[Fic] Library of Winds / Pogue / Worry
Dec. 26th, 2006 12:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kittydesadePrompt: Worry
Fandom: The Covenant
Characters: Pogue, Caleb, Reid and Tyler in the background
Word Count: 1,276
Rating: PG-13 for one naughty word
Summary: Pogue could spend all his life worrying and it still might not be enough.
A/N: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
libraryofwinds weekly challenge
It was at the funeral, standing around with his hands in his pockets and a leather jacket he'd have to grow into covering his bony wrists, that he first realized it. The funeral wasn't even real and Caleb was standing there looking stunned. As though he was the one who had 'died' and not his father.
It was the first time it hit them, at least, he wasn't sure if it was hitting Reid. Tyler was Tyler, nothing fazed him, nothing rattled him. Nothing connected to them, at least. Things were what they were and that was good enough for Tyler, as long as he had the protection of his boys.
But Reid's hands were curled tight around each other, held tight to his chest. Pogue couldn't remember seeing him so huddled before.
Caleb looked like he was going to be sick. Pogue walked up and laid a hand on his shoulder, fingers pressing tight into the soft denim jacket. Feeling warm muscle underneath and squeezing just hard enough that Caleb knew he was really there and solid. His friend made a sound but didn't say anything. Didn't throw up either, that happened after the funeral, after everyone went away mouthing condolances that meant very little in the onest of what was really happening and the knowledge that this wasn't an ending, just the beginning of a long and slow and torturous process. Caleb threw up in the bushes behind the church and Pogue held his shoulders, offered his sleeve up as sacrifice, flagged down Tyler to get a bottle of water from inside.
They went back to school as though nothing had happened. As though it was something you could get over and have closure, and the boys knew where Caleb went when he ran his mother's errands and why his mother had disappeared down the neck of the decanter, but no one said anything. Family secrets. Every old family had them, everyone, but Pogue wondered if most people had them this bad.
It got a little better after the funeral, though. He wasn't sure it would. Caleb started to talk again, really talk instead of going through the motions of being a person. Started to laugh. Started to hang out with the guys instead of keeping an eye on them and a disciplinary hand so tight even Tyler was starting to fret.
Sarah came. So did Chase, but in the long run Sarah almost made up for it. She could put that light in Caleb's eyes that Pogue had thought was drowned in the backyard pond forever. She got him to loosen up, got him to dance (badly) and have a good time. She knew, even if it was forced by Chase's bullshit act rather than their choice to tell her. She knew, and it was okay.
For a while. Chase forced Caleb's father to give up what none of them had ever wanted, and suddenly Caleb had a whole new problem on his hands. Pogue saw the stress when Caleb almost drowned himself in the pool, doing laps back and forth and back and forth, till his body gave out and he couldn't even muster the spark of power in his eyes and Pogue had to go for a rescue. Just as well Caleb hadn't passed out, he couldn't remember how many compressions went between each breath. Just one. Just his arms around Caleb's chest and his fist pumping his heart back to a steady rhythm. Don't you ever fucking do that to me again.
Graduation day. Caleb and Sarah were standing together but Pogue could see the distance between them. Like the distance between him and Kate, more often now, but at least they were still talking. He didn't think Caleb and Sarah were talking anymore. Not really. The silence was back, and that look around his mouth like he was going to throw up. After the ceremony he went back behind the school and quietly fainted, just in time for Reid to come around the corner and scream for Pogue.
Harvard was a distraction, a chance for Caleb to throw himself back into the world of academia and get away from the mausoleum of a house. Without guilt, this time, as his mother was finally pulling out of it. Before they left she had pulled Pogue aside and spoken to him in words that terrified him with their responsibility. You hold him together. Like he had needed her to tell that.
He could see when Caleb wasn't doing well. Could watch him struggle, every day, and it wasn't like he didn't know what his friend was dealing with. The choices. The temptation. A few times, only a few, Caleb had talked about it. Said that it physically hurt not to use what was there, and Pogue wondered if maybe this was why the injunctions against doubling up the power were so strong. Not for everyone else's sake, but for yours.
