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jazzykitten · 4 days
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The unsettling feeling of anxiety was taking over him. It was a sensation that Berlioz was all too familiar with. Familiar enough that the anxiousness he normally felt was almost comforting, in a sick and twisted way. Berlioz tossed back the rest of his drink before ordering another. His third, as he's already had one before the unwelcomed guest sat beside him at the busy bar. Berli just wanted to bolt out of there and go home at this point, but he felt stuck hence another drink. "When people get to your age they should be dead," Berlioz stated coldly. He felt that way for himself, at least. He couldn't imagine making it to fifty-five, or however old the man was now. "Yeah, interesting. You could say that," he scoffed and shook his head. He glanced back at the older man, his sad, dark eyes slightly hidden by the curtain of hair falling into his face. I'll leave if it makes you feel better. Would it? Or would Berlioz be left with a million questions already left unanswered? "Leaving seems to be something I'm well acquainted with when it comes to people disappearing into thin air," he spat with venom in his tone.
His eyes finally locked onto Thomas', slightly narrowed but still bloodshot with dilated pupils. "Yeah, well, that's what happens when you just up and leave your family. People grow older, clearly you have. It has been over ten years." His voice was bitter, with an underlying bit of hurt laced in it. He wondered how long Thomas had been in Evermore. Was it longer or less than Berlioz and his family had been there? In his mind Thomas had just up and left them one day, never to be seen again. Berlioz hadn't been prepared for the first blow of his father leaving when he was so young, but to have let his guard down and let it happen all over again...he felt like a fool. He wasn't quick to forgive or forget and the damage Thomas caused by abandoning them was one he could not forgive. His drink was set in front of him and he immediately took a long sip through the straw, the burning of the overzealous amount of alcohol welcomed in his throat. The boy takes a breath before exhaling, a few strands of hair blowing from his face only to fall back where they were over his eyes. "I don't know what you're expecting, Thomas, but you're not going to get it from me."
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Thomas O'Malley continued from here for @jazzykitten
Thomas nursed his drink as he was hit with the whiplash of truth from the guy, yeah sure, it wasn't really any of his business to be butting in.. but the kid looked so lost. Thomas couldn't help himself from checking in, like he would with any of his employees on a bad day. "Yeah yeah, when you get to my age, 24 feels like 14." Thomas chuckled, but the damage seemed to have already been done and it felt like this guy hated his guts. "Sorry.. I didn't mean to uh invade your space, must be an interesting place to work." Thomas turned to face the guy, in the lighting he didn't look much older than twenty to him, but something in his eyes felt older.. like the kid had lived beyond his years. As the stranger went on, spitting his venom at Thomas he couldn't help but stare. Those tired eyes, there was something so desperately familiar about them, like a memory he couldn't quite place. "Woah woah no one is harassin' anyone--I'll leave if it makes you feel better." Thomas explained, now holding his hands up in defeat. He watched the uncomfortable expression on the boys face, it twigged something distant in his mind. Because it couldn't be.. the real kid he knew could never be here...unless..and if it was, Thomas was already failing him again. Fuck, this was happening. "I almost didn't recognize you, Berlioz."
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jazzykitten · 4 days
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As his mother stepped forward Berlioz made no effort to move. When she place her gentle hands on his face his eyes avoided hers. He couldn't stop the tears falling from his eyes like waterfall even if he had tried. He felt so worthless and defeated, pathetic even. Nothing mattered and as hard as Duchess would try to convince her son of that it was a disadvantaged, uphill battle she wouldn't win. Her normally comforting soft tone did nothing to ease him. Yet, her sternness may have been what made his eyes glance back in the direction of hers. She looked so sad and that only made Berlioz feel guilty. Bloodshot eyes stared into hers as he listened to her speak. He knew his mother loved him and he loved her. He hated he was causing her pain because of his own. Maybe he shouldn't have unloaded on her, but he had bottled it up so long that he had just snapped.
When she dropped her hands to wrap her arms around him Berlioz just stood there for a brief moment before wrapping his arms around her. Full force his sobs came one after one. He hated crying. He hated it so much, and he especially hated doing it in front of other people. He couldn't form words and stayed hugging his mother. He closed his eyes tight and took a deep, shaky breath in some attempt to calm his pounding heart and ease the feeling like he couldn't breathe any air. His entire body was in a frenzy. His his mind raced a million miles a minute and every inch of his skin felt like it was crawling. His chest felt tight and he was very shaky. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm not trying to upset you." He couldn't find it in him to pull away from her, grasping at the comfort she offered. Sometimes all a person needed was a hug from their mother. "I-I love you too, mama." He slowly opened his eyes and blinked the tears that were still coming but had began to slow. "I just feel so lost."
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You're not the fuck up here. She winced at his harsh choice of words, but for once was less bothered by the swearing than the meaning behind it, not having to bite her tongue to avoid chastising him. It didn't matter to her how many times he messed up or how badly, she would never see him any differently. She wasn't looking at him with pity, despite the tears that were shining in her own eyes. It was a love that ran deeper than she could explain, and a pain that she had never felt before. To know that if things had gone slightly different, he wouldn't be before her now, explaining himself. To know that he hurt so badly he'd done anything he could to fill a hole she wasn't aware was there. A small, choked sob escaped her before she could stop it, eyes squeezing shut, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She didn't want him to see it, even if he knew that she was hurting. It wasn't about her.
