betweentheearth | I think you're my best friend [closed]

I think you're my best friend [closed]

Who: Lazarus and Tony
What: Too many feels to handle, relationship woes and endings.
Where: L and Cesar's apartment... minus a Cesar ;;
When: After the breakup
Warnings: FEELS, candid relationship talk, poorly managed mental illness

Cesar had left with the explicit understanding that Lazarus would be looked after and reach out to those he could trust and count on. It's not like there aren't a multitude of those people in this very same building, better equipped to deal with unmedicated episodes without the painful, raw emotional baggage that still hangs between the two men in the form of Cesar's deceased brother.

But now that the glass has been cleaned up and the bandages and stitches have been applied where necessary, Lazarus hasn't really followed through. He's preferred to be alone and keep this a secret for now, and even though he realizes that Cesar might possibly have contacted people to give them a heads up about the severity of this situation as a whole, he might also have just gotten far away as fast as possible. Assuming the best, he trusts Lazarus even now to do what's needed; assuming the worst, he's already trying to forget.

Lazarus tries not to think of it, or the pills that continue to dwindle in supply. It's a quiet day, as they go, and he makes the best of it by trying to get some sleep. The bed is no longer shared, but he takes a pillow and blanket to the couch all the same.

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It's probably better this way. Though Tony's certainly capable of withstanding anything Lazarus could throw at him physically, it was much better that he didn't have to. Or have to try to keep him from taking a really inconvenient dive off of a building.

L's lucky it isn't worse, to be fair, but some of the injuries look dangerously angry and should definitely be tended to before a hospital visit becomes necessary. "Got any rubbing alcohol? Neosporin?" He's going to simply skim over the disjointed and nonsensical nature in L's words, he knows what's causing it. There's really no reason to point it out to him.

Gently he pats L's side, encouragement and insistence in one gesture. "Come on, up with you. Into the shower we'll get you cleaned up." To Tony's over-sensitive nose he stinks, but he's learning to cope with that without throwing too many fits about it. Sometimes he can't help the look on his face, though.

It's always better when friends don't physically fight friends, whether or not there's as large a discrepancy between strength and skill levels as there is between Tony and Lazarus. As it is he puts up no resistance, nods and points to a drawer in the kitchen when Tony asks about Neosporin and rubbing alcohol. Even if his words and thoughts are nonsensical and disjointed, he understands well enough what's being asked and why it's happening.

He can't take care of himself, and now it's falling to someone he was supposed to take care of. Even though he signed off on the confidentiality of the matter, he doesn't want Nathan to know about this any more than he wants Tony to be the one to push him into the shower and disinfect and patch his newest cuts.

Well, what do you want? You sent Cesar away, and White Pines is a pile of ashes.

He realizes that a couple of years ago, he almost went back, and would probably be in that pile of ashes if he had. He erupts into peals of strange, frenetic laughter that is devoid of joy or reason as Tony helps to haul him off to the shower. Though the glass has been cleaned up, cold air comes in through the space where Lazarus broke the window frame in his ill-advised, ill-fated escape attempt.

Briefly Tony breaks away from picking at L's back to go collect the things he'll need, before returning to usher him towards the shower. Clean first, then he can try to treat the wounds as best he knows how. The hot water may help to break them open a bit, so that he can flush them out with the alcohol. It'll be unpleasant but for a guy who used to drink hand sanitizer he somehow doubts that'll be a problem.

The freedom from confidentiality makes things more simple for Tony, but he's not going to go spilling all of Lazarus' sordid secrets unless absolutely necessary. He'll tell Nathan what they both need to know to keep a lid on things, but the details can be spared. He knows how to be diplomatic, it'll be fine.

The laughter is startling and earns a slight twitching jump of surprise, a surprised and startled glance shot his way. But still Tony ushers, just shaking his head and assuming it'll all make sense eventually. "Remind me to put some plastic on that. Clothes off, sit down, we'll get you cleaned up." He murmurs as he shuffles about, setting the alcohol nearby to be used later. At least Japanese showers make this sort of thing a lot easier than Western style, that's for sure.

He goes like a child led, easily if somewhat dazedly. No part of this is going to be pleasant, and while that's a difficult thing to stomach, it's necessary, and for all that Lazarus has done for the Numbered, he doesn't think that anyone else would come. Not like this, not for this. It's too depressing and too humiliating.

It's also a tremendous relief, because no matter what happens now, at least he isn't alone with the hideous disease anymore.

Obediently, he shucks off the rest of his clothes. His fall did a fair amount of damage to his skin; the exposed parts got cut badly, and even the ones covered by jeans and his shirt didn't escape entirely unscathed. He moves in a way that makes it clear that these spots are tender, slowly and stiltedly. He steps into the shower carefully, aware that there might be some glass he missed, but feeling no loose shards bite into his foot as he sinks into a crouch.

"Tony, hey..." he starts softly. "I did the right thing, didn't I? By making him go?"

Perhaps, but Tony won't hold it against him. When Lazarus neglected himself so long he nearly died of pneumonia? That he held against him, slightly anyway, because his friend and brother wasn't taking care of himself and scared the hell out of him. It wasn't that he needed help, he's never held that against Lazarus.

