FIXATION

Rags [continuation]

The argument had been going on for three days after Raguel was let out of the hospital. Even in the car with Theodore behind the wheel and Raguel pouting beside him.

"I'm not debating over this. You fucking died, you're going to rehab!"

"What if I say no no no?"

"You're not Amy Winehouse so shut the fuck up."

Rags sighed, lowering himself in the car seat and Theo tossed his glance over at him briefly. "Raguel, I'm trying to help," he said softly. "Clearly I can't do that on my own. And it's not like you'll be there forever, and no one even needs to know. It's for-"

"For my own good, yeah... I know. I'm just mad at myself for fucking up this much..."

"Hey come on now, it wasn't all your fault. If it weren't for Luca, or Zach, you would never have gotten into the mess."

Rags was quiet for a while, staring glumly ahead of them at the blue road, the wet mist vignetting the landscape around them. The cold whipped through the thin glass of the window, crawling through Raguel's cheek when he rested against it, and he subconsciously shrunk further into Theodore's coat. "When's her funeral?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "They haven't even found her family yet."

Raguel looked down through his foggy glasses. "I didn't even know her surname."

"Don't sound so sorry for her," Theo hissed softly. "Luca got what was coming to her - she chose to take too much of that shit."

"So did I. Did I deserve to die?"

"Rags..."

"I'm serious, Theo. I didn't have to start smoking, I didn't have to start taking whatever the fuck it was I was taking, I didn't have to do any of that shit, but I did and, fuck, maybe I should've died."

"Don't say that." The car halted abruptly at the red light glaring teary-eyed at them through the mist. Theo's angry hair whipped as he turned his head to Raguel, reaching over and making him look at him, holding his chin. "If you were supposed to die – you would've. You lived for a reason."

"What reason?" His eyes were empty, filled not even with the reflection of Theodore, cloudy compared to his glasses, while Theodore's were a kaleidoscope of red and blue rain drops, some drops racing down, but making it no further than his waterline.

"Me," he said shakily. "Your mom. Lola. We need you, Rags, we love and want you – isn't that a reason to live?"

"So, I shouldn't die, because life's easier for you with me around? Isn't that selfish?"

"And ending your life, in turn devastating ours, isn't?"

The red turned green and the conversation dropped, along with the hand holding Raguel's chin, which now turned back to face the window.

In the foyer, after Theodore had spoken with the staff about the facility, he turned to Raguel.

"I don't want you to leave..."

"I'm sorry, Rags. I'll come visit as often as I can, and you'll be out before you know it." He held his hand gently, rubbing over his cold knuckles and whispering, "If you really don't want to do this..."

"No, I do." He squeezed his hand. "I should. Logically, I know this is the best option." He looked up, smiling a bit through his glasses. "Thank you."

Theo's embrace was warm as always, and the sincere, brief goodbyes passed in silence between them, followed by a cold car ride home, and an empty apartment for Theodore to walk into, save for Sir Montgomery, who was asleep on the bed, cuddled up on top of one of Raguel's shirts.