Mascara bleed in my eye | edan (April 04)

Azalea had come faster than a golden snitch when Edan had written her he hadn't been well. Over the past month, she watched his state of well-being decline alarmingly quick. She'd seen home when time would allow and immediately knew something significant had happened in his life. Azalea already fretted about his health before. Now that she got to take a good long look at him, she rested he hadn't been eating or sleeping like he should with only alcohol and who knows what other harmful substances he was putting into his body just to make it to the next day.

The witch had apparated to his doorstep and let herself in without waiting for a proper greeting and to be invited in. She set her bags down in the kitchen, retrieved a glass of water, and sought out Edan. "Hey, cuz," she spoke soothingly as she rubbed placed a kiss on his cheek and sat beside him. She placed the cup of water nearest to him and took the time to remove anything else he could possibly put into his system. He was in some urgent need of sleep, food, water, a long shower, and a clean shave. Her eyebrows furrowed together the longer she looked at him.

Though she didn't know what was wrong, she ached to see him in such a state. She was all too familiar with his condition-having been here herself on many occasions. Edan had always been the one to nurse her back and get her up on her feet again. She was determined to show him just as much love and care. Of course, she'd come for him. Anything he needed, she was here for it.

@Edan Reed

March 27, 2004. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, stewing, and aching. He remembered the look on Leoline’s face before he fell, and didn’t think he would ever forget looking into those lifeless eyes as he proceeded, without hope, to give the boy compressions and rescue breaths. It was the last time he would remember his mouth on Leoline’s, and he ached to think that it ended like that. He didn’t plan to kiss Leo ever again, really, not since he had started into his relationship with Jimin, but he didn’t want the last time their mouths touched to be when Leoline was lifeless beneath him. He was having nightmares, still, seeing the other’s face and dreaming that Leoline’s ghost was accusing Edan of killing him. 
 
He was drunk, now, and a little high on a few sips of a potion called Bliss. It was what it said on the tin, as addictive as heroin just a little less messy. He hadn’t taken potions in a long time and, despite the overdoses of his friends, he needed something to numb the pain. He was careful to not take a full dose, despite himself. The others hadn’t seemed to have taken more than usual, yet Rosaline and Basil had nearly died, too. It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. Even so, Edan needed the edge off.  
 
He had written Azalea when he was more lucid than he was now, but hadn’t expected her to come so swiftly. He expected to have more time to sulk and wallow by himself, but when she let herself in and came over to his armchair, he was a little too dazed to be surprised. She quickly removed the potion vial and the half-drank bottle of firewhisky from his side table, and replaced it with a glass of water. Despite not wanting to lose his buzz, he took the water and sipped it down.  
 
He had not been taking care of himself much the past few weeks. He needed a shave and a shower. He needed calories that didn’t come from a bottle. He needed restful sleep. He sighed, feeling ashamed to have been seen in such a state. He had even been avoiding Jimin to some extent, not wanting his new boyfriend to worry about his health or why he was feeling so down. He didn’t know how to tell him about Leoline at all. He was ashamed of everything—from their relationship to the way Leo died. 
 
“You’re much faster than I thought you’d be.” He admitted. “How did you get in? You know where I hide the spare?” He teased, despite himself. He was a little loopy. It was clear he was not sober, though the vial and the liquor had suggested as much regardless. He let out a sigh, sobering a little as a wave of misery washed over him again. A wave of guilt and grief. He sighed again, looking up at her. 
 
“It was my fault.” He admitted, not explaining what he had done. “It was all my fault, and I’m so stupid.” 

Azalea sat on his couch closest to him. Upon him inquiring of how she got in, the young woman's first reaction was to make a joke that she was his favorite cousin and knew everything about him, like his habits and tricks he probably picked up on while working in the ministry. One of those habits being how and where he hid the spare key. She bit her tongue though and sat in silence as she waited for him to continue.

His gestures put her off. She was almost startled to hear him blame himself for something he probably had no control over. What was he guilty for? Hearing his words cut deeply into her. Azalea had said words like those not so long ago. A part of her knew what it felt like to have guilt eat from the inside-out. Something terrible had happened to him and she wasn't even aware of what. Or when! Then again, did he know of hers? No-not fully. But he still loved her and cared for her when she needed it.

Her demeanor changed. She wasn't frantic and casual, but sincere and aware of what was unfolding in front of her. Instead of attempting to reassure that he wasn't at fault, she figured it would've been best to inquire what he had done wrong and the events leading up to such chaos. Telling someone they weren't to blame never out their minds at ease. It only made them evaluate their circumstances more for the plot holes and questions that would feed their guilt. It wasn't an act of self-pity. It was how people came to terms with whatever tragedies had happened to them.

"Edan," her tone was stern, yet gentle. Slowly, carefully, she placed her hand on top of his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "What happened? What did you do?" Azalea loved her cousin. He was one of her closest friends and family members. Sometimes, she truly believed they connected so we'll based off of the sheer fact that their lives were like storms always overwhelming and leaving disaster in it's wake. The two had more in common than they knew. "You can tell me. I'm here for you."