Logs:Lovely Masks

Lovely Masks
CN chaotic drug use, ableism, anti-drug user stigma
Dramatis Personae Desi, Matt, Sera	2021-07-08 "You did end up just like Mother."
Location <PRV> Tessier Residence - Greenwich Village
Understated opulence claims this spacious and well-kept townhome, the decor throughout the whole of it of the highest quality and carefully chosen. The front door opens onto the entrance hall, a closet close at hand to receive coats and shoes -- the pale hardwood floors gleam underfoot, unsullied by tracked-in mess from outside. The living room beyond the entrance is all dark woods and pale earth tones, comfortable couches and armchairs and a thick soft rug laid down beneath. Two large and painstakingly aquascaped aquariums flank the entrance to the dining room, with several brightly coloured species of fish within. Most of the rest of the wall space, notably, is taken up with shelves -- shelves crammed with books of every subject and genre. A study branching off of the main hall is cozy, small, done in pale blues and lined with books as well around the large computer desk and smaller futon, though these rarer books are cased behind glass. Another securely locked door leads to the basement, and another to the full bathroom downstairs. The kitchen connects to the living room; in contrast, it is sleek and modern and well-appointed, stocked by someone who takes their cooking seriously. And takes their alcohol equally seriously -- to one side of the kitchen there is a fully-stocked bar. The back door to the kitchen looks out on a small well-kept garden. It's a bright and cheerful summer day, the heat unpleasant by this hour but not outright miserable, either. The ladies of the house have been gone for a while, though not as long as they had planned. Possibly those plans changed entirely while they were, judging by the shopping bags Desi has brought back with her. She wears a flowing sundress in soft watery shades of purple-blue and strappy white sandals, a loosely woven straw sun hat shading a face little altered by the summer sun save a faint dusting of freckles. "We'll go another day," she's telling her companion as she sets down the bags remove her sandals. "Maybe when the boys are home, so we can drag them along." A sharper flare of her ever-present grief interrupts her general good cheer and relief at the cool inside the house. But she takes a deep breath, and the reassuring smile she flashes at Sera looks only a touch forced. "Little Island isn't going anywhere." Sera has a bag of her own, though this one is a nylon tote styled like an antique world map (usually folded up in Desi's purse) whose long straps are more comfortable carried over one of her skinny shoulders. She's dressed in a sunny yellow t-shirt with a black graphic of a bumblebee above the words "Bee Kind" and blue jean shorts that are shorter and tighter on her now than her usual preference. "I'm not complaining, I got a ton of new clothes out of it." Desi's grief only puts a small hitch in the excitement that spills from Sera in steady waves. She hides her expression by kneeling to unlace her brown hiking boots, little though she needs to stare at her hands while doing so. "If they want to come, that would be pretty great. And," she adds gamely, hefting the tote as she straightens up and makes a beeline for the stairs, "I can dress up really nice for it. Thanks again." One of the boys is, in fact, home right now. Lying quiescent in his room, however, Matt's presence is only sensible to Sera. His biochemical signature is so dramatically altered it's barely recognizable: a drowsy, peaceful haze ruffled by unsteady lingering brushes of a distinctly artificial euphoria. If he notices Desi and Sera's return, he gives no indication to either. Desi's smile looks less forced, now. "{It was nothing.}" She tucks her sandals away and follows Sera, her own soft footfalls more graceful and dignified than those of the excited teen. "{I like helping people pick out clothes. And, well, you're growing so fast...}" Despite the wistful pain that follows this, she is in no way immune to Sera's enthusiasm. "Anyway, you can show off your haul to Matthieu when he gets home. Or Gae, though he's not nearly so easy to impress." "I don't think he's actually that easy to..." Sera trails off, pausing at the top of the stairs. A frown briefly tugs at her brows, but it smooths out rapidly as her entire posture relaxes and she radiates soft, pleasant lethargy. "He's home already, but um..." She blinks a few times back at Desi, her gaze refocusing as she reels her power back in. "We probably shouldn't bother him until the pills wear off." "Pills?" Desi echoes, briefly perplexed as she processes the mild third-hand high. She stops beside Sera and darts a glance at Matt's door. "He's probably just crossfading, but he knows how to handle that." There's no hint of disapproval in this, though after a beat she looks at the girl appraisingly. "{Do you--know what that means?}" "It's not weed and it's not alcohol." Sera manages to stop her eyes rolling, but there's a palpable current of indignant defensiveness in her words anyway. "Pills like painkillers, for the cancer. Back home, sometimes mom took too many. Luci would always fix it, but..." There's a trickle of worry from her, now that she's more or less successfully fighting back down. "I mean, he doesn't feel like he's overdosing, but Luci isn't here..." Desi's flash of annoyance is quickly overshadowed by her own concern, alongside yet very unlike Sera's. "He's really careful with painkillers even when he gets them, because..." It's her turn to trail off just before her concern blossoms into panic. Turning, she throws open her elder brother's door and barges in without announcement or hesitation. Inside, the room is dim, the curtains drawn and one bedside lamp lit. Matt is curled on his side, fully dressed and ensconced in a heap of soft pillows. His works are scattered haphazardly across his nightstand along with a red naloxone kit. For all that, his breathing is strong and steady if slow, his eyes only half-lidded though they fail to track Desi properly. "{Mmsorry,}" he slurs, reaching out for his sister before dropping his hand--not quite as though he's too weak to hold it up but more like he simply lost track of what he meant to do with it. Sera creeps inside after Desi, her eyes wide and a cloud of uncertainty buzzing faintly around her. "Is -- is he okay?" When she hears Matt's voice her shoulders