Summer Is Coming, My Friends :D

Go my gozyugers

#Oshi_no_Ko 　#推しの子

#fanart #ファンアート

星野アイ

I FUCKING LOVE UNOVA ❗❗❗❗💖💖💖❗💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💗💗💗💗💗💘💘💘💘💘💟💟💟💟💟💟💟🔪🔪🔪💝💝🎊🎊🎊🎊

fun unova mons :))

as someone who lives in Brazil this isn't aesthetic at all💀💀i fckin DESPISE the mess of pole cables everywher

very girl slay when an electric pole has a million wires all tangled up around it

Second part of your url is a valid warrior cats name

OMG really? so sorry it took so long to answer ya, but that's awesome actually, I never read Warrior Cats but I think it's pretty cool, I do love the Splash Star name

im making azumanga character's orders in papa's cluckeria because im unemployed

Shit posts, Beast slander, Ancients x Beasts, and Shadow Milk breakdown. I got it all!

Trevor decides to do something for himself and his relationship with Michael: he begins a drug detox that doesn't include being locked away in a mental institution.

The only problem is that he doesn't want Michael to know yet, or what led him to make the decision to get better.

/////

“Hey, man”, Franklin said kindly when Trevor left the doctor's office without being bathed in blood or, at best-worst case scenario, shattered knuckles. “How did it go?”.

“Fine...I guess", Trevor replied, holding some papers in his right hand. “He prescribed medication that will help me with withdrawal. I'm due back in two weeks”.

“For what?”, asked Franklin, as they both headed toward the exit of the clinic.

“He'll evaluate whether he has to increase or decrease the dosage, depending on how I respond to the treatment for the first fourteen days. Then there's the three- to six-month treatment”. Trevor ran a hand over his face, feeling overwhelmed, “I haven't even started and I already feel like I'm going to collapse”.

“Hey”, Franklin said, patting him on the shoulder. “You're making the right decision, Trev. The drugs were tearing you apart”.

“Don't even mention it...”, Trevor sighed, looking at the paperwork to get the drugs. “Frank, I'd like to ask you a favor”.

Franklin nodded and waited for Trevor to tell him what he needed.

“For now, don't tell Michael. I don't know how I'll handle it and I don't want him to worry”.

“What? But...they're dating. I thought you'd want him to know you're with the treatment”, Franklin said, confused.

“Yeah, he'll know, later”, Trevor clarified. “For the time being, let me handle it, okay? Thanks again for joining me”.

“...You're welcome”, Franklin replied, cautiously. It was clear that he wasn't convinced that the decision to keep it from Michael was the right one, but at the same time, it was Trevor who would be dealing with the withdrawal and what the treatment entailed, therefore, he should handle it in whatever way he felt best. Franklin promised himself that he would only step in if he noticed things were getting complicated.

“Let's go out these days and I'll keep you updated”, Trevor assured him, far too calm for what Franklin was used to. “I already got you into this, I'm not going to leave you guessing”.

“I'll wait for your call”, Franklin advised.

They said their goodbyes and each went to their respective vehicles. Trevor waited until he lost sight of Franklin's car, gripped the steering wheel tightly and leaned his forehead against it, breathing heavily. His surroundings felt different, more distant, and the sounds didn't come to bother him as they had the first few weeks since moving in with Michael. Unlike those days, he told himself that the noises might help him think about things other than the desire to consume and the pain his system would be subjected to by not receiving what he wanted.

Perhaps some of his neurons were damaged, but Trevor understood all that detoxification entailed on a physical and emotional level. He'd been through it before, the days when he wasn't in the mood to consume even a small dose. He remembered sleeping more than ten hours and having trouble concentrating once he managed to get out of bed. Since Sandy Shores was, by all accounts, a 'quiet' place, Trevor's mind managed to focus in a short time due to the lack of stimuli in the surroundings. The worst, however, were the headaches afterwards. Trevor didn't think he had ever suffered such severe pain even when he was at the academy.

Weeks after moving in with Michael, he didn't seriously think about stopping using, but he had the decency not to do it in front of his boyfriend. The last thing he wanted was for them to fight over the issue of using, just as they had once fought over Michael's alcoholism and smoking.

Michael opted to quit smoking and cut down on his drinking if it would stop the fights and told Trevor so. Because of this, Trevor felt he should do the same, both to advance the relationship and for his own health.