"Berlioz," she started, her voice hardly above a whisper. There was so much she wanted to say, but how could she put any of it into words? How could she convince him that he shouldn't give up, and how could she say he shouldn't feel like that? She had tried to give him everything, but it was clear the two of them had... clashing outlooks on life, to put it gently. She had tried to be the best mother she could but there was a role she simply couldn't fill, and it wasn't fair. Her husband had every right to leave her, to stop loving her. It had hurt, but she did not blame him for the choice he made when it came to their relationship. She didn't need him, the way he clearly hadn't needed her. But she would never forgive him for leaving their children behind. They deserved better. They deserved everything.
Stepping forward, she hesitated briefly, he'd only just said he wanted to be left alone. But out there somewhere it was possible there was another lifetime, another universe, where she had lost every chance to hold her son. So for herself and that mourning version, she closed the distance to take his head in her hands, cradling his face as she desperately wiped at the tears falling from his eyes. "Baby, look at me," she spoke, her voce soft but stern. She tried so hard to not make him or his siblings feel like she still saw them as little kids rather than their own respected individuals, but it didn't matter how old they got, they were always going to be her babies. "I care about you. From your very first breath I have loved you more than I could ever put into words. You are what matters. I cannot tell you the point to life, I cannot take that guilt or the pain from your shoulders, though I desperately wish I could..." Her voice wavering slightly, Duchess dropped her hands from his face to pull him into a tight hug. Whether he wanted the affection or not, she had a feeling he needed it. "I know I'm just your mother, Berlioz, but I can promise you that I am here. I am on your team. You will always have someone in your corner for as long as I live."
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jazzykitten · 11 days
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Berlioz knew that for every holiday there would be an event held in town. He didn't really care much for Easter or egg hunts. He had heard about the eggs hidden throughout town and the only thing that seemed worth finding was the money. He wasn't going out of his way to find anything when he was in the park that afternoon. He'd just happened to wake up before mid afternoon and forced himself to get outside for some fresh air. It would be good for him, he told himself. Despite how exhausted he felt no amount of caffeine was helping. He had already drank two coffees before heading out and by the time he got to the park he felt like he was crashing already. There was a simple remedy for that but the middle of the unusually crowded park was not the place. Berlioz was walking on the grass near the bushes where there were some random people scattered searching for eggs. He stopped in his tracks when someone snapped at him. He furrowed his brows and turned to face who he realized was Vitani. "I didn't know you came out in the sun," he said with a slight smirk tugging on the corners of his lips. "Or have you been here since sunrise, hoping to be the first lucky one to snatch up the cash? If I help you look and we find one we can split it fifty-fifty. What do you say?" There was no harm in a little friendly competition with a work pal, right? Even if she agreed they'd both be fifty dollars richer and Berlioz thought that was a win in its own.
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LOCATION: the park FOR: open to anyone
"What are you looking at?" Vitani cut her eyes at the person to her right. So maybe she was a little defensive today. "They said there were hundred dollar bills in some of these things. Anyone who isn't looking is an idiot." She'd go blue in the face before she admitted she was truly out here with a cute little basket searching for painted eggs because it sounded fun.
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jazzykitten · 11 days
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There was a silent heartbreak unfolding inside of Berlioz as his mother spoke. He saw the slip in her composure, even if it was brief he still saw it. That alone was enough to shatter him. Hearing how she spoke of the overdose as an incident stung. No one knew what to call it anymore. Everyone seemed to have their own word for it. Incident, accident, etc... It didn't matter. Berlioz himself barely called it what it was. Hearing her apologize was probably the worst of it all though. Hearing what he had wanted to for so long didn't lift any of the pain or sorrow he held. It only made it worse. A single tear fell from his eye but he couldn't find it in him to look away from her. He wanted nothing more than to run the short distance between them and hug his mother tightly. His feet didn't move though. He'd gone silent for too long and finally noticed his coffee finished brewing. He turned, not able to face her any longer to grab cream and sugar.
"Why are you sorry? You're not the fuck up here." His sadness was turning sour, bitter even, and into anger. His hands were a bit shaky, though he was unsure if it was the anxiety or the drugs causing it. "I don't want pity. I don't want people to feel sorry for me. I just want--" What did he want? Now that Berlioz had the opportunity to scream out what it was he really wanted, what was it? He'd felt so bitter for so long that he couldn't pinpoint what the one thing it was that he actually wanted. "I just want people to leave me the fuck alone. People seem to care so much suddenly because I could have died. Yet, after their guilt wears off and they get their apologies out it's like nothing. Radio silence. As usual. Ask my sister if she's spoken to me since the overdose. Ask the golden boy how long it's been since before it happened that we even spoke." He finishes making his coffee but leaves it to sit on the counter. Not because it was too hot, but because he felt like he couldn't even stomach anything at the moment.
He lets out a shaky breath, fearing the expression on her face so he doesn't look at her. "It's a waste of my energy being trying to keep people in my life anyways. I might as well just give up." Alice pops into his head for a moment and he frowns. He hadn't heard from her in a while and to him that was a response. An answer in the form of silence. Silence can speak louder than words, or whatever. He wipes his eyes as a few more stray tears had found their way onto his cheeks. He hated crying. Especially in front of his mother. "I just need everyone to understand that they won't ever understand anything." His heart was pounding and the high he felt wasn't even enjoyable. He finally turns to look at her again. "I love you dearly, mother, but you're wasting your time. Just look at me. Why would anyone waste their efforts on me? Nothing's ever going to change. My father's never going to come back and explain why he left. I'm never going to feel this weight get lifted off my shoulders. You're never going to get the answers you want and my siblings aren't going to give me the time of day any time soon. So why does anything matter? What's the point of even trying anymore?" His voice cracks at the end and the tears he fought so hard to hold back came out full force. "I just feel so angry and sad all the time and half of the time I don't even know why. I just...I just wish I didn't feel so guilty about it. I-I know I fuck up a lot but that doesn't mean I don't care about people. I just want them to care about me too."
