TOUCH | F. Hargreeves

15

TW!: Suicide - somewhat explicit

Beau could easily hold his alcohol when he had been drinking it excessively for most of his life. After developing an addiction at the young age of six years old to deal with everything, and also a way for his parents to shut him up, he had quite the tolerance. Both of his parents were clear alcoholics and drug addicts, most of his mothers were prescribed, however, and his father often took them to indulge himself. Beau's childhood household was the equivalent of 'first come first serve' but that didn't mean it was fair in the slightest.

Nothing about his parents were soft, caring or loving, they were selfish and Beau was never allowed to be the same. Maybe it was finally to do as he pleased and not worry about anyone else but, at the same time, he knew he never could. Because Beau was raised to be a caregiver, therapist and shoulder to lean on. Beau was made for the purpose of taking care of others.

Five was different, he always had been. He didn't need anyone to hold his sadness, to be listened to and certainly didn't need to be helped - or at least that was how he acted - because Five was independent and he knew what he wanted, he understood his emotions and his thoughts without Beau and that was something Beau didn't know he needed. For someone to want to be around him but not because they wanted something in return, Five was different.

He knew Five wanted Beau to tell him things, his past, why he had succumbed to trust issues and silent trauma that was much worse than before and how he could possibly have a wife when he didn't even let the Hargreeves siblings in. Most of it was kept secret, in the depths of Beau's mind where everyone knew it would probably stay for a very long time.

Rosie knew everything though. She understood Beau so well she could finish his sentences, complete a goal without being told to and hate someone before Beau had even told her of his dislike towards them. Rosie was intelligent, insightful, she had all the right words and all the right reactions. His wife was perfect, to put it bluntly.

Five had passed out minutes ago, leaving Beau to sit beside him with a deep frown ad haunting thoughts. It wasn't that Beau didn't like the kiss, he just felt it was very wrong of him to do. And no, it wasn't because he was homophobic against the community or himself, he didn't internalize any of that, but Beau just couldn't be with anyone else knowing he would only push them away. He had messed up, that much was clear, and he was just hoping Five was right in thinking he would forget their whole night, at least until he could piece everything together. 

Rosie was surely going to give him an earful after all of this.

Not long later an unconventional duo had finally found them, both confused at what they had found though one much more amused than the other. "Are they, um...?" Luther trailed off, eyeing a half-awake Beau and an unconscious Five.

Diego smirked and shook his head, "Drunk as skunks. Well, we can't go back to the house."

Beau raised an eyebrow at the pair, wondering what the hell they were doing and how they had found them, in a library no less. The sight of the pair wasn't a very welcoming one but he supposed if they hadn't arrived he would have to carry both Five and his mannequin girlfriend home and he definitely was not looking forward to that. 

"What the hell are you two up to?" Luther asked Beau accusingly as if it were all his fault Five was passed out beside him and not a shared agreement.

Beau glared, his head swaying slightly on his shoulders, "What does it look like? Wallowing in hopelessness and alcohol." 

The two sighed and grabbed the two from the ground, Luther lifting Five into his arms, forced to carry Dolores as well, while Diego got Beau to his feet and made him walk. Beau paid no mind to the hand squeezing his shoulder harshly, keeping him walking straight, or the accusing glares from the big guy, it meant nothing and he felt nothing too. It wasn't like any of that treatment was new.