At the doctor's office, just hours after being tested, the guy was horrified by Trevor's results and explained, alarmed, that in years of his career they had never received such a severe case of drug use, let alone one where the user was on his feet. Trevor did his best to contain an angry outburst that would cause him to break things and leave the office without prescriptions. Instead of letting himself lose self-control, he allowed his drug-free mind to succumb to an apathetic state of mind where nothing mattered to him, neither his surroundings nor himself. He had been off for a few days, but abstinence had not been kind; what the hell, it never was, but before he decided to go to the doctor's office, it went from bad to worse.

Trevor thought he would be strong enough to deal with his problem alone, but sooner rather than later he realized he couldn't do it. He hated to admit that he needed help, and he hated even more to involve Franklin, even if he knew that if he tried on his own, he wouldn't even get into the office.

Well, there's these next few weeks to deal with, he told himself, starting the van.

Before returning to the mansion, he stopped by the pharmacy and bought the prescribed medication. He put them in a pill box he kept in the glove compartment and put it in his jacket pocket. He threw the receipt and the empty box in the trash.

Arriving at the mansion, he took a deep breath and got out of the van, making sure the pillbox was out of sight. As soon as he got the chance, he would leave it on his bedside table.

He walked in and was greeted by Michael's voice talking to someone in the living room. Since no other voice could be heard, Trevor assumed he was talking on a cell phone.

Relaxing his posture, he went into the living room and, indeed and from what he understood, he was talking to Solomon.

Michael became aware of his presence and sketched a smile.

“Solomon, I have to leave you. I'll talk to you later”.

“Okay, Michael”, the producer replied and from his tone, it was easy to tell he was smiling. “I'll see you later in the week. Stop by the studio more often”.

“Will do. See you”.

As soon as he hung up, Trevor walked over to the couch and leaned down to capture Michael's lips. The black-haired man set the cell phone aside.

“How'd it go at...whatever it was you did?”, asked Michael, when they broke apart.

Trevor smirked. One of the things he'd made clear since they started living together was that when he ran important 'errands', he wouldn't give Michael all the details or let him get involved if it wasn't necessary. Because of this, every time Trevor went out, Michael had to make guesses about what might happen over the next few hours until his partner returned to the mansion.

“Great! Everything went great and the police didn't chase me. That's a good development”, Trevor replied. Michael nudged him.

“Yeah, it'll be for the best”, Michael said, somewhat sternly. By inertia, he moved toward Trevor, so that their arms ended up brushing against each other.

Trevor got the feeling that Michael was trying to find out if he had consumed anything, alcohol, marijuana or other drugs. It wouldn't have seemed strange to him. The first few times Trevor would go away and use, he would come back to the mansion smelling of some of the above mentioned or all together. He knew Michael was used to it, but that didn't stop the reproachful looks from stabbing Trevor like the words of rejection from flight school did so many years ago. He had just kissed him and found that he didn't smell anything strange, so it could simply be that Michael desired the contact.

Trevor was about to wrap his arms around him to end up in a side hug, but abruptly remembered he had the pillbox in his pocket. He couldn't take any chances.

He pulled away from Michael and got up from the couch.

“¿T?”.

“I'm going to...leave my jacket. I'll be right back”.

Trevor climbed the stairs and went to the shared room. He pulled the pillbox out of his pocket and took a pill. He managed to swallow it without water, using habit. He was to take another one after eight hours. For the first one, he didn't want to wait for a specific time; first mistake. Muttering a curse, he checked the time. Two o'clock in the afternoon. Well, the next one was to be at ten o'clock and the third at six o'clock the next morning.

If he set the alarm, he would be forced to explain himself to Michael; and if he didn't, he ran the risk of going over the hour.

He put the pillbox in the drawer of his bedside table, took off his jacket as he felt suffocated by the heat, and sat on the edge of the bed in thought. He had a chance to get better and make his relationship with Michael work. But, at the same time, knowing that he would secretly have to deal with withdrawal and the effects of the medication was not helping his stress to subside. Nor was it a comfort to have to put himself on a schedule to take pills that would help him cope with the pain and anxiety of using. He would have been better off smoking marijuana. However, he was well aware of the issue of trading one addiction for another and doing so would be the same as quitting treatment almost without having started.

Trevor realized he was taking too long to have gone upstairs to drop off his jacket.

He went back downstairs and went straight to Michael. He got back into his previous position and pulled him to himself to hug him.

“Are you sure you're okay?”, asked Michael, concerned.

Trevor kept his body from tensing and nodded against Michael's head.

“Perfectly”, he assured him, hugging him to keep him from looking at him.

He wanted to convince himself that, among so many bad things that had happened to him in life, detox or would be among the worst.

/////

It turned out that falling into drugs and even getting them afterward was easier than recovery itself.