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"Well, I'm glad to hear that," she smiled, one that didn't meet her eyes, it couldn't. Her voice was a forced chipper, unsure how she was supposed to act, what she was supposed to say. Lately, she felt like she couldn't connect to any of her children the way that they wanted to, like they were hiding things from her because she couldn't understand, or they didn't want her to. It shouldn't be this hard. She should be the one person they knew that they could rely on. Why wasn't she? Where had she gone wrong? She had been stern, but it was only because she loved them so...
When he began to speak again, her composure slipped momentarily, a pain she couldn't control knitting itself into her expression. She didn't allow it to last long before she found her footing, reminded that it was her job to be the strong one. She was his mother. "I didn't come to speak of the incident," Duchess promised, wincing slightly as the words left her own mouth. The incident. Was that what it was watered down to, now? Just an incident? When she could have been burying her baby boy. As she stared at him, it wasn't pity in her eyes, but sorrow. "I only wanted to check on you. I'm sorry, Berlioz." For everything — especially what she couldn't put into words.
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jazzykitten · 21 days
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Berlioz often had a drink after work before he went home to just almost inevitably go out and get trashed. He'd already been clocked out, went into the bathroom to do a line, before going to the bar. He was just drinking a vodka lemonade, minding his own business as he scrolled through his phone when a voice interrupted him. Berlioz couldn't help the anxiety creeping up on him. The voice sounded familiar but so...lost in memory. He looked up from his phone, blowing some face out of his hair, then focused on the man speaking to him. The moment Berlioz saw the man's face he froze. Was it? No, surely not. Though Berlioz would recognize that face anywhere. Did the other recognize him too? Maybe not, by the way he spoke. Berlioz wasn't a kid anymore. He wasn't just a young teen that was troubled. He was a grown adult that made terrible decisions and was much more disturbed than he was troubled. "I'm not a kid," he finally said. "I'm twenty-four years old and I work here. Is it a crime to have a drink after work?" His tone was quiet and cautious. He didn't trust the man before him. Not anymore. Berlioz wanted nothing more than to bolt out of there but his anxiety had him frozen in his seat. He'd barely been unable to form words as it was. His heart was pounding, chest tight as panic began to form. With a slightly shaky hand he lifted his drink and took a sip from the straw. "It should be a crime to be harassed by unwelcome guests though."
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@fictionformed
@jazzykitten , moonlight casino
Thomas shuffled into the bustling building and checked in his coat the door, he usually preferred the friendly games that went on all night in the comfort of his apartment over the high-risk, competitiveness of an establishment like Moonlight, but hey he'd try anything once. Ignoring the shady figures in the hallway and flirtatious lounge girls, Thomas took a seat at the bar, plucking up the courage to join a table and inevitably lose all his money. He took a sip of his whiskey taking in the sights around him of drunken fools pissing away their money and shook his head. "A crying shame.." he muttered aloud to the person near him. Thomas surveyed the figure and arched a brow, a kid-- what the fuck was a kid doing in a casino? "Hey -- aren't you a little young to be here drinking that?"
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jazzykitten · 23 days
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The cool, fresh air being outdoors had to offer felt comforting for a moment for Berlioz. His brother had quickly walked out after him though and the moment of escape went with the wind that blew past them. A shiver ran up his spine, hair standing up on the back of his neck, as he ran through every possible scenario that could play out at Toulouse's. What if his brother caught on that he had gotten high? He had gotten better at hiding it but his eyes were not always as secretive. What if they both got too drunk? Clearly they were both at the liquor store so late for a reason. What if everything was...fine? The negatives outweighed the positives in Berlioz's head.
The younger of the two brothers was only snapped out of his mulled thoughts and looked down at the bag under his arm. "...vodka," he said hesitantly. He didn't always drink it straight, but had failed to grab something to mix it with when he purchased it that night. He wasn't a complete heathen though. He drank flavored liquor, not enjoying the taste of regular vodka. From the size of the bag Toulouse was carrying and the shape the items inside had formed it seemed like he had more than one bottle in there. Berlioz wondered how much wine Toulouse drank as the walked towards his apartment. Would he have a glass or two and call it a night? Or would he drink an entire bottle or two and pass out? Berlioz couldn't judge him either way seeing as his habits could be considered worse.
Berlioz wasn't sure what else to say as they walked but with every step forward it was becoming excruciatingly difficult to not want to turn and bolt in the other direction. "I didn't know you lived over here," he finally said. He sort of hated that, knowing Toulouse was close enough to walk a few blocks to Berli's apartment. He felt bitter about it too. Had either of them gave a shit maybe they would have known. The small bag in his pocket felt like it was weighing down his pants. A much needed vice over the alcohol and Berlioz was growing antsy for a fix. It was cooler from the sky only being illuminated by the moon, but nice enough he didn't have his jacket zipped up. His work clothes felt like they were suffocating and his skin was crawling. He unbuttoned the first button on his black dress shirt, thinking how he was going to need a few drinks to get through this but knew he couldn't be stupid. He couldn't let Toulouse see the damage he does to himself. He glances at his brother from the corner of his eye as the got closer. "What occupied you all day that you had go get your...vice...so late?"
