just_another | (open)

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There's half a bottle of whiskey sitting on the counter in Crossroads and Joel is sitting just behind it, staring at it thoughtfully, wondering if he'll ever be able to drink it again or even just the smell of whiskey will remind him of Spencer for the rest of his life. He doesn't need to drink it, there had been enough beer in his fridge to get him sufficiently drunk, especially when combined with the painkillers the doctor had given him for his wrist, but he wants to drink it.

He wants to share it with Spencer. That was the plan. He likes whiskey, but he'd only bought it because Spencer likes it, too, and while they'd had some of it together already, the plan was to finish it with him. Because Joel had plans. He'd been stupid enough to make plans all the while knowing it could never last because he's done bad things and he's hurt people and there are reasons he's tried so hard to keep his distance. Good reasons. But he'd been stupid and he'd listened to the part of him that thought it was okay to move on. The part of him that felt weightless every time Spencer smiled in his direction. The part that thought asking him out on a date was going to end well.

And it hadn't. It hadn't ended well at all. Joel isn't prone to exaggeration, but he thinks calling last night a complete disaster isn't far off. Mark had come and he'd taken Spencer and he'd hurt him. Joel knows it could have been worse; he knows they both could have died in that lighthouse, but that doesn't make the things that had been done to Spencer any easier to stomach. Especially not when he knows it's his fault. If they hadn't gotten close, if he hadn't let himself get so... so carried away, then Spencer never would have become a target.

Now he doesn't even think it matters. He can't imagine that Spencer will want anything to do with him anymore and that's why he's sitting in his closed, dark store instead of somewhere with Spencer. He should have stayed at the hospital, he shouldn't have been such a coward, but he doesn't think he can face hearing Spencer tell him he doesn't want him around anymore. So he's here. And he's drunk. And he's swaying back and forth on his stool behind the counter, wondering if there's enough whiskey left in the bottle to get him so drunk that he blacks out for a week or two.

He doesn't want to be here. He wants to go back and erase Friday night and do it all over again. He wants to be wherever Spencer is. That's the only thing he wants and he wants it so badly that his chest aches with it, but he can't have it.

"Fuck it," he mutters, his words already slurred, then uncaps the bottle of whiskey and takes a long swallow. Black out drunk sounds better than any of his other options right about now.

[Timed to Saturday late afternoon/evening. While the store is technically closed, he'll open the door for anyone who knocks or rings the bell. Given the violence of the attack on Spencer, the news has probably gotten around, so feel free to come bang on his door and assume your pup has heard. Joel himself has a black eye, a bruised jaw and a sprained wrist.]

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Lara gets the series of texts while she's out walking Osha. She frowns at the screen and then looks up. She's about halfway to Crossroads already so she heads in that direction.

It's about twenty minutes later when she knocks on his door. "Joel? It's Lara."

Joel nearly falls off his stool at the sound of the knock and even though he'd sent her a text -- or maybe it was more, he can't remember -- he still stares at the door for a long moment, confused. "Just a second," he says, very aware of how slurred his words are. He knows it's going to take him longer than it should to get to the door and he doesn't want her to think he invited her here only to ignore her when she arrived.

"Just a second," he says again, getting off the stool and stumbling around the counter. This is so stupid and immature. He should be with Spencer. Then he opens the door, squinting into the daylight. "Hi."

"Jesus. I thought your texts were bad." Lara frowned at him. "What's going on Joel?" she said quietly as she herded him back inside.

She doesn't know. That makes it worse, he thinks, because it means he has to tell her and the thought of telling anyone what's happened to Spencer because of him makes his stomach turn.

He looks down at his wrist, the splint the doctor gave him, then back up at Lara. "I'm sorry," he says first. "I wasn't even really mad at you, I was just scared."

He looks heartbroken and he's obviously in physical pain even without seeing the splint. It's painful to see him move.

"Don't worry about that now, sweetheart." She winced, looking over his cuts and scrapes. "If you don't want to tell me what happened, that's fine but I need to make sure you're okay now. Are you?"

"I have to worry about it now," he insists, knowing he's only being so forceful about it because he's drunk and hating himself a little for that. He should be able to tell people they're important without having to drink or nearly lose one of them. "I don't have a lot of friends, I need the ones I do have to know that they're... important." He's not saying it right and he rubs his good hand against his eye, avoiding the bruises.

At her question, though, he shakes his head and it's all he can do for a long moment. His chin quivers and then he clenches his jaw. "I just wanted to take him on a date."

Lara nods. "I get it. It's okay. And people can be your friends and still make you mad at them. I fucked up. You reacted like you should have. But I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere."

"Spencer?" Worry creases her features. "Is he okay? What's going on?"

Joel doesn't often initiate touch, but when Lara says she's not going anywhere, he reaches out, a little awkwardly, and touches her hand. Then he sits down heavily on the couch and runs his good hand through his hair. She knows about the letters, so at least he won't have to explain that part, but the rest is what's difficult.

"Mark... the guy writing the letters. He broke into Spencer's house and took him up to that old lighthouse," he says. "We were supposed to go to the movie together, but he wasn't home and he wasn't on the boardwalk, so I did a spell to find him and... he's okay. I mean... Mark broke his fingers. Tried to kill him." But he's not dead.

"Fuck." Lara sat down heavily. "Holy shit, Joel." She didn't realise things were that bad. "What happened to Mark? Is he gone?"

"Arrested," he says. "I called Detective Astor before I went in and he got there just as Spencer and I were coming out."