It had only been five days and Trevor felt like he was going to collapse at any moment or he would end up going to Sandy Shores to get his hands on a meth farm and use whatever he could find. He didn't care that it wasn't quality drugs like his was, his body was crying out for a fix.

The medication temporarily relieved the more physically painful symptoms, but much of the psychological ones were still overwhelming. All he could think about when he went to bed and woke up was the desire to use, not for the twisted pleasure or false sense of happiness, but to relieve anxiety and general discomfort.

The third night was the most complicated. Trevor woke up coughing and feeling his face sticky against the pillow. Touching his forehead, he realized he was sweating profusely. The worst came when a violent bout of nausea, much like he had after inhaling gasoline, attacked him. He jumped out of bed and rushed to the bathroom. He didn't even notice that Michael had woken up and was asking him, alarmed, what was wrong. Trevor managed to drop down in front of the toilet just in time. He began to vomit up what he had eaten that day. His stomach twisted violently and the smell that reached his nose made him vomit once again.

After eliminating everything he put up from inside him, he held on to the toilet for a moment, feeling dizzy at the thought of standing up. It used to often happen to him that when he stood up he would get dizzy, but he never got to the point where he felt like the walls would fall on him or that the floor was turning over.

Michael came in with a damp cloth and used it to wipe his lips. Trevor didn't even have the strength to try to take it and do it himself. As soon as he felt relatively better, he asked Michael for help getting back into bed. Of course, his boyfriend asked him what was wrong and Trevor found a quick way out by telling him it must have been something he ate; it wouldn't be the first time.

Trevor waited for Michael to fall asleep so he could take a pill. The medication was making him excessively sleepy, similar to what he suffered from when he stopped using cold turkey. Other than that, the vomiting and hyperhidrosis, Trevor had not experienced any worse adverse effects.

Inwardly, he hoped that things would stay the same. If so, he could control it.

Too bad that on that fifth day, while Michael was out, Trevor felt everything around him falling apart. His head felt like it was being hit from the inside with a hammer and his body glistened with sweat. His muscles felt heavy and stiff.

As best he could, he got out of bed, stripped off his clothes and rushed to the shower. He turned on the hot water faucet and stood under the stream for quite a while, hoping that it would relieve some of the pain he was suffering.

Trevor knew it was to be expected. Years of use weren't going to go away or be easy to treat overnight.

He came out of the bathroom barely feeling relieved. His body felt less sore, but the anxiety was still stuck in his chest, ready to manifest itself as soon as it had the chance and remind him of the agony of coming off drugs.

Feeling he couldn't be alone, he called Franklin and asked, almost begged, to meet. He needed to get out and keep Michael from finding him in such a miserable state. As soon as he cut the call, the weight of guilt made him want to vomit as much as the withdrawal itself. Had he really just told the boy to help him with his problem? Franklin wasn't supposed to carry his burdens. He didn't have to.

Still, Trevor managed to change into clean clothes, put the pillbox in his pocket in case he was out longer than he thought, and get out of the mansion. Driving wasn't as much of a torture as being cooped up was. To tell the truth, seeing the sun and doing something other than lying down helped his mind calm down.

Franklin was waiting for him on the beach near Michael's psychiatrist's office. It was a remote spot, but Trevor needed him urgently. Since Michael had been 'discharged', he didn't frequent that area as much and if he had gone to Solomon's study, the chance of them crossing paths was slim.

Trevor saw the boy sitting on one of the benches with two bottles of soda. When he saw him, Franklin shot him a look laden with sympathy and held out both bottles.

“Sugar can help. It won't be the same as the shit from before, but maybe it'll help you be a little calmer”.

Trevor thanked him and in less time than expected drank one of the two bottles. He felt a little better, really; the kid sure was smart.

“I'll ask a silly question, how are you?”.

“...I don't know”, Trevor replied, stunned. “At times...I feel like my heart is going to stop and I keep telling myself it's my own body fighting the lack of drugs, that helps, briefly. And then, it's like my body isn't mine”.

“Like you're someone else?”, inquired Franklin.

“Yeah. I've never felt so...like that”, Trevor replied, not knowing what word to use. He clenched the empty bottle as his hands began to shake. “I don't know how to go on, besides taking the medication, I don't know what I'm going to do with what I have at Sandy Shores... I don't know how I'm going to tell Michael!”.

“Okay. For starters, you should spend your time doing something else, exercising, going for a walk in the daylight, anything to keep your mind off the desire to put shit in your body”, Franklin pointed out. “Believe me, I have experience with colleagues who have dealt with fucked up addictions”.

