Fic: RunAway - XXXIV. Help

[silentdescant]

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Chapter Title: Help

Chapter Summary: Hans confronts Dom
A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay! My computer was offline for a while and I couldn't even access the files. :(

“Dominic!” Hans shouted, startling Dom out of his daze. He shook off the fog and went to see what Hans was yelling about.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I’ve been calling you on your mobile. What have you been doing?” Hans waved his arms in frustration.

 

“Sorry, it must’ve been off or something. Did you need me?”

 

“Yes! God, Dominic, you can’t laze around not doing anything here. You have a job, and you need to do what’s required of you. And that means helping me unload the sets for the show tomorrow.”

 

Dom shrugged innocently, ignoring (or not noticing) Hans’ frustrated expression.

 

***

 

The third day this happens, Hans pulled Dom aside. “Are you on something, Nick?” he asked harshly, his fingers digging into Dom’s bicep.

 

“Fucking hell, Hans…” Dom sighed wearily.

 

“Oh God, you are.”

 

“So what? It’s my bloody life, innit?” Dom tried to yank his arm out of Hans’ hold, but didn’t have the determination to pull away from his friend.

 

“You’re bloody screwing it up. You can’t keep living like this; it’s not really living at all. And you know it,” Hans added.

 

“I’m buggering up my life, I know that—”

 

“So why don’t you stop?”

 

“Because I can’t,” Dom spat, finally jerking out of Hans’ grip. “Leave me alone, Hans.”

 

***

 

“This is your fault,” Hans said roughly, punctuating his statement with a poke to Wes’ shoulder.

 

“My fault? What the hell are you on about?”

 

“I told you not to let him drink! Not to let him out of your sight! So what did you do? You bloody sent him off with a fucking crack whore!”

 

“Excuse me, but, my fault? Nick’s a grown man. And how was I supposed to know she was giving him drugs?” Wes protested.

 

“He’s unstable. He shouldn’t have even been out with us that night. I shouldn’t have agreed to that.”

 

“Ah, see now it’s your fault. That’s more like it,” Wes said, grinning.

 

“Wesley, I swear to God…” Hans threatened in a low voice.

 

“Fine!” Wes interrupted, holding his hands up in defeat. “So what’re you going to do, stage an intervention?”

 

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, and you’re going to help me.”

 

“Hans… You know that I do get high occasionally, right? That I’m not really the best person to preach sobriety?”

 

“‘Do as I say and not as I do,’ right?” Hans replied, shrugging.

 

***

 

Dom knew they were coming, and had left the door unlocked for them. Hans looked suspiciously at the door handle, but Wes just shrugged and barged into Dom’s flat.

 

“Dominic, where are you? Hans wants to beat the living crap out of you.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“I’m right here. You guys are so subtle,” Dom said sarcastically. “Okay, say what you need to say and be done with it.”

 

“We don’t think you should be—"

 

“He doesn’t,” Wes interrupted smoothly. “I really couldn’t care less if you’re high as a kite, Nicky.”

 

“Fine. But while you’re working, you’ve got to be on time, alert, and sober. I really don’t think whatever it is you’re taking is good for you right now, Nick.”

 

Dom nodded. “It was cocaine. But I’m off it now. I’ve run out.”

 

Hans smiled, and Wes smirked.

 

“I’m not addicted. Really, I’m not. I just thought…”

 

“It’s alright, Nicky,” Hans soothed, pulling Dom into a one-armed hug. “I just don’t like you hurting.”

 

“You didn’t even need me here after all,” Wes sighed. “I’ll just be going then. I’m meeting Ericka for drinks if you want to tag along.” He grinned wickedly at Hans before adding, “We could pick up Geoff on the way.”

 

Hans whacked Wes on the shoulder, smiling anyway. Dom quirked his lips in a half-smile, but said that he’d rather be alone. After studying Dom carefully for several moments, Hans nodded and motioned for Wes to leave.

 

“I’m worried about you, Dominic,” he said softly after the door clicked shut.

 

“I’ll be fine. It won’t happen again.” Hans raised an eyebrow at him. “I’m not addicted.”

 

“I guess that’s enough.”

 

Once again alone in his apartment, Dom sighed heavily and sank down onto the couch. “I’m not addicted,” he whispered. Then, more firmly, “I’m not. I’m not.”

Next: Low