But Caleb seemed to be thriving at Harvard. There were girls, a few of them. Off and on, one more on than off by the time they got their diplomas and started discussing what they were going to do with them. Reid had some colorful ideas, right up until someone started waving around his acceptance letter to medical school. Caleb was going into business. Pogue was starting his own.
Distance helped a little, until the first night Caleb called him up at two in the morning (five, his time) and Pogue caught the next flight out. It wasn't anything big. Just a panic attack. Just a moment of stress and what am I doing here and he still sat up with Caleb for the rest of the night and most of the next day. The phone rang off the hook until he started answering all calls in a growling, fuck-off tone. People started calling their parents at that point.
Pogue unpacked the last of the boxes and stared around the loft, not seeing the fixer-upper or the dust on the windows, the rust coming out of the faucets instead of water, just the downtown city view out of his bedroom. Caleb's office building. He wasn't getting anything done in Orange County, he couldn't breathe so far away with his chest so tight. The fear that had come with every successive bout of upset. Ascension for him had been cake, Tyler's, Reid's, medical school, Tyler's first day of high school teaching kids barely younger than him. Nothing compared to this. They had all gravitated around Ipswich, hovering in their own orbits and it had nothing to do with families or being a Mama's boy, as Reid's fiancee kept trying to say.
Caleb's father was dead, but he had been dead long before they put him in the ground. Caleb wasn't using any more than the rest of them, but he'd told Pogue that even he was looking in the mirror a little too carefully, most days. It had driven off three girls, one pretty serious. Vanity had nothing on self-preservation.
The floorboards creaked. Caleb was standing there, hands in his pockets, and the denim was still soft under his hand when he went over to his friend. Clasped his shoulder. Told him it would be all right.
Most days, Pogue even believed that.
Caleb pulled him into his arms and clung and cried and told him how grateful he was to have him here. Pogue's fingers clutched at his back and he mouthed words, forced breath into it, told him it would be all right, with never a sign of how scared he was and how much he worried for his friend.
Fandom: The Covenant
Characters: Pogue, Caleb, Reid and Tyler in the background
Word Count: 1,276
Rating: PG-13 for one naughty word
Summary: Pogue could spend all his life worrying and it still might not be enough.
A/N: Written for the
libraryofwinds weekly challengeIt was at the funeral, standing around with his hands in his pockets and a leather jacket he'd have to grow into covering his bony wrists, that he first realized it. The funeral wasn't even real and Caleb was standing there looking stunned. As though he was the one who had 'died' and not his father.
It was the first time it hit them, at least, he wasn't sure if it was hitting Reid. Tyler was Tyler, nothing fazed him, nothing rattled him. Nothing connected to them, at least. Things were what they were and that was good enough for Tyler, as long as he had the protection of his boys.
But Reid's hands were curled tight around each other, held tight to his chest. Pogue couldn't remember seeing him so huddled before.
Caleb looked like he was going to be sick. Pogue walked up and laid a hand on his shoulder, fingers pressing tight into the soft denim jacket. Feeling warm muscle underneath and squeezing just hard enough that Caleb knew he was really there and solid. His friend made a sound but didn't say anything. Didn't throw up either, that happened after the funeral, after everyone went away mouthing condolances that meant very little in the onest of what was really happening and the knowledge that this wasn't an ending, just the beginning of a long and slow and torturous process. Caleb threw up in the bushes behind the church and Pogue held his shoulders, offered his sleeve up as sacrifice, flagged down Tyler to get a bottle of water from inside.
They went back to school as though nothing had happened. As though it was something you could get over and have closure, and the boys knew where Caleb went when he ran his mother's errands and why his mother had disappeared down the neck of the decanter, but no one said anything. Family secrets. Every old family had them, everyone, but Pogue wondered if most people had them this bad.
It got a little better after the funeral, though. He wasn't sure it would. Caleb started to talk again, really talk instead of going through the motions of being a person. Started to laugh. Started to hang out with the guys instead of keeping an eye on them and a disciplinary hand so tight even Tyler was starting to fret.
