason why I changed so suddenly," he said simply, quite sure she probably knew about his infamous debunking of popularity.

"But--" it didn't make sense, none of it. You don't just start going on medication for nothing, there had to be a reason. Graciela shifted from her position, careful not to knock any of the bottles around, to turn and face him completely, hand going onto his shaking leg. Shaking, por que? Alex had to know he could tell her anything, sim?

For some reason, though, she felt like she shouldn't ask. If it was getting him this nervous, if he hadn't told her before, then maybe he didn't trust her with the knowledge. Graciela let out a breath, trying to figure out what she should do. She felt like she was being nosy, but---but he didn't have to tell her, if he didn't want. She'd...understand. She would, she'd have to.

"What--it is part of the reason? Why...I am sorry, I just..." She remember quite clearly how Alex had disappeared off the popularity radar at Hogwarts; he'd always interested her (even if it was just because of his name), but she'd never quite figured it out.

He shook his head, taking her hand in his after a second, and smiling very weakly. "You don't have to apologize," he said quietly. His stomach was twisting into several knots and he was suddenly wishing that he had avoided this entirely, but he would be a trusting boyfriend, and ... and ... do this right. Right? Right. Oy.

Alex looked at the bottles again and sighed heavily. He was taking these pills simply because he hated to tell people everything about him, even his parents. He was addicted because he'd been too afraid to actually relive Chris' death and face that yeah, he was a little scarred by it. Rubbing his neck, he pulled open one of the bottles dumping a pill into his hand, and looked at it. He sighed, not about to swallow, but... but really wishing he could.

"I uh... When I was little, I had a lot of muggle friends. My Dad well... He's like... The opposite of most purebloods. He thinks magic is petty and the easy way out of everything - though, he demands we still learn it simply to have it in case of an emergency or whatever - but he likes us to live without it. That's why we lived in a muggle town, he works in a muggle hospital, and... Well, for the most part, we do everything the muggle way. I went to muggle school before Hogwarts and everything." He was talking fast but in a rather monotone voice, a default for him whenever emotions were really pulled into things.

"I had one friend who I really got along with - his... His name was Chris and I used to spend every waking hour with him practically. When I was sent off to become a wizard, it was pretty hard to lie to him, but... That's the way it has to be, I guess. But um," he put his head in his hands, the one holding the pill balled in a fist that was pressed lightly against his eye, took a very deep breath, and tried to figure out how to phrase... well, the rest of this.

"He had a really... bad family life. His parents were pretty neglectful and abusive and I... I didn't know. Not until it was too late, really. He'd been depressed for years and he didn't tell anyone. He just dealt with it. I came home to visit him the summer before 6th year and... And I came into his room... and he..." He couldn't say it. He felt his throat tightening, his head was pounding, and he really wanted to take that stupid pill right about now. Fighting it was proving very difficult. "He had this... this noose... around his neck... And he was just... hanging there..." He felt a flash of it in his head, nearly jumping from the image, and the pill finally fell from his hand and onto the floor.

"I went home. I didn't tell anyone. I lashed out at my sister and she told my dad - Chris' parents called soon after to tell me about it, and I think my parents sort of assumed that was why I was so angry. My dad... He... Started to give me these," he motioned to the bottles, "And I... I haven't stopped taking them since. I..." He was quiet for a moment - a long one at that. "I can't."

Her hand was covering her mouth, fingers pressed against her nose by the time Alex was finished, and...she had no idea what to say. It was the last thing she'd expected, ¿y por qué debe ella? Why would she think he'd gone through something so horrific and traumatizing, why would the thought ever cross her mind? There was so much to take in and understand, and she just didn't know where to start.

All of it just spiraled further and further into a pit of despair for Alex and her heart literally ached at the idea of him suffering through this, all alone, all---Graciela tried her best not to start crying, but it was so hard, and her hand slipped from her mouth to her chest, down to where her other hand was still resting on Alex's leg.

It absolutely killed her to see him in this much pain, that memories, memories managed to do this to him and---oh, madre de deus---Graciela's hands ran up his arms and pressed against his chest for a second before she hugged him tightly around the neck, kissing the side of his head before taking a few deep breaths and pulling back. By this point she was basically in his lap, and Graciela didn't hesitate in pushing his hair out of his eyes, fingers tracing over his features and wanting to somehow erase all the pain she saw.