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toulouse hadn't expected to see berlioz tonight, and he already felt ill prepared for that... but nothing could have prepared him for berlioz's acceptance of the invitation he had almost regretted giving him. it wasn't much, but it was something, and at this point toulouse realized that he wanted to make up for lost time. even if it was just sitting in silence, not speaking to each other, the man wanted to spend time with his little brother; he had almost lost him, and toulouse didn't want to count on the overdose being a lesson learned because with how jumpy berlioz seemed to be, it wasn't. the elder knew he wasn't capable of stopping berli from doing what he wanted, as much as it ailed him to admit — he was a grown man now. if all toulouse could offer was his company, maybe that was a start. for him, for berli – for both of them.
nodding at the instruction, toulouse let berli walk out before him before waving apologetically once more into the shop, the bell hung atop the door chiming as it closed behind him. clearing his throat, toulouse jutted his chin in the direction his house was — a convenient two blocks away from the store they had just left. the temptation for small talk was thick on toulouse's tongue but he swallowed it down, not wanting to have berli taking off in the other direction. it was embarassing, the way toulouse had no idea how to talk to his younger brother, and the anxiety of it all made his hands tremble... and the silence was growing a bit unbareable for his nerves.
❛ what's your vice ?? ❜ toulouse inquired after a moment, gesturing towards the brown bag in berli's hands with the one in his own, inspecting it. toulouse had two dark reds in his, bottles he would no doubt get down in record time, having convinced himself that you can't be an alcoholic if all you drink is wine. still itching from nerves, toulouse reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve his cigarettes, tucking his purchases under his arm as he ceremoniously slipped one from the box to nestle between his teeth, extending the carton towards his brother. a peace offering, if you will. toulouse didn't even know if berli smoked but, it was all he had right now besides mindless conversation the other likely wanted no part of.
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jazzykitten · 30 days
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Continued from here for @wildcstwinter
The moment the invitation slipped from his brother's lips Berlioz felt more trapped than he already was. He didn't know what to say. When was the last time the two of them had spent any time together? If we're both just going to walk away from this and make shitty decisions can we at least do it together? The words echoed over and over and over again in his head. Berlioz had still been trying to process all of Toulouse's words before the sudden invitation. The younger man felt a hole burning in his pocket where there was a small bag of coke he had. It's not like he was going to go to work without it. He needed that instant after shift high. Berlioz swallowed hard as he pieced together what he was going to say. He had enough coke to get him through the awkward hell that this most likely would be for the both of them. All he would have to do is go to the bathroom. That was completely normal. He knew he would have to find an easy escape the moment he stepped foot in Toulouse's apartment. It was kind of scary to think the brothers lived so close together but were so distant from one another. It gave Berli an unsettling feeling. He'd doesn't even remember ever going there. "Fine," he finally spoke, "lead the way."
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jazzykitten · 1 month
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Berlioz knew that look in his mother's eyes. She wanted nothing more than to ask about the unsaid, forbidden topic. Berlioz almost wanted to rip the band aid off, but wasn't sure he could bring himself to do it. Instead he closed the door behind her then looked over. He should ask if she wanted him to take her coat. He should do a lot of things. He offered a halfhearted smile and nodded, leading her towards the kitchen and going to make himself a coffee. Say something, his mind screamed at him. He sniffled and cleared this throat, that dripping feeling not quite gone from his throat. As the coffee brewed he felt he had no choice but to face her. He leaned back against the counter and looked over at her, avoiding eye contact.
"I appreciate you bringing me crepes and checking in, but I'm fine." He shook his head. "And, I know you want to say it, so just get it over with." He finally locks his gaze with hers. His eyes were glossy, the high kicking in full force at this point. Even if she called him out would he deny that he was high? Would he be able to? "You want to talk about it, but I don't. There's no avoiding it forever though. I know you want to know how and why it happened. What led up to it, blah blah blah." HIs brows furrowed before he continued. "There isn't an answer though. It was an accident, nothing more."
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When she had gotten the call, Duchess hadn't broken down. While she was sure she felt something snap inside of her chest, she had remained straight-faced as she walked to her car, voice unwavering to comfort her daughter over the phone. She spoke to doctors and nurses, nodding and even wearing a tired smile that couldn't meet her eyes. She knew how to hold herself together. And she did, she held herself together beautifully... until later that night. Until she was taking a shower, scrubbing her skin until it was red as if that could wash the smell of the hospital off of her, wash off the truth of what had happened, and at once she realized tears were mixing with the water on her face. She must have stood in that shower for half an hour, sobbing until the water was ice cold. In this weird limbo of mourning her greatest fear, and thanking whatever God was out there that her son was still breathing.
Looking at him now, she tried her best not to think about that, to think about how she could have lost him. All she could see in the face that stared back at her was a little boy wiggling too much at the piano bench, ruffled dark hair and the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen. But that was... ages ago. He wasn't a child anymore, and while she wanted more than anything to pull him into a crushing hug, she feared he needed distance. It was strange, to feel like she was walking on eggshells, unsure what she could ask, what she could say. Both of them knowing what was on her mind; neither of them saying it.
"You do not have to apologize," Duchess spoke softly. Though she longed to hear from him, to know that he was okay every single day, she knew that it was unrealistic. While her children were her whole life, still, they had lives outside of her. They had friends, jobs, hobbies. Vices. They were their own people, and they didn't owe her a phone call, a visit. "Oh, no. Not for me, I'm alright. For yourself, I would suggest coffee." He looked like he could use it. Were there bags under his eyes? She left that part unsaid, a strained smile on her lips as she walked inside, still clutching the dessert she'd brought. It was a nice gesture, but it was a selfish one. An excuse to drop by and ease her own mind. "Coffee and crepes go hand in hand."
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jazzykitten · 2 months
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It had to have been after the noon mark when Berlioz woke up. He usually slept late, worked second shift, then stayed up all night until he crashed for a few hours. He remembered seeing a two on his phone when he looked at it with one eye half open before slowly blinking until he felt awake enough to reach over to his nightstand and grab a bottle of water and chug. He headed towards his bathroom and the first thing he did after brushing his teeth was do a line. It was the only way he was able to even stay awake anymore it seemed. He hadn't gotten dressed for the day yet, still just in some sweatpants, as he sat on the couch and went about snorting a perfectly sculpted ling of white powder up his nose.
