Flip Side

Chapter 7: Between The Bars

CONTENT WARNING: Drug abuse, dissociation, PTSD, emetophobia.

Big turning point in the Selever and Julius plotlines in this chapter. Song is Between the Bars, originally written by Elliott Smith and performed by Chris Garneau.

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Another night, another bar.

He drank moodily from his bourbon, ice rattling while his hands shook from his jitters. He still hadn't seen Milly around. He wondered where his secretary had gone to. Maybe she had abandoned him too.

The panicked texts from his mother had stopped earlier that week. He hadn't checked his Tiktok or his Instagram and frankly didn't want to. Both made him sick to his stomach.

He downed the last of his drink and pushed into the crowd jumping in time to the pulsating rhythm from the DJ. His body was moving on its own, his mind fuzzy and floating. His life felt like a bad movie nowadays. He didn't even feel like it was really him. Was this what people called dissociation? Fuck if he knew.

He was in a crowd full of people, but he'd never felt so fucking alone.

Blink.

He was in the bathroom of the club, throwing up liquid into the sink. He vaguely noticed he should have had something solid in him. But he hadn't actually eaten in days; all that he'd had in his system was blow and liquor. He turned on the tap, watched the swirling water, and then forced himself to look in the mirror.

He didn't recognize the face looking back at him. Dark circles rimmed dull eyes, lank and greasy hair framed his face. At some point he'd lost his hair tie. He nearly recoiled at the hollows under his cheekbones, the sallowness of his skin. Fuck, he looked like a mess.

Sel buried his face in his hands and felt his chest hitch with a sob. He was so fucked up from what happened when he was just a stupid kid. He hated this perpetually youthful body, forever seventeen with an aging mind. He'd already begun hating himself, the way he tried to drown everything in parties, drugs, drink, and endless bodies in his bed. It wasn't enough. It was never enough.

His parents were worried. His sister barely spoke to him anymore. And as he wiped his face and stared into the cracked and filthy mirror of the club bathroom, he came to a decision. No more.

He straightened his jacket. Ran a shaking hand through his hair. Thumbed his nose. And he exited the bathroom to run into a broad chest and familiar red eyes.

"You look like shit, Sel."

Selever stepped back. "J-Julius? What are you doing here?"

Julius had barely changed since they were teenagers in Catholic school. He stood at an equal height with him, his pitch-black horns hidden to humans but clear to anyone else with demon blood. His pale skin contrasted sharply with his dark hair, the red of his eyes hidden as he sighed deeply and stubbed out his cigarette. Selever idly noticed he still wore his medallion necklace, though he'd graduated from the eboy clothes to a stylish pair of black slacks and an untucked dress shirt crisp and white as fresh snow.

Julius looked good. He certainly didn't look like he'd been surviving off drugs and drink, each rib able to be counted when he looked in the mirror.

Julius crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, giving him the once-over. "Your sister called me up. What the fuck are you doing, man? This ain't you."

Selever rubbed his face. "Ras was fucking right. There, I said it! She's right that I can't keep doing this, I can't keep partying and drinking and running on blow!" He collapsed to his knees, feeling every one of his twenty-six years of life. "I need help, Julius. I need it bad."

Julius gave him a level stare, eyes unreadable, mouth set in a firm line. He pushed off the wall and gave his old friend another once over. Selever knew what he saw: the gauntness of his face, the way his clothes hung off his body, the dullness of his skin and hair, the way his eyes were bloodshot. He'd noticed it in the mirror in the bathroom, finally really looked at what his choices were doing to him. Was it any wonder why his parents were concerned, why his sister was disgusted? His shoulders slumped in defeat. He didn't know if he could stand it if Julius looked at him and decided he wasn't worth it.

"I'm moving in. I'm not gonna leave you here, not like this. And I'm sure as hell not leaving you alone in that den of sin you call a penthouse." Julius knelt down and helped him off the ground, and Selever clung to him. And as he breathed in the familiar scent of cigarettes, vanilla, and linen, felt himself being steered through the crowd and out into the chill of the night air, heard the rumble of Julius' voice as he hailed a town car with his phone, he felt for the first time in years that the jagged edges of his soul were coming together.

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Julius gave them the mumbled address he'd gotten from Selever, dragged his friend into the back of the town car, dragged him back out at the back entrance of Infamy. He pressed the buzzer and nearly jumped out of his skin when the door was wrenched open and a terrifying petite woman in black and white appeared.

"Oh thank god, finally someone brought him back. He's been on a bender for two weeks."

She grasped Selever's other arm in a manicured grip and swung it over her shoulders, deceptively strong despite her diminutive size. "I'm Millicent by the way. I'm Mr. Morningstar's secretary."

"Julius. Childhood friend."

She smiled tightly at him. "And here I thought that he didn't have friends, only one night stands."

They said nothing as they got him into the elevator and she scanned a keycard for the penthouse. Said nothing as they rode up, and exited into the gloom of the living area. Julius' first impression was that it was clean; surprising, since most junkies just wallowed in their own filth. Millicent gave him a sidelong look.

"I have a good cleaning team come by every week. Mr. Morningstar is a slob on his own, so we pay good money for maids."

Julius nodded. "Let's get him in bed. He can shower in the morning."

As they dumped Selever on the bed Julius looked around. Everything was undoubtedly expensive, but the place looked practically unlived-in. It had a cold, clinical feel despite the sumptuous decor. He rubbed his arms. It felt like a tomb.

"Horrifying, isn't it?"

He whipped his head over to Millicent, who had moved to the window showing a glorious view of the city skyline. She had her arms crossed over an ample chest, beautiful in her severity and sharp black bob. Julius sighed and walked over.

"This apartment costs more than my house, and yet it feels like somewhere someone would hold a wake." Millicent took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "He's always been a bit unstable. But after his and his sister's birthdays he's been completely off the rails, I try my best but he disappeared for weeks and I have to hold down the fort when he's not around."

Julius chuckled and opened the glass door before lighting up a cigarette. "Classic Sel. Leaving someone else to cover for him while he goes causing trouble. Can't tell you how often I was getting us out of scrapes back in high school."

He exhaled smoke into the smog of LA, and sighed. "Go home. I'll take care of him until the morning and we can see about getting him into rehab or something. The devil knows the press will probably be on his case or some shit."

Millicent laughed half-heartedly. "Don't I know that. It's been never-ending." She turned on one sensible heel and made her way to the elevator, before turning to look back.

"If you are his childhood friend, it's a good time to be around. He's going to need all the friends he can get."

She stepped in through the doors and disappeared. Julius took another draw on his cig.

"Yeah. Yeah I know."

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See you next week! :)