But that had also taught him a disturbing trend, L needed to be kept an eye on at times, to make sure he wasn't forgetting basic human functions like eating. Eating was a big one. So after hearing Cesar had left, he knew it would be a good idea to check up on him. Thank goodness he had, too.

It's just a little worse than he was expecting, that's all.

"Yeah," Came the immediate response as Tony moved to get the water going. "Yeah, you did. Better for you both. As much as it sucks, I know."

"Just wish you'd have called me and let me know what was going on."

For a goddamn adult, Lazarus feels a lot of shame and disappointment in the way certain things have played out. The pneumonia scare was a big one, but it's practically the tip of the iceberg as far as other elements go. As he exposes his pitiful body while Tony draws the water, he stares at the rising level in the newly-clean tub, remembering when it was covered in a layer of shattered glass.

He seems heartened, at least, that Tony agrees that he did the right thing. "Yeah?" he asks, voice thin, latching onto it for what it is. Clinging, even, desperate to know that something good came of something that still feels so horribly raw.

"He didn't want to. But he would have hated me," he says, drawing his arms closer to his body and shivering. "He wold have come to... hate me, Tony. I just... that's why I didn't call you right away. I wanted to see if I could go it alone because this isn't anyone's problem but mine."

Thankfully no glass remained, that would make for a dreadful experience. Once the temperature is right Tony motions for Lazarus to hop in while he finishes filling it. "It's a bit hot, tell me if it's too much? Try to soften up some of those cuts." Then maybe he can get them disinfected and spare Lazarus something even worse than embarrassment.

"He still cares," Tony agrees quietly. "I don't know if he'd hate you, but it'd be hard. With his brother... he's probably still going through a lot, yeah?" Were he in Cesar's shoes, Tony couldn't be certain he'd react with the same level of grace and composure. He casts Lazarus a sympathetic smile. "I know, L. But that's what I'm here for, remember?"

He won't hold it against him, he knows that pride all too well.

Whether or not it's too hot or cold, Lazarus probably wouldn't say so. He's numb and disassociated, and lowers himself into the water while Tony talks gently in his general direction.

"He wouldn't stop caring..." he answers, curling his torn-up back. "But that's it exactly. Moises is always here. I've burned a template of reality into my brain and it still isn't always enough to make a difference. I ruined everything... the least I can do is keep from finding a way to ruin even more."

He hugs his legs to his chest, nodding dejectedly at Tony's reassurance. "Yeah, I... I know."

Tony can only hope it isn't too hot, cold might be worse, given Lazarus' state. The heat may help soften some of those poorly healed wounds as well.

"That's good," If it were too easy, well... Then Tony would need to have a few Words with Cesar, wouldn't he? As it is, he's content to let it lay the way it is. It wasn't the best situation, all around, but possibly better in the long run. At least until L can get sorted out. "No you didn't. Relax, these things happen, right?" Briefly he scuttles away to grab a cup to pour water with, returning just as swiftly.

"Okay, head back, let's get this hair washed yeah?" Murmured casually while shoving a bar of soap into Lazarus' hands in a silent command to help out. Once he's clean he'll feel better, right?

"We'll figure this out."

He glances back over his shoulder, looking mildly exasperated, as though wondering how the hell it can be good in spite of the reassurances. He feels like he's missing an arm, and it doesn't even matter that he's technically the person who gave permission for it to be amputated.

He shivers, swallowing the lump in his throat and tipping his head back at Tony's request. It's a side of the young man he hasn't seen yet, and if he was in a better place, mentally and emotionally and maybe wasn't the cut-up pitiful creature in the tub. Unlike the last time they had a similar health crisis... Tony actually seems calm, soothing, and competent. He's not panicking, he's just patiently helping where it's needed.

"Or we won't..." he mumbles, red-rimmed eyes staring glassily at the ceiling. "Either way, it's only two choices, and I guess that's something to take some kind of comfort in."

Because it meant his care was true, even if it hurt more. But Tony's not responding to that look or explaining himself, he's busy getting what he needs to treat L's back. It's going to hurt, it's going to hurt for a very long time. But they can work through it, can't they?

This time Lazarus isn't near death, for one, and Tony's been through.. a lot. For another. Shou requires a lot of reassurance as well, he's learned some patience there, and some impatience, but that won't help Lazarus. Nah, he's here to look after his brother. And right now a gentle hand and clean hair seem to be a better ticket than scolding.

"We will," He reaffirms, dumping water into L's hair then following up with shampoo. They'll have him back in a semi-normal state in no time. "I've got an idea or two."

It's not pleasant for anyone involved in this difficult situation. As much as Lazarus feels like he should be doing Tony the same courtesy he gave Cesar and cut him loose, asking and even demanding that he leave, he knows that he wouldn't last long without someone to take care of him. Even though his pride smarts and stings at that realization, it's been years since he genuinely wanted to die, and even this difficult life is preferable to no life at all.

"Ideas?" he asks as Tony works the shampoo into a lather. It'll be tough going, getting through the snags and tangles o his shaggy hair. "I... want to hear them. I think I need to hear them."

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