He had just felt the drip in his throat when he heard sudden knocking followed by his mother's voice he immediately went into panic mode. "Shit," he cursed under his breath. He began to quickly clean up any thing that would give away what he had been doing and grabbed a hoodie that had been lying on the couch, pulling it over his head. He did one last glance, not seeing any residue left over before opening the door to face his mother. His heart ached just seeing her but instead he gave her a smile that didn't reach his eyes no matter how hard he tried to convince. "You brought crepes?" Berlioz knew that would be a tough treat to resist. He didn't want to let her in though. Not now. He couldn't be around her like this. He was a little shaky but didn't notice. He usually was for some reason or from something.
How could he push her away now though? How could he get her to go away? Berlioz loved his mother dearly but the less she knew the better. They'd barely talked about the overdose since it happened and Berlioz didn't want to start now when he'd barely been awake a half an hour, hair not brushed yet and evidently messy as it fell in his eyes. His mind screamed at him to tell her it wasn't a good time that she should leave. His heart ached to hug his mother and beg her to never leave though. "That's so...thoughtful," he finally said after a silence that lasted a bit too long. If Berlioz knew his mother he knew those were his favorite crepes one could find in this town. That or she made them herself. "You didn't have to do that." He rubs the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly. It was clear something was off about him and he didn't want an intervention that 'early.' After doing a quick glance behind himself to make sure nothing was lying around and the apartment looked decent enough he stepped aside to let her in without a vocal invitation. He could do this. He could just sit and talk to his mother. He owed her that much. "I'm sorry I haven't called. Work is draining me most nights." It wasn't a complete lie. He was sorry but that's not what occupied his time so much he couldn't call his mother. "I'll try and do better." There felt like more weight to the words than intended, but it wasn't a promise he intended to keep. "Should I make some tea or coffee?" he asked, avoiding eye contact with her.
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LOCATION: berlioz' place FOR: @jazzykitten
She must have been standing there for a full five minutes, maybe ten, before Duchess ever found the courage to lift her fist to the door. There were many times in her life she felt like a failure of a mother, but lately— well, lately it was a thought that never seemed to leave her head, and part of her wondered if she should turn around. Give her son space, not be so.... overbearing. But she wanted to see him, needed to see him, or her heart would not rest. "Berlioz, dear, are you home? It's momma. I brought crêpes."
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jazzykitten · 2 months
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"I don't hate you," were the first words that came out of Berlioz's mouth. Words that came out so instantaneously that he hadn't had time to process anything else his brother said. The one that stuck out most was that Toulouse truly thought Berli hated him. Had he been so selfish and cruel while he pushed everyone away they mistook it for hatred? It was the other way around. Berlioz loathed himself, thinking that he was worthless or a waste of space. He knew he was selfish and hurt the ones he cared about and it's a heavy weight on his shoulders. He felt guilty, especially when he compared Toulouse to their father. It was unfair of him. He was still so hurt though. He knew Toulouse and Marie were too. Berlioz had tore them apart, limb from limb, until their family had shattered from the inside out. "There's a difference between giving someone space and pretending they don't exist. I suppose that means there's a difference between pushing people away and setting boundaries too then." He looked away from his brother, tears stinging his eyes. He could not cry in front of Toulouse. He had to pretend he was fine and not that he was starting to feel the early withdrawal effects of needing drugs. It was an itch that wouldn't go away no matter how hard or how long you scratched at it. In the end the skin would end up red and raw and one would succumb to easing the pain. Drugs were sort of similar that way. You scratched and scratched until you gave in and grabbed the lotion.
"I just wanted you to acknowledge my existence but not hover. I-- I do shit you would never approve of. Shit you don't need to know about so you can sleep at night." He glances back at his brother, trying to ignore the gaze of the cashier and other customers. He was growing paranoid and he needed something to ease that. Home was just around the corner but he knew it was too late to bolt now. He was stuck. "I don't know what you want from me either, you know. You can be sorry all you want but what are you apologizing for? Are you sorry I overdosed or are you sorry you weren't there to prevent it? It's not a fucking secret I was using drugs. The inevitable happened but I'm still here. So don't be fucking sorry for it." He stomach felt unsettled, specifically after he said the word 'overdose.' He could count on one hand how many times he'd said the actual word out loud. He hated it. It made things too real. He just wanted to be in his happy place and relax. Toulouse was getting in the way of that.
"If you want to hand out apologies, fine. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have compared you to our dad. That was a low blow. I'm sorry I'm such a piece of shit that you consistently avoid me, more than I avoid you or Marie. I'm sorry I'm not a carbon-fucking-copy of you, golden boy. I can hear mother saying it now. 'Oh, Toulouse, you're so wonderful. You're such a great big brother to look after your siblings.' When's the last time any of us have told her the truth about anything though?! She doesn't know you're at wits end or that Marie is a lot more fragile than she lets on. She doesn't know how unwell I am. None of you do." Admitting it out loud made it too real. Words were coming out before he could think of how to string them together. He was unwell. He was an addict and he had no intention of changing that. He didn't care. To him his own existence was a waste. "Just...just get out of my way, Lou. All I want to do is go home and I think you probably want to do the same and drink a bottle or two, huh? You cannot judge my habits when yours are no better."