He casts a long glance toward a whiskey bottle, wishing he'd brought it with him, but he's probably drunk enough. "I almost killed him," he admits. "I wanted to." Having Spencer there is the only thing that stopped him, he's sure of that, and even now he's not quite sure he made the right decision.

Lara gave him a fierce look. "He's not worth it. He'd stop existing and that'd be a good thing." And it really would. "But you clawed your way out of a very dark place to get to be the man you are now, Joel. Killing him, as much as you want to, would cost you everything you've worked for.

She's right and he knows she's right, but it still doesn't stop him from wishing he'd been able to stop Mark forever. As it is, he's afraid he'll come back eventually. He's in jail now and maybe he'll stay there for years, but he won't be there forever.

Still, he nods, because he knows she's right. It's the same reason Spencer asked him to stop. "I know," he whispers. "He would have killed Spencer. He really wanted to. He wanted to hurt me."

"He'll pay for what he did." She said, already forming a plan to deal with Mark quietly in a few years when things had died down. No one hurt her friends and if it protected Joel from going back to the dark side...well, it was worth it. "And he won't be able to hurt you again. You or Spencer."

She softened. "Thank you for that, by the way. Spencer...he means a lot to me. Same as you."

There's something in Lara's tone that suggest she means more than just prison and Joel doesn't ask about it. If something happens to Mark down the road, he doesn't think it'll be much of an accident, and he's grateful for it. Maybe it should scare him, but it doesn't. Lara's never frightened him and he's not even sure he's scared of the things he's capable of anymore.

"I couldn't leave him there," he says, his voice hushed. "I'm the reason he was in danger at all, I just... do you think he hates me?" Joel doesn't think anyone would blame Spencer if he did.

She shook her head vehemently. "Spencer doesn't hate. He's not that sort of person. And he would never blame you for something someone else did." She took his hand and rubbed his knuckles gently. "Have you been to see him?"

Joel looks down at Lara's hand on his, studying their fingers instead of looking up at her because he's afraid of what she might see if he meets her gaze. He shakes his head. "The doctors made me leave once they started to work on his hand and I wanted... I went to his house and cleaned up the broken glass and I thought about staying, but my wrist hurt, so I left just to fill my prescription and then..."

Then he hadn't been able to go back. Then he'd been too ashamed to face Spencer again. Then he'd come back here and gotten drunk.

Lara nodded. She understood that. And she even understood the drinking.

She stood up and held out her hand. "Come on. You need coffee. Show me where your coffee maker is."

The coffee maker is upstairs. The place he's rarely allowed anyone to go, but he's so tired of keeping people away and he's drunk and physically exhausted and Lara had come. For awhile he'd been hurt and angry, but he'd texted her and she'd come anyway and if that's not a sign of someone who cares, he doesn't know what is, so he points toward the staircase at the back of he store.

"Up there," he says before taking the hand she was offering him. "I've got great coffee up there. Come on." He's not sure he can make it up the steep stairs, but he'll have to try, because that's where the coffee is and that's where his bed is. Right now he feels like he might be able to sleep for a year.

Lara followed him up the stairs carefully, mindful that he pretty wrecked. Hopefully the coffee would level him out enough to let him sleep properly without passing out and then waking feeling worse tomorrow.

She set hm down on a chair and rummaged around the kitchen, getting coffee on the go before she went back to him.

"What did the police have to say when you called them?" She asked gently.

"I got yelled at for not waiting for them to arrive," he admits as he drops down into a chair and rests his forehead against his good hand. He knows he deserved it, he knows things could have turned out a lot worse, but if he'd had to go back and do it all over again, he knows he still wouldn't wait. He'd do anything to keep Spencer safe.

"As soon as I called Detective Astor, he was on his way," he says. "But I just couldn't wait. I was already there and... I couldn't wait. He's too... he's too important already." He doesn't know how that happened in a month, but it has. Spencer is too important to lose, to risk, to be without.

Lara sat next to him and couldn't resist letting her siren side reassure itself that he was okay, running a hand over his hair, hoping he'd read it as intended comfort.

"Normally I'd agree with Le-... Detective Astor, but in this case, I'm glad you didn't." She smiled at him. "And now he's safe." She ducked into his line of sight. "He's safe, Joel."

Joel closes his eyes at the feel of her hand against his hair and it's surprising, but he feels a little better. He's never been good at taking comfort from others, but right now he needs it so desperately and he's so tired of fighting the person he's been trying to be for so long than he just gives in to it.

"He's safe," he echoes, opening his eyes and meeting Lara's gaze. He nods, knowing it's true, but safe and okay are very different things. And Joel just wants Spencer to be okay. "And I'm drinking like an idiot alone in my store until I drunkenly text the people I've been a jerk to over the past week. I should be with him. What's wrong with me?"

She pushes the hair off his face and looks at him seriously. "You're allowed to react to this, Joel. You're allowed a night to try and work this all through." She smiled a little. "Tomorrow you can take your hangover and go see him again."

He still thinks he should be with Spencer instead of sitting here and feeling sorry for himself, but he knows Lara is right, too. It feels selfish. It feels like something he shouldn't be allowed to have because it's his fault this has happened in the first place. "Thanks for coming," he says again, forcing a faint smile. "I needed to talk to someone." And there aren't very many people he really trusts.

"Any time." She smiled. "I mean that. You just call and I'll come." She gets up and pours some coffee for them both. "And at least this puts ghosts to rest. You've been waiting for this shoe to drop for years. It's done now." She says, returning to sit next to him, handing him his coffee.

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