Madness of Two- MorMor + Severich

I'm in love with my own sins

Richard Moriarty, known to all else as Richard Brook, is a rather fantastic man. Superficially: rational, in control, intelligent, quick to help, to fix things, always knows the right things to say. Internally: completely broken, anxious, an over thinker, the same level of suicidal as his twin is homicidal. Fundamentally: kind, selfless, lovely, beautiful beautiful beautiful. He has a dog, an ashy grey Irish wolfhound, affectionately named Jabba the Mutt because of how shaggy he looks. Jabba, Jabs, Jabby, is the loveliest dog I've ever met, always wanting a cuddle, always laying his head on your knee when he senses you're sad, and over the moon whenever anyone walks through the door. Richard, bless him, rescued Jabs from the streets when he was pup, saving him from a life as a stray. They're pretty much inseparable. Despite being humongous, Jabs can always be found by Richard's side, usually on top of him on the sofa as he reads. He's so much more affectionate with that dog than he is with any person, and I reckon the cute little fella is helping Rich with his touch issues, as well as all his other issues. Like a therapy animal.

Richard needs to fix things, to save things (like stray dogs), because he's trying vicariously to save himself, because he feels like if he can give life to other things then he's worthy of being alive. It's not true; he deserves the world, and doesn't need to prove that. His value isn't measured by how much he does for other people. I wish I could tell him that. No- I wish I could make him believe that. Having said that, he's done so much for me. I literally owe him my life. I've tried to express that sentiment to him many times, but he always shakes his head and dismisses my gratitude, seeming embarrassed at the comment.

"Honestly, Sev, I didn't do anything any idiot that knows the simplest thing about CPR couldn't have done," he insisted, not meeting my eye.

"No, Rich, that's bullshit. Seb told me how good you were. You knew what to do. And... and I'm so sorry I made you do that. I-I'm not sure I deserved your care, given I really fucked myself..." I admitted guiltily, looking down to hide the tears that glazed my eyes. Honestly, the memory of those days following my overdose make me feel so shitty about myself. Burden burden burden should've killed you in Afghanistan. Didn't deserve to get saved. Should be dead. Those are the feelings I block out by stubbing out cigarettes on my skin, wincing and taking in a hissing breath. I focus on the physical pain, so the emotional is secondary. Physical pain is so much easier to deal with.

"No," Richard said quickly. "No, Severin. Drug addiction is no one's fault, okay? You're not to blame. Especially... especially given what you've been through." He's always cautious bringing all that up, knowing how badly I'm traumatised it. The reality is, I actually don't remember an awful lot about the whole ordeal. I was so malnourished, dehydrated, in so much pain, usually having some sort of infection from my wounds, bleeding, delirious, that days blended into one another and faded away. I don't know if I was just unconscious for quite a fair bit of it, or my brain has blocked it out to spare me the emotional pain. Though I remember enough to fill my sleep with ungodly horrors, enough to take me jump at every loud noise, enough to make me want to blow my head off instead of having to think about it for one second longer. I'm too much of a coward to do that, so I stuff myself full of heroin to forget instead! I'm so good at coping with difficult emotions! (I'm in therapy for those things, and on so many drugs- prescribed ones, scout's honour!)

"That's no excuse." I sighed shakily, rubbing the tears from my eyes. "It wasn't fair of me to put everyone through that shit."

Richard walked over to me then, sitting on my side of the sofa. Usually he keeps his distance, terrified of touch (something I picked up on quickly), but he actually put his hand over mine, hesitating at first, tense, but pushing aside all that for me. For me. Beautiful, selfless Richard...

"Look, Sevvy," Sevvy. "we're all allowed to make mistakes. You're not defined by your mistakes, you're defined by how you learn from them. You've been clean for so long now, and I'm really proud of you. It's been difficult. And you should be proud of yourself..." he told me gently, alternating between looking at our hands and into my eyes.