Trevor listened to Franklin's recommendations and made a mental list of what he could do in solitude. There were things Michael would notice from minute one and one of them would be that Trevor would stop frequenting Sandy Shores. If Trevor wanted to get better, he had to stay away from anything that included drugs and that included the business with Ron and Chef.

“Frank, I'm sorry I called you about this”, Trevor muttered, running a hand through his short hair. “Fuck, I must look pathetic”, he laughed, without any encouragement.

Franklin tapped him on the arm to get his attention.

“None of that, dog. I'm happy to see you take this step and get away from drugs and I know Michael will be when he finds out. You know that, if at any time you need to talk, I'm here”.

Trevor was relieved to have the boy, but he didn't want to keep burdening him with his problems. So much for asking him in the midst of his desperation to meet. They talked about anything and everything for an hour before they each went their separate ways.

Trevor wandered around the city until he lost count and track of time. He didn't notice Michael's messages asking him if he was still at the mansion or if he had left.

When he arrived at the mansion, he had a terrible headache. He wasn't sure if it was from the withdrawal itself or the medication. He went to the living room, lay down on the couch, put on a random program and covered his eyes with one arm, exhausted.

Michael arrived shortly after Trevor. He found him in the living room, dozing and covering his eyes.

“Trevor, what's wrong, are you okay?”, asked Michael, resting a hand on his arm.

“Migraine", Trevor replied, with a grunt. “Do you have aspirin?”.

“I think so. Wait”.

Trevor heard him walk away and the subsequent sound of drawers being handled. After a minute, Michael returned with a pill and a glass of water. Trevor sat up and took the pill and the glass of water.

“Thank you”, he said quietly.

“You've never been this sick”, Michael pointed out.

“It's nothing”, Trevor said. “Lie down with me”, he requested.

Michael nodded, took off his coat and lay down next to Trevor, clinging to his body. In a casually affectionate gesture, he ran a hand down Trevor's cheek and noticed one thing.

“T, you're burning up!”, exclaimed Michael.

“I didn't notice”, Trevor half-lied. The headache had kept him from noticing the fever. “It's not...”.

“Don't you dare tell me it's nothing,” Michael spat. He got up and went to the kitchen. He returned shortly with a cold cloth and pressed it against Trevor's forehead. “What's happening to you, what are you up to now?”.

If he hadn't felt so weakened, Trevor would have stood up and told him to stop questioning him about it.

The angry thought about Michael's intrusion soon turned to guilt. He was asking because he was worried, not because he wanted to control him, and Trevor knew it.

He wasn't sure how long he would last without knowing.

/////

A few days later, almost two weeks later, Trevor was feeling relatively better. He was no longer throwing up everything he ate or suffering from such violent headaches, but his mind still felt frazzled. In the mornings, it was hard to get out of bed and do anything in his day to keep from thinking bad thoughts, and the rest of the afternoon, he felt pretty groggy. The medication caused him to feel drowsy most of the time and lacked the energy to even think about exercising or any activity that would help him not succumb to miserable moods.

As if that wasn't enough, Michael had begun to get out of the mansion less. Trevor could hear him making excuses with Solomon for not going to the studio and with Franklin for not going out drinking, unless the three of them went out together. Nor was it easy to evade questions about his reasons for not drinking alcohol or smoking anything.

Trevor had the feeling, on a couple of occasions, that Franklin was about to tell Michael the truth, but his promise must have prevented him from saying too much. 

The days had been wearing, but he had made it through. Perhaps it was best if he talked to Michael about it. It was clear that his boyfriend was suspicious and, knowing him, he must think Trevor was going down a new path of total self-destruction.

Trevor decided to ask him to go out for the night in Michael's car. He told him to drive down to the beach. Lately, Trevor found a certain comfort in that place, even if the idea of getting in the water or taking walks along the shore didn't appeal to him.

Michael parked in a secluded spot, away from the few cars there, and turned off the engine.

“Do you want to get out or...?”, asked Michael.

“Not really”, Trevor replied. “I just...didn't want to be cooped up anymore”.

Michael sighed and was the first to start the talk.

“Trevor”, he said, in the same tone he used when a situation, instead of angering or exasperating him, distressed him, ”help me understand what's wrong with you”.

Trevor kept looking straight ahead. His right hand remained in his pocket, where he kept the pill box with his remaining doses until he returned to the doctor's office.

He didn't know how to put it in simple words or what to ask Michael to get him to minimally extend the inevitable, because he knew it wasn't worth trying. 