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it was selfish of him to think so, toulouse knew that, but berlioz's anger didn't feel fair. despite everything the elder had sacrificed for his brother, his family, it seemed like it all was USELESS and worth nothing to them. what was the point of giving up your entire future, your entire sense of self, your CHILDHOOD — if that sacrifice was going to be trampled all over ?? the man parted his lips to speak, but toulouse's jaw clamped shut when his brother started talking, nostrils flaring as the first thing out of his mouth was the one thing toulouse wasn't able to dispute. he had no ammo, a gun aimed forward with an empty magazine and a safety that couldn't be switched off. it felt like a spear to his chest, being compared to their father, and it took everything in the man to not step forward and swing his fist into the other's jaw. he stayed silent until berlioz granted him permission to speak. how thoughtful. ❛ i didn't know. you don't talk to me anymore... and marie likes to pretend everything is fine because she shouldn't have to worry about us. i found out through word of fuckin' mouth, berlioz.❜ toulouse stepped forward, closing some of the distance between them, emotion burning hot in his throat as hurt and relief swelled in his chest like chords filled with dissonance. ❛ i'm not perfect, i'm not always right, but you don't get to stand there and tell me what i did and didn't do. what i have and haven't sacrificed.❜ i just couldn't accept that i had failed you, my little brother, by not recognizing what you were going through before it was nearly too late because i am drunk more often then i'm not.
❛ i'm sorry you almost died and i didn't know what to say to you to fix things. i didn't know if i should apologize or coddle you or WHAT. it was fucked up of me not to text you or reach out, but what good what that have done ?? you still would have hated me. you still would have seen me the same way you do now, and the same way you always have. i thought i was giving you the space you wanted. ❜
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jazzykitten · 2 months
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Berlioz watched Alice's facial expression as she unraveled from his touch. Hearing her gasp out his name like it was her last, dying breath sent shivers up and down his back. He continued to pleasure her as she rode out the orgasm before she grabbed his arm, guiding his fingers out of her that practically dripped with her juices. He let her pull him up to her, wanting desperately to kiss her only for her to flip them over so suddenly. Berlioz was breathless at the sight of her and when she began grinding her pussy against his hard cock a sound that was a cross between a whine for more and a moan of pleasure came out. The hand that he used to pleasure her went up to her lips, his index and middle finger trailing across her lip before he slid them into her mouth. "Taste how sweet you are," he whispered, gazing into her eyes. His other hand went to adjust his cock before she let him slide inside of her, a gasp coming from him this time. Fucking hell had he missed the feeling of being inside of her. His hand moved up to her hip and he grinded his hips in sync against hers. "I-I missed you so much. I missed this. Just me and you...together," he managed to let out between moans. He wasn't trying to get sappy on her but his emotions ran wild these days and he couldn't deny that he felt a certain way for Alice. He pushed those thoughts down and focused back on reality. Every so often his hips would jerk upwards, followed by sounds of pleasure. His fingers that had once occupied her mouth were now on her cheekbone as his hand rested on her face. Berlioz tried to keep eye contact with her but the more she moved her hips the louder his moans became. His head tilted back and his hand moved from her hand to grip the sheets. "Alice, fuck...I-- I missed the way you felt. You drive me insane. P-please just don't stop..."
alice wouldn't ever admit that it was the eye contact and he worked her pussy with such divine practice that made her unravel the first time. she would never admit that the way he looked at her sent shivers not only to her core but to her heart as well. her mind went pretty blank after that, his name coming out as a gasp as she only momentarily came down from the high. he was still working her, still playing her like she was his piano and her noises were the music he was trying to press out of her. it was a beautiful song she could listen to again and again. that alone was terrifying to think. looking back at him and those damn captivating eyes, she somehow managed to reach for his arm, even though her head still felt so light, and help guide him outside of her, her juices glistening on his fingers. just the sight had her groaning. "allow me, then," she said breathily pulling him to her so that he was on top of her, only for her to flip them so it was the other way around. she loved seeing him like this, under her, surprised, but ready for her. she started moving her hips, grinding her throbbing pussy along his cock, teasing him before allowing him his moment of bliss.
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jazzykitten · 2 months
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For a long while all Berlioz could do was stare at his brother almost as if he were trying to figure out if what he was seeing was real or not. Toulouse might as well have been a phantom that disappeared into the night, not to be seen again. His brother was practically a stranger these days. He had no idea what to do or say. Berlioz was angry and hurt though. He wanted to scream in Toulouse's face about how he might as well have been their father the way he felt abandoned. In a way it felt similar. Toulouse had always played more of the 'father' role than brother. Having him just go off the radar, especially during Berlioz's lowest moment, felt like their father leaving all over again. He could feel all eyes on them as Toulouse had blocked the exit. "You want five minutes? Fine, but I get to go first." His brows bunched together as he carefully thought of what to say next. "I almost died, Toulouse. You didn't send so much as a fucking text message. Not that I should have expected it. You're not better than our father. You don't get to act like you took his place then disappear just like he did." His hand clenched around the bottle in a paper bag tighter. He wanted to just bite his tongue and push past him, knowing the words he said already stung, but anger was taking the best of him. "You don't deserve five minutes of my time because you clearly don't give a shit about anyone but yourself. Kind of like most of this family." He goes silent for a long moment, his entire body shaky and his dark brown eyes looking away from his brother. "You've got about two minutes left so I would start talking if I were you."
