Author Topic: all these ghosts — private ; and i still can't find a boo  (Read 716 times)

Offline demonaut

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When times were hard, Sebastian Castellanos could be found with flask in hand.

It had been a bottle, once-upon-a-time; before his partner Joseph Oda had seen it fit to report him to Internal Affairs, after some rouge unsolved cases that had left him particularly numb. Whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other, he drowned out the noise in his head with a thickly veiled drunkenness, and nursed the impeding hangovers with even more chain-smoking and impulsive drinking. Right now, walking into Krimson City Police Department after taking a heavy swig to drown out the white noise in his head, whispering to him about being presentable and a good father, he wanted nothing more to fall back on those days where nothing mattered except for what came in and out of his mouth. To sate the sleazy seductress that was alcoholism, he reached for his cigarettes instead, fishing a lighter out of his back pocket and settling down on the brick walls that made up his job's run-down little base.

Myra had sat him down last night after putting Lily to bed to explain to him what was going on - her eyes had been heavyset with disapproval, narrowed and squinty, but the brilliant blue he'd found so catching about her when he'd worked with her on their first case together - and her mouth had been drawn down into a tight frown whenever his hand brushed his hip, aching for the missing flask that always seemed to be on his person. Not this time. "We need to talk about what we're doing with Lily." she had said after a few seconds of glaring. "You love her. I know. But we both know what happens in these situations." he grunted at that, leaning back in his chair. Lazy. Calm. She was right, of course. Myra was always right; with her no nonsense attitude and her clean figure, she'd no doubt win custody over their child in a heartbeat.

"So I propose a ... an arrangement, of sorts. You need to get better before I'll let you take care of her.
Which means that you can't constantly be out every night, drinking away. And once we're divorced, you'll need to leave the house. For good. Find your own apartment, make a life for yourself. Then I'll consider the possibility of having joint custody. Until then ..."


Sebastian's cigarette grew weak, so he snuffed it out with the toe of his boot, before shuffling along inside the station.

"... You'll get to see her once a month, at the very least."
Gone 4/12/18 (never coming back lol) ~ kiss my conservative ass

Offline demistress

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Re: all these ghosts — private ; and i still can't find a boo
« Reply #1 on: October 16, 2017, 09:54:55 PM »
There was no word in the dictionary that could fathom the amount of guilt that weighed upon his conscience. He had done it for the good of his best friend—former friend, he supposes. He saw the hurt, the pain he was experiencing while miserably trying to suppress it with a bottle of Whiskey. He had enough of watching a dear friend slowly kill himself like the way his marriage was gradually burning out like a dying flame; so, he reported him to Internal Affairs. It was a bad idea, though he did it so he didn't see Sebastian drink himself into a coma. But, the moment he found out that they allowed him to slip past from under their noses without penalty... Why he almost lost it from the sheer frustration that shook him from the core. Were they out of their minds? Running his fingers through his black hair, he lifts up the mug beside his neatly compacted papers, pressing the rim to his lips and sipping at the hot, dark liquid. The bitter taste surges a burst of energy through him, perking him up enough to continue working without any distractions.

Funny how he wishes for no distractions.

Sebastian Castellanos walks through the doors of the station. Joseph only serves him a single glance, not expecting him to return so early, but the glimpse of a familiar face causes him to look up a second time, eyes widening. Inhaling a breath, he holds it for a second or two, fingers tightening around the loose fabric of his slacks. Keep your cool. He blows out a sigh, his face relaxing to the usually collected expression he wore and his shoulders lowering. "Sebastian," he hums, dipping his head toward him, movements stiff from the awkwardness of seeing his friend return after that whole fiasco. He clears his throat, worrying his lower lip for a moment or two. "Are you doing okay?"
« Last Edit: October 16, 2017, 09:57:27 PM by damnesne »
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Offline demonaut

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Re: all these ghosts — private ; and i still can't find a boo
« Reply #2 on: October 18, 2017, 07:35:25 PM »
Out of them both, Joseph had always been the one more phased about things - whereas Sebastian was kindly referred to as a burnt marshmallow by his young daughter ("Tough on the outside, gooey on the inside, daddy!"). If he could solve the issue that unfurled between him and his partner, he would, but his mouth remained firmly tight when it came to spurring the uplifting moments that normally occurred in cheesy romantic comedies. So he barely paid much attention to the colorful array of emotions scattering across Joseph's face like a box of crayons, instead choosing to give him a wide berth as he made his way to the coffee, preparing it with the familiarity of someone who'd been doing it for years. Though one could easily see the tension in the lines of his broad shoulders and the way he gripped the cup too tightly as he sipped on it, scalding. His tongue burned, and so did the roof of his mouth, but Joseph's presence made him refrain from lashing out at the fire that licked a tunnel in his pursed mouth.

"Have you always asked stupid questions, or is today my lucky day?" he nonchalantly replied. "Because I think I'm going to pass on being the stumbling genius today. I'm not in the mood to start turning in my partners to Internal Affairs."

Sebastian was acting like a child, but the betrayal of his partner still rooted itself in him like a permanent storm cloud, and he could not be blamed for letting it slip through him and into his choice of words. Internal Affairs had let him continue working with a gentle warning, which hadn't surprised him too much; they were a stingy group of adults that would rather laze about than do their jobs, but because he knew he had to take matters into his own hands after a moment of self-reflection, he settled on bringing his flask to work instead of two bottles of whiskey. Myra's misgivings of his ability to take care of himself appeared on the splendid evening that he was called into Internal Affairs, prompting him to go to some hold-your-hands and totally-bullshitting-you club for Alcoholics that sought recovery.  He still hadn't gone, but after Myra sent them a pretty email explaining their situation, they extended an olive branch for him anyways.

After blowing on his coffee gently, clutched in hands calloused from working in the field all these years, he peered at Joseph from above it without a care in the world, waiting for a response.
Gone 4/12/18 (never coming back lol) ~ kiss my conservative ass

Offline demistress

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Joseph is prone to revealing the conflicting emotions raging on the inside, but always quick to hide it behind the collected mask once the realization becomes clear that he must not be the one to lose his temper. He needs to keep a clear head or else his stoic partner will be encouraged to continue his violent antics. The detective's jaw clenches as former partner walks passed him as if he was nothing. What... He was still furious with him, wasn't he? How many times can a man apologize until it's accepted; this was ridiculous. Furrowing his eyebrows, he narrows his eyes at the older man, shoulders tensing as his arms crossed over his chest. "A simple 'no' would have sufficed, Sebastian," he huffs, staring him down just as he peers at him over his mug. He shakes his head, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose in slight irritation as he spins around to plop back into his seat. "I apologized - I was doing what I thought would be best for you because I'm a good friend. If you can't appreciate that, then... Then..." he trails off, fingers curling into his palm to form a tight fist.
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