Detective Euan Fitzpatrick (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lovesguinness) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
muserevival2016-01-30 12:55 am
lovesguinness) wrote in muserevival2016-01-30 12:55 am
Entry tags:
114.7. Misc/Random
"A friend will be a friend in times of all kinds."
tw: suicide references
Euan had known Cole's post on Facebook wasn't a good sign. It was also not a good sign when you were someone's NA sponsor and you didn't hear from them. The message on Facebook to Cole went unanswered, and so did the string of text messages Euan tried to send him soon after. Phone calls went straight to voicemail, despite ringing a few times in a row. Sometimes people might just pick up to tell you to fuck off and stop ringing. Sometimes a 'fuck off' was better than nothing at all... especially from someone who had history of substance addiction, depression, and suicide attempts.
Even if it was early as fuck and still dark outside, Euan grabbed his keys and headed into the city to Cole's place. All in all, Cole had seemed to be in an acceptably okay place recently. He wasn't closed off, he had been attending NA meetings with Euan, and he had been 'cleaner'. He hadn't been completely clean. He was still using, but the frequency had stopped with the intervention of methadone. The sun was just starting to rise when he pulled into a free parking space on Cole's street. It was down the block and not right out the front, but Euan didn't want to risk getting towed because it would just be a fucking inconvenience.
Euan's health wasn't what it used to be in the wake of his fight with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Even if he was in remission, there was no taking flight after flight of stairs two at a time anymore. He had to take the elevator, which did piss him off when he was impatient, but he had to fold to the fact his body had been to hell and back. It was, after all, the reason why he had to take a desk job. It just worked out well that it was an incredibly well-paid desk job that kept him busy, so the inconvenience paid off.
Cole now lived in a shoebox, shitty little apartment that he was renting after having to sell his much more lavish apartment when he had fallen off the wagon one too many times and used the cash from the sale to buy more drugs. He had sold his nightclub and his home to fund the addiction, and then when it all got too much, had overdosed and tried to kill himself. He had little left to keep going for. If anything. Euan knew what rock bottom felt like, but the same part was that Cole did too. All too well. He hadn't been very far from rock bottom in a couple of years now. That was the part that scared Euan. He was Cole's friend and sponsor, he had responsibilities towards him. To support him and care for him. Euan would give anyone he cared about the shirt off his back if they needed it. Sometimes, even help was out of his control and people he cared about got badly hurt.
At the door, he didn't bother with the buzzer. He just banged on it loudly. "Cole, c'mon, mate, open up! We're gonna fuckin't talk!"
Did he expect an immediate answer? No. But he hoped Cole would realise answering the door was a good idea. No answer came. Euan banged on the door heavily a couple more times and then grabbed the doorknob to give it a twist. It was open. The door swung open easily just when he was prepared to try to kick it open and break the lock. A moment or two of shock passed and then he was storming inside. His heart was up in his throat, expecting to find Cole OD'ed in a pool of blood or hanging from a door frame. It was a small as fuck place, so the search didn't take long. Cole wasn't there. Euan checked every single window to see if was open. The bedroom one was slightly ajar, so he pushed it right up and looked out to below. Had Cole jumped? Apparently not. The scene below was clear.
Cole wasn't here, but the unlocked door set off huge warning bells for Euan. He got his phone out to raise the alarm immediately. He didn't know why, but he had a sick feeling in his gut that somewhere out there where he couldn't be found, Cole had finally completed.
Euan Fitzpatrick (Original Character)
- Cole Carrington used with love and permission
Euan had known Cole's post on Facebook wasn't a good sign. It was also not a good sign when you were someone's NA sponsor and you didn't hear from them. The message on Facebook to Cole went unanswered, and so did the string of text messages Euan tried to send him soon after. Phone calls went straight to voicemail, despite ringing a few times in a row. Sometimes people might just pick up to tell you to fuck off and stop ringing. Sometimes a 'fuck off' was better than nothing at all... especially from someone who had history of substance addiction, depression, and suicide attempts.
Even if it was early as fuck and still dark outside, Euan grabbed his keys and headed into the city to Cole's place. All in all, Cole had seemed to be in an acceptably okay place recently. He wasn't closed off, he had been attending NA meetings with Euan, and he had been 'cleaner'. He hadn't been completely clean. He was still using, but the frequency had stopped with the intervention of methadone. The sun was just starting to rise when he pulled into a free parking space on Cole's street. It was down the block and not right out the front, but Euan didn't want to risk getting towed because it would just be a fucking inconvenience.
Euan's health wasn't what it used to be in the wake of his fight with Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Even if he was in remission, there was no taking flight after flight of stairs two at a time anymore. He had to take the elevator, which did piss him off when he was impatient, but he had to fold to the fact his body had been to hell and back. It was, after all, the reason why he had to take a desk job. It just worked out well that it was an incredibly well-paid desk job that kept him busy, so the inconvenience paid off.
Cole now lived in a shoebox, shitty little apartment that he was renting after having to sell his much more lavish apartment when he had fallen off the wagon one too many times and used the cash from the sale to buy more drugs. He had sold his nightclub and his home to fund the addiction, and then when it all got too much, had overdosed and tried to kill himself. He had little left to keep going for. If anything. Euan knew what rock bottom felt like, but the same part was that Cole did too. All too well. He hadn't been very far from rock bottom in a couple of years now. That was the part that scared Euan. He was Cole's friend and sponsor, he had responsibilities towards him. To support him and care for him. Euan would give anyone he cared about the shirt off his back if they needed it. Sometimes, even help was out of his control and people he cared about got badly hurt.
At the door, he didn't bother with the buzzer. He just banged on it loudly. "Cole, c'mon, mate, open up! We're gonna fuckin't talk!"
Did he expect an immediate answer? No. But he hoped Cole would realise answering the door was a good idea. No answer came. Euan banged on the door heavily a couple more times and then grabbed the doorknob to give it a twist. It was open. The door swung open easily just when he was prepared to try to kick it open and break the lock. A moment or two of shock passed and then he was storming inside. His heart was up in his throat, expecting to find Cole OD'ed in a pool of blood or hanging from a door frame. It was a small as fuck place, so the search didn't take long. Cole wasn't there. Euan checked every single window to see if was open. The bedroom one was slightly ajar, so he pushed it right up and looked out to below. Had Cole jumped? Apparently not. The scene below was clear.
Cole wasn't here, but the unlocked door set off huge warning bells for Euan. He got his phone out to raise the alarm immediately. He didn't know why, but he had a sick feeling in his gut that somewhere out there where he couldn't be found, Cole had finally completed.
Euan Fitzpatrick (Original Character)
- Cole Carrington used with love and permission