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toulouse had seen the younger before berlioz saw him, having been up at the counter purchasing his own vice as the middle bonfamille child had just been walking in. the elder had struggled to swallow upon seeing him, guilt filling his throat like shards of broken glass, adam's apple unable to find a sense of stillness as it relentlessly slid up and down— the saliva just wouldn't leave his mouth. toulouse was stuck between wanting to make a quick exit, and wanting to block the other from leaving, having not spoken to berlioz since he heard of his near-overdose from marie. toulouse knew he should have reached out, even if the other shut him down, but grappling with his own failures as a mentor and a protector was difficult for him to do, on top of accepting that he had failed as an older brother. toulouse imagined berlioz hated him for it, and maybe that was a thought he was putting in his own brother's head, but it didn't make the weight of it any easier to shake. having spent too long loitering, soon his eyes were landing upon the much darker hues of berlioz's, and he couldn't find it in him to speak at first as he gripped a much larger bag of his own to in one arm. then, the other went to leave, panic flashing in his eyes; ❛ NO, berlioz, wait, ❜ toulouse spoke before he could stop the words from leaving him, stepping back so he was blocking the door, not giving a shit about the clerk who delivered the two of them a raised eyebrow.
❛ can we... fuck, can we just talk for a second ?? five minutes, berlioz, that's all i'm asking. screw the formalities.❜
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jazzykitten · 2 months
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A look at Berlioz Bonfamille's playlist.
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jazzykitten · 2 months
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Closed starter for: @oldestsyndrxme Location: Liquor store
It was nearly close for alcohol sales and Berlioz had just gotten off work. Sure, he could have drank at the bar there but he just wanted to go home and be by himself. He stopped at the closest one to his apartment on the way home, grabbed his things, and paid. Something felt off though and it was making Berlioz paranoid. He looked over his shoulder from the anxiety but didn't expect to make eye contact with his brother. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to fucking run but he stood frozen in place, a bag of liquor clasped tightly in his hand. He had no words to say and all he could think about was how absent he'd been. He didn't blame Toulouse for that necessarily, but it still stung knowing he didn't give enough of a shit anymore to at least check on him after he'd nearly died. It shouldn't be this difficult, seeing his own brother that had practically raised him, but it was. There were so many things Berlioz wanted to scream at him but no words formed on his tongue. Finally he broke eye contact and looked towards the door. "I was just heading out. Don't want to waste your time with any formalities."
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jazzykitten · 2 months
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There was so much and so little happening all at once in Berlioz's mind. He was on an emotional rollercoaster of euphoric highs that came in waves. Each time he thought it couldn't get better it just did. With every wave that washed over his body the wearier he grew. Berlioz struggled to understand what Francis was saying and flinched when he ruffled his hair, both startled and not expecting it. He just as quickly sank back into his feeling of euphoric bliss though. His eyes grew heavy and he was struggling to keep them open. Every time he began to nod off something jolted him awake though. Berlioz couldn't help but crave warmth. It felt like he wasn't even controlling his body as he laid down on the couch.
Berlioz drifted off into a calm sleep. He had peaceful dreams that would be long forgotten by morning instead of nightmares that would follow him into the next day. It must have been a long time that Berli had been asleep because when he woke up the faux lighting in Francis' place was replaced with natural sunlight. He shuffled around on the couch until he found his phone. He felt groggy. Entirely groggy but in all fairness he'd barely had his eyes open at that point. When he clicked the button on the side of his phone to light it up he read the time. 11:43 am. Where had the last twelve hours of his life gone? Was he asleep the whole time? His mouth was dry, really dry and he wanted some water. Where the hell was Francis?
Berlioz finally sat up, rubbing his eyes before he could properly focus his vision on the room. The first thing he lied eyes on was the bag of oxy and white residue on the table. Berli couldn't help the itching feeling of wanting more. No, he needed water before anything. Slowly, he stood up and stretched his arms out before making his way towards the kitchen, hoping he could find Francis on the way but thinking he was likely still asleep. He'd been to Francis' enough to know where the kitchen was so he navigated there with ease. When he walked in he hadn't expected Francis to be awake. Or shirtless. Regardless of either fact Berli still needed water. "You got, like, a water bottle?" he asked.
was he a horrible person for giving a kid who had nearly overdosed more drugs ?? probably, maybe, likely... the odds were not in his favor in that regard but francis didn't pride himself on being a good person. he wouldn't even go as far as to call himself sensible, but he stood by the argument that if they weren't from him, berlioz would get them elsewhere, and francis knew his shit was at least clean (as clean as drugs could get) and for the most part, disposable. doing drugs was an expensive hobby, and whilst francis had money burning holes in his pockets, he knew that the simpletons beneath him didn't have that luxury. the man continued to drum his fingers fingers on the arm of the couch, watching the young man sink into his high, becoming one with the overpriced couch cushions. amusement dared to glitter in his eyes, but he didn't let it show, the boy's words withdrawing a laugh from him as he grew antsy where he sat. ❛ good boy, you enjoy that high... ❜ francis encouraged, feeling almost like a babysitter, leaning forward as he took one of the bags off the table and started arranging a fix for himself— sticking with cocaine. don't fix what ain't broken. three straight lines, arranged in neat rows, carved to perfection with a hand that could do this from muscle memory alone. francis kept gifting suspicious glances over to berli, not wanting the kid to pass out on his couch just yet — then he'd have to monitor him, make sure he didn't die. he didn't want to have to be the one to bring his ass back to the hospital—not out of fear from guilt, but out of sheer inconvenience. christ, francis, have the slightest shred of human decentcy, would ya??
okay fine, he'd monitor him.
francis took the three lines with ease, each one spiking his adrenaline higher and higher, sending him up and into the clouds he was most comfortable sticking his head in. francis dragged the back of his hand across the underside of his nose, sniffing deeply, ensuring all of the powder went up where it counted. then, standing from the chair finally, he moved around behind the couch, reaching a hand out to ruffle the other's hair; ❛ you got a nice, long road ahead of you. you make yourself comfortable. ❜
it wouldn't be the first time someone crashed on his couch from a high, and francis would rather the younger be here than go off and... pass out on the sidewalk or do something dumb with his name and his drugs all over him. francis was careless, destructive in all senses of the word, but he wasn't heartless... not entirely. the other was a bit of an idiot, and sometimes idiots just needed someone to coach them through their... well, idiocy. francis stretched his arms above his head, knowing he wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon, checking his watch to see what time it was; 11:04pm. not too bad... he could probably manage a late night stream now if he wanted to, most of his subscribers being nocturnal assholes like himself. incredibly fucked of him to be considering something like streaming with the situation at hand, but berli seemed to be enjoying the rush no doubt turning his brain to TV static. francis knew drug addictions were a thing, but he himself was untouchable; people like francis didn't become drug addicts. if he cared to wonder what the other was going through, he might have felt bad, have even inquired — alas, some people just liked to do drugs, and francis didn't see a point in looking beyond that.