Resigned and trying not to imagine how it could all end, he pulled the pillbox out of his pocket and held it out to Michael. It was unlabeled, so Michael couldn't tell what the pills were.

“It's not what you're thinking”, Trevor anticipated, noticing Michael's dismayed look. “I'm not addicted to pharmaceuticals. On the contrary, they're for...treating addiction”.

Michael held the pill up, unsure whether to hand it back to Trevor or inspect it as if that would answer one of the thousands of questions he had.

“You...When...How...?”.

In other circumstances, Trevor would have laughed to see Michael struggling to find the right words. 

“I started almost two weeks ago”, Trevor explained, dropping his hands limp in his lap. “Frank is aware, I asked him to come with me because I knew if I went alone...I'd make my own”.

“But...why didn't you tell me?”, asked Michael quietly and Trevor hated to hear the pain in his voice. And he hated being the one who caused it.

“I didn't know how I was going to cope, if I could go on or if I'd end up sending it all to shit again”, Trevor replied. “I didn't want to worry you or make you suffer through my withdrawal”.

Michael clicked his tongue and put down the pillbox.

“And you didn't think if you told me, I could have helped you cope better? Fuck, T, I'm no shrink, but... I don't know, I could have been there or looked for ways to ease your discomfort”.

Trevor exhaled rather harshly and Michael realized that reproaches would get them nowhere.

“Why did you decide to start treatment? You didn't seem to care about using before”.

Trevor bit his lower lip and rubbed his right thigh. It was time.

“A few days before I went to the consultation, I went to Sandy Shores, Ron and Chef needed help with some business stuff and useless Ron was too nervous to talk to potential clients. I remember it was...noon, maybe. I was in the trailer wasting away when Ron walked in. I couldn't even yell at him to shut up and leave me alone because...”.

Trevor exhaled softly, pondering which way he should tell Michael the truth.

“What, Trevor? What happened at Sandy Shores?”, inquired Michael.

“I lost consciousness for a moment. When I recovered, Ron was holding me on my side and was yelling for Chef to help me”.

“You blacked out?”.

“I convulsed, Mike”.

Michael stepped back and his gaze was completely transformed when the impact came. Trevor, for his part, remained very calm; even he had to admit to himself that it was strange to remain impassive.

“What...did you suffer a seizure? Did you even go to the emergency room?!”.

“No, I didn't”, Trevor sighed again. “Chef tried to convince me to seek medical attention”.

“Yes, you should have”, Michael spat, accusingly. “T, you suffered a fucking overdose seizure! What if you'd smashed your head on the floor or suffered a heart attack? Really, you expected me not to worry or think the worst?”.

Michael ran a hand over his face sharply.

“Damn it, Trevor, what if you'd suffered another one when you got home? How could you not tell me your intake got to that point? Why did you keep it from me that you were in treatment?!”.

“Because it's not fucking easy to have to accept it, Michael!”, vociferated Trevor. “You saw how I've been through withdrawal these past two weeks! You think it would be easy to look you in the eye and tell you what happened to me?”.

“So, what, you had to wait for me to see you convulse again or have a heart attack?”.

Jointly, both men realized they were getting too upset. If they ended up fighting, they would get nowhere. Michael took a deep breath and told himself this was not the time for complaints.

“I'm sorry, I'm... God, T”, looking out the window, Michael let out a sarcastic chuckle, which seemed to cover a weak sob. “I didn't realize you were...”.

“Because I didn't want you to know”, Trevor clarified.

“We're dating, Trevor. We're supposed to trust each other”.

“And, believe it or not, I do trust you, Mikey. To some extent, I didn't trust myself to do this”.

Michael turned to him and the regret Trevor saw in the eyes he loved so much broke his heart.

“T, I swear if I had realized...”, Michael started to say.

“Hey”, Trevor interrupted him, resting his hand on Michael's, "don't feel bad about this. It was my decision to hide it until I was sure I could go through with the treatment. Now that you know, we can handle it together”.

Michael gave a sad smile and squeezed Trevor's hand.

"When are you due back for your consultation?”.

“In two days”.

“Okay, I'll go with you”, Michael stated, leaving no room for protest. “I'll tell the doctor to tell me how to help you”.

Trevor smiled, grabbed Michael by the shoulders and pulled him to him to kiss him. It was a gentle gesture, charged with a comforting warmth that made the sorrows forgotten for a moment. Trevor hugged Michael when he was about to pull away and Michael buried his face in his boyfriend's neck. The grip was a little awkward inside the car, but neither cared too much.

It would be a long road, there was no doubt about it, but Trevor was happy to have the support of two of the people he cared about most.

full team finished!