the darkness inside us ; multiship

twenty five

trigger warning - anxiety, mentions of abuse, mentions of rape, suicide, and panic attacks

Jaime grabs him and Vic lets his body go limp. He buries his face in Jaime's shoulder and wraps his arms around his waist.

"Fuck Vic, how longsit been? Five years? Lemme look at you, fuck. Y'look so good..."

Jaime steps back and holds him at arm's length, and Vic laughs despite the tears running down his cheeks. "Your jacket's ruined, sorry."

Jaime rolls his eyes. "No big deal. There'll be others." He drops his gaze to the ground, kicking at a pebble. "Never was another you, though..."

Vic swallows. Jaime and Tony were the big brothers. The protectors. They had some influence in the gang but they were the only two with a semblance of humanity left. The only two who still looked at people as people and not drug-smuggling vessels. They moped up blood and wrapped bruises and stitched up skin and gave up any scraps of food they could find. There were days they didn't eat so Vic and Mike could. They were the only ones who cared.

"I'm sorry," Vic ventures, biting his lip. "I-I just...I couldn't do it anymore. It was too much. I needed...needed ta go..."

The gang would probably be happy to know his life didn't improve once he left. That terrible night, while that man was in him...all he could think about was how much better off he'd have been if he stayed. Things were shitty at the hideout but anything was better than feeling so violated, so dirty and disgusting and used up. It took him so long to accept what happened to him. He doesn't think he'll ever be fully over it.

"No, I'm so glad you did," Jaime replies. "Vic, you don't...things got really bad, after you left. They were pissed. We looked for you for weeks. They-" His voice breaks and Vic's stomach sinks. "They wanted ta kill you, Vic. You...you betrayed us."

It's a punch to the stomach. It hurts so bad. He knows, he's known ever since that night what he did, but hearing Jaime say it makes it real and that pain is one of the worst he's ever felt. There's just so much of it, pressing down on him, overwhelming. "I didn't go to the cops, I promise," he says, holding his hands up in surrender. "I didn't want you guys to get in trouble. I just needed out."

"I don't blame you," Jaime mutters. "But Vic, you gotta understand...Mike...he's-he's not the same person he was when you left. Not even close."

"Wh-What?" Vic's voice catches in his throat. Jaime isn't looking at him. Jaime's eyes communicate his feelings and he isn't fucking looking at him. How bad could it possibly be?

"You should see for yourself," Jaime replies. He grabs his arm and fixes him with a cold stare. "Not a word in there. They probably don't remember you. Keep it that way, got it?"

Vic gulps and forces himself to nod. Jaime drags him forward, leading him through the forest. He navigates it expertly; he could do it blind, the result of too many late-night runs. They finally come to a stop at a large house, and that's when everything comes flooding back.

The anxiety, the panic, the feeling of helplessness and being on edge all the time...he feels the ball of it swell in his chest as he stares at the house. He grew up there. As shitty as things were, it'll always have a piece of his heart. He grew up there and he has to keep repeating it over and over in his head, reminding himself that this is familiar so his nausea stays at bay.

Jaime unlocks the door and leads him to the stairs. He catches the stares. All eyes fall to him and he squirms uncomfortably, trying to get Jaime to look at him without having to say his name.

The house looks just like he remembered. It's hard to forget. The furniture is rearranged and there are more holes in the walls, but otherwise, it's all the same. He doesn't know if that's good or bad. It's bringing him back to a myriad of times, bad mixed with good, and his head is spinning.