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jazzykitten · 2 months
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Berlioz knew he was getting Alice's whole body and mind worked up. With every touch and squirm or gasp and moan he knew he was touching all the right spots. He had them memorized by now. He knew which spots would drive Alice up a wall the most. They'd done this before. So many times before that Berlioz had grown to miss it. Still, no words came from his mouth as he licked at her clit and pumped his finger in and out of her. He knew she was beginning to unravel and that alone made him smirk. It was a confidence boost when she begged for more and Berli was more than happy to oblige. He slid another finger inside of her, pumping them both in and out at a faster pace. His other hand went down to wrap around his cock, stroking himself as he waited in anticipation to be inside of her. He looked up at her as he pleasured them both, a moan coming from his lips. Every sound that escaped their lips was enough to communicate what they needed from each other, and right now that was each other. "I need more of you," he gasped out. His chin rested on her thigh as he worked on finger-fucking her and his eyes looked up at her. His expression was one of need and desire. His fingers curved slightly, searching for her sweet spot to really put her over the edge. He wanted to make her orgasm over and over. His only focus was making her feel good and when he found that spot he grinned, his fingers working inside of her to make her unfold at his touch.
Alice didn't even have time to pout before his lips were on hers again and clothes were being shed. She wasn't upset about it by any means, but she did still hold onto his cock for as much as she could. Being in his bedroom again was familiar, cozy, and every single thing they needed to say, they didn't. Just hungry kisses and touches and skin on skin. A giggle escaped her lips before it turned into a needy moan as his lips explored her body. Every time felt new even though they have done this same old song and dance more times than she could keep count of. There was an urgency in his movement that only made Alice a dripping mess by the time he made it to her core. Her fingers tangled in his hair as he teased her, hips rocking slowly with want. As he found himself a rhythm she was losing all sense of control, breathy gasps as her hips started to move a little faster. She wanted to taste him, them, on his lips, but instead she gripped his hair tighter, tugging on it harsher than she had meant to. "More," she gasped, as he worked her into a frenzy. A hand removed from his hair traveling to squeeze her breasts before they moved further downward to circle her swollen bud. She spread her legs as far as she could and let out another whine before moving her fingers faster. If he kept doing what he did with his tongue she was sure to unravel before the real fun could begin. Then again, the most fun was unraveling over and over.
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jazzykitten · 2 months
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If it wasn't the small, teasing kisses Alice left on the tip of his cock that would do him in it was definitely the way she sucked him off with a 'pop' each time she removed her lips. Berli's body grew hot and tingly as pleasure overtook him. His body yearned for more but he couldn't form words to ask for it. Alice must have gotten the message though because as soon as she picked up pace and gripped his legs tight he was letting out moans of pleasure. The longer he let her let her the louder his moans got and just as soon as he felt comfortable with her pace she pulled away. Berlioz looked down at her as she spoke, whining a little as she stroked his cock. "Y-yeah," he managed to let out with a nod. God, he'd missed this a lot more than he could tell her. So, he was going to show her. He reached down and pulled her up to his level and smashed his lips to hers. His hands travelled her body, searching for the edge of fabric. He led her backwards towards his bedroom, disposing pieces of her clothing between heavy, heated kisses. When he felt his bedroom door against his back he searched blindly for the doorknob and opened it. Berlioz wrapped an arm around Alice's waist, kissing hungrily along her neck before he collapsed onto his bed with her. Words weren't doing him justice so he kept silent as he crawled on top of her. As he hovered over her he looked down at her admiringly and smiled. That would be enough to communicate how he felt.
Berlioz wanted to return the favor though. He kissed down her neck, to her collarbone, and then breasts. His hand trailed down her side until it met her thigh. He began to kiss lower and lower until he reached the edge of her panties. Looking up at her, he made eye contact as he pulled them down. After he tossed them aside his head went just a little lower. His hand was rubbing her inner thigh and the other went to push her other leg side more. His mouth went between her legs and the first thing he did was lightly flick his tongue against her clit a few times. He was doing his best to ignore his throbbing cock, but he knew he could wait. This was about Alice now. His tongue licked the length of her pussy and a moment later he sucking around her clit. His hand went to tease her opening with a finger before sliding it slowly inside of her then back out again, repeating the process as his mouth worked on her clit.
Alice wasted no time taking his cock into her hands and planting soft kisses to the tip. This was about appreciation and she might not be able to give him the emotional comfort he wanted, but she could do plenty of other things to show she cared. A soft sigh escaped her lips before she wrapped them around his length, taking as much of him in her mouth as she could before slowly removing herself with a pop of her lips. She repeated this a few times before she decided to pick up the pace, taking him back into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down. Her hands were gripping his legs tightly as she allowed herself to be sloppier, less contained. And just when she thought he was growing comfortable she took her mouth off of him again, stroking his cock and smiling up at him. "Did you miss this?" she asked innocently, pumping him faster and faster.
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