Sarah came. So did Chase, but in the long run Sarah almost made up for it. She could put that light in Caleb's eyes that Pogue had thought was drowned in the backyard pond forever. She got him to loosen up, got him to dance (badly) and have a good time. She knew, even if it was forced by Chase's bullshit act rather than their choice to tell her. She knew, and it was okay.
For a while. Chase forced Caleb's father to give up what none of them had ever wanted, and suddenly Caleb had a whole new problem on his hands. Pogue saw the stress when Caleb almost drowned himself in the pool, doing laps back and forth and back and forth, till his body gave out and he couldn't even muster the spark of power in his eyes and Pogue had to go for a rescue. Just as well Caleb hadn't passed out, he couldn't remember how many compressions went between each breath. Just one. Just his arms around Caleb's chest and his fist pumping his heart back to a steady rhythm. Don't you ever fucking do that to me again.
Graduation day. Caleb and Sarah were standing together but Pogue could see the distance between them. Like the distance between him and Kate, more often now, but at least they were still talking. He didn't think Caleb and Sarah were talking anymore. Not really. The silence was back, and that look around his mouth like he was going to throw up. After the ceremony he went back behind the school and quietly fainted, just in time for Reid to come around the corner and scream for Pogue.
Harvard was a distraction, a chance for Caleb to throw himself back into the world of academia and get away from the mausoleum of a house. Without guilt, this time, as his mother was finally pulling out of it. Before they left she had pulled Pogue aside and spoken to him in words that terrified him with their responsibility. You hold him together. Like he had needed her to tell that.
He could see when Caleb wasn't doing well. Could watch him struggle, every day, and it wasn't like he didn't know what his friend was dealing with. The choices. The temptation. A few times, only a few, Caleb had talked about it. Said that it physically hurt not to use what was there, and Pogue wondered if maybe this was why the injunctions against doubling up the power were so strong. Not for everyone else's sake, but for yours.
But Caleb seemed to be thriving at Harvard. There were girls, a few of them. Off and on, one more on than off by the time they got their diplomas and started discussing what they were going to do with them. Reid had some colorful ideas, right up until someone started waving around his acceptance letter to medical school. Caleb was going into business. Pogue was starting his own.
Distance helped a little, until the first night Caleb called him up at two in the morning (five, his time) and Pogue caught the next flight out. It wasn't anything big. Just a panic attack. Just a moment of stress and what am I doing here and he still sat up with Caleb for the rest of the night and most of the next day. The phone rang off the hook until he started answering all calls in a growling, fuck-off tone. People started calling their parents at that point.
Pogue unpacked the last of the boxes and stared around the loft, not seeing the fixer-upper or the dust on the windows, the rust coming out of the faucets instead of water, just the downtown city view out of his bedroom. Caleb's office building. He wasn't getting anything done in Orange County, he couldn't breathe so far away with his chest so tight. The fear that had come with every successive bout of upset. Ascension for him had been cake, Tyler's, Reid's, medical school, Tyler's first day of high school teaching kids barely younger than him. Nothing compared to this. They had all gravitated around Ipswich, hovering in their own orbits and it had nothing to do with families or being a Mama's boy, as Reid's fiancee kept trying to say.
Caleb's father was dead, but he had been dead long before they put him in the ground. Caleb wasn't using any more than the rest of them, but he'd told Pogue that even he was looking in the mirror a little too carefully, most days. It had driven off three girls, one pretty serious. Vanity had nothing on self-preservation.
The floorboards creaked. Caleb was standing there, hands in his pockets, and the denim was still soft under his hand when he went over to his friend. Clasped his shoulder. Told him it would be all right.
Most days, Pogue even believed that.
Caleb pulled him into his arms and clung and cried and told him how grateful he was to have him here. Pogue's fingers clutched at his back and he mouthed words, forced breath into it, told him it would be all right, with never a sign of how scared he was and how much he worried for his friend.