"Alex, Alex," she muttered, not really knowing what to say, because to tell him that it would all be okay after almost five years of thinking that it would never be wouldn't be helpful at all. But---but it could be. She wanted to tell him that she was here, but she wasn't naive enough to think that her presence alone would be able to help him, there was so, so much more he needed, but---but she was willing to help him do it---Her arms went around him again as she kissed his forehead, not ready to let go of him any time soon. "Mi amor, no, oh--Alex."

Alex didn't know why he'd been thinking that Graciela would hate him for being like this. Maybe it was the upbringing he had, the built in fears that if you behaved like a weakling than no one would care about you. Stifling emotions was what he had always been told to do, secrets in a relationship were key, as if someone knew everything about you, they wouldn't love you anymore. The mystery would be gone, the flaws would be revealed, and things were over. The secrets that his father kept from his mother daily were numerous, even though a good portion of them were clearly kept to keep her happy. She didn't even know Alex was upset - she thought Chris had moved away.

He had wrapped his arms around him, placing his head against her shoulder and he wanted to cry. He wanted to sob against her, he wanted to release all that stress that he had pented up, but he couldn't. His eyes burned like he was about to but there weren't any tears behind his eyes to motivate that action. Something was stopping him; something was always stopping him. Alex had gotten used to the feeling of being completely empty, almost numb - which was perhaps why the happiness he felt around Graciela was so powerful. He hadn't felt an emotion that genuine in... years. He swallowed roughly, feeling furious with himself for not being able to preform such a simple, normal reaction to feeling so absolutely depressed.

His shoulder started to heave like he was crying, but... He started to laugh. It wasn't the amused sort of laugh that was given after a particularly funny joke, but one that was very cold and very ... Miserable. And he couldn't stop. He knew it was the worst reaction he could give right at that moment but it was all he could do. So... he did.

Graciela had decided she'd be perfectly fine with sitting here with him for as long as he wanted. In silence, or if he wanted to talk, or...or...was he laughing. She tensed slightly before pulling back to get a look at his face because if this had all been a joke, she was going to fucking kill him (and she cursed, so you can see how serious she was). If this had all been a joke she was disapparating immediately and he'd have to----oh, deusito mio, no one could be that mean, and she was right---Alex looked absolutely miserable and stressed and torn and her nervous expression faded immediately and she combed his hair away, letting out a soft sigh.

"You are a very confusing person, Alexandrakis Smith," she said softly, but there was a small smile playing on her lips and she ran her fingers over his cheeks and to his ears so that she could take hold of his face. Deus, she loved him.

"But I would like to figure you out some more, and to help you. If you want me to, and if you don't," which Graciela wasn't positive she'd allow, but for the current situation, it was probably the best thing to say, "if you don't, I will be there for you," always, "always."

Because---even if it wasn't like that, Alex had done so much for her that he was quickly becoming her best friend, there was such a wonderful, wonderful thing about that, that she could trust him with basically everything. So, yes---she would be there, even if they broke up one day, Graciela was quite happy with simply having him in her life.

Alex gave a rather light grin when she said his full name. No matter how he felt, hearing that seemed to make him feel better. It was the adorable way she could never pronounce it just right that made him try to hold in a snicker, even if he was in the midst of having a mental breakdown. His eyes locked with hers as she continued speaking, however, and he felt that mix of amusement and depression start to slowly be pushed to the side by an overwhelming amount of affection.

He had never had someone who was willing to just be with him. Willing to just stay by his side no matter what happened or where they were in life. He felt so... relieved knowing she'd always be there. He loved her (an odd enough feat in itself as he had never been willing to use the word in all honesty before now) and he didn't know what he'd feel if she were gone - probably that typical emptiness that seemed to like to invade his life on a daily basis.

He didn't know how to tell her how much her words meant to him, however. He was good with words, but when picking ones that actually held meaning, he could never pull himself together. So, instead, he leaned up, kissing her softly, his hand moving and being placed on the back of her neck. He held her there, not deepening or furthering the kiss beyond that simple touch; and it was then that a single tear actually rolled down his cheek.