relax. "Are you okay?" She studies the assortment of items on the nightstand with a sort of abstract curiosity as she fetches up against the foot of the bed. "Mom usually just wanted to sleep when she was high," she tells Desi. "It doesn't mean there's anything wrong..." Desi rushes to her brother's side, reaching for but also not touching him. Her fear is rapidly changing into anger, and her eyes snap aside to Sera. "I know," she grits out, struggling to keep her voice level, "what people do when they're high. Our mother--" She swallows and breathes out, slow, momentarily conquering both her rage and the flutter of guilt that follows. "Sorry. Can you just--give us some privacy?" This request is quiet. "I need to talk to Matthieu. We might be a while." Matt tries and fails to sit up, not very much more alert than he had been, though he does look at Sera when she speaks. The heroin dulls the usually sharp edge of his grief, but he still subsides into the pillows at the sight of her. "{Fine, I'm fine. I feel--fine.}" He is, at least, enunciating a bit more clearly. "{I thought you were going to be out...}" One hand gestures vaguely in the direction of the window. If he meant to follow this up with something, he nods off before getting around to it. Sera's power draws back in quickly enough that her surge of hurt at Desi's words only ghosts over the older Tessiers. She doesn't quite manage to suppress her flinch, though. "Sorry, you just seemed so --" Whatever else she had been about to say, she bites back and just nods. "Okay." She darts an opaque glance at Matt before turning back to the door. "Okay, I'll -- go." She doesn't run, but her slow, heavy steps are a different kind of retreat. Desi does not watch Sera go, her bright green eyes narrowing instead on her brother. "{Matthieu,}" she calls, almost plaintively, but then sets her jaw hard and shakes him, none too gently, by the shoulder. He responds only with a sleepy incoherent murmur. Her gaze lights on the red nylon kit beside the used cooker on the nightstand, and she swallows. "{You don't get to do this to us. Not again.}" She unzips it, plucks out a vial of naloxone and a syringe, drawing up the clear liquid and jabbing Matt unceremoniously in the arm. "{You are going to answer to me.}" Matt stirs and looses a soft groan by way of complaint at the sting of the needle. Then he stirs again, his breath coming faster. It's hardly a minute later that his eyes snap open wide, pupils narrowed so dramatically that his green irises look outright uncanny. "Ostie de crisse de tabernak--" tumbles out hoarse and pained. He tries to scramble upright and fails once more. Only then does his gaze fixes on Desi, uncomprehending. "{What--was I--?}" He glances at the clock, at the vial of naloxone, back at Desi. His next demand is just a touch sharp. "{What happened?}" Desi waits, sitting stiffly upright at the edge of the bed. Despite her earlier bravado she wilts ever so slightly at the question. Then collects herself again. "You were high. Now you are not." She turns her hand up and indicates the vial. Her voice had been even and measured but is slowly rising as she speaks. "You'd been courteous enough to leave the Narcan out so I didn't have to wait all afternoon to ask you what the fuck you think you're doing!" Matt finally rights himself just in time for Desi to yell more or less in his face rather than down at him. It's hard to tell whether his shaking is a reaction to her yelling or just withdrawal, but the fury that twists his features is raw and plain. When he replies, though, his voice is deadly calm. "Heroin. I thought you might have put that together." His eyes remain steady on his sister. "{So. I was not overdosing.}" This isn't a question. "{You just dragged me down to scream at me.}" Still not a question. Then his shoulders sag fractionally. "{I'm sorry. I meant to tell you, but...}" Whatever his excuse was going to be, Desi cuts him out with a hard slap. "You're sorry." This is also not a question, flat and imperious. "How dare you do this to us? How dare you do this to Luci?!" She stands up abruptly and paces a short circuit between the bed and the low chess table. "You know how hard it was for him to quit! Or you would, if you actually cared." She fidgets with the tail of the dutch braid hanging over one shoulder. "Gods, what if he--" Breaking off, she whirls on Matt again. "Is there more of that shit in the house?" She doesn't wait for an answer, hand shooting out to grasp his still-skinny wrist. "{I know.}" Matt grits his teeth hard, but they are starting to chatter. "Desi--please, you've a right to be angry, but I cannot do this right now." He closes his eyes, one hand lifting to his mouth--only half stifling the quiet whimper that tries to escape--then dropping again as his breathing steadies deliberately and his eyes open. He's just about to speak when she lunges for him. His power slams down on hers a fraction of a second before she makes contact. Beneath her hand his skin is cool and clammy, his attempt to pull away feeble and ineffectual. "{Enough!}" he growls. "I'm trying to get clean again. I was safe, this--I was safe. {I won't endanger him, I swear it. Not this time.}" Desi's mouth twists to one side and she releases Matt's arm. "Are you so determined to get yourself killed? To tear this family apart for your own pleasure? And with children in the house, no less, with Se--with her!" She jabs an accusing finger in the direction of Sera's room and sits back down on the edge of the bed heavily, not facing her brother this time. "You'd been clean so long! Why now? Why, after a decade and more? If Luci found out, he'd come back, nevermind the show--" Her breath hitches audibly and she turns back to him, eyes wide. "This is deliberate. You can't stand us doing anything but worship you, and you know he'd drop everything to look after you." Just like that, Matt's expression smooths over, though the shivering does not stop. "{I've wronged Luci plenty, then and now. I've wronged you all. But this?}" He turns his hand palm-up to indicate the paraphernalia on the nightstand. "{This isn't anything but a relapse. I've had -- }" The corner of his mouth twitches into a faint, unnerving smile. "{ -- a difficult year. But I will get myself together, and I will do it without ruining Luci's career or scarring the kids for life.}" He draws a slow breath, no light in the gaze he fixes on Desi. "At least I can say Sera's name." "She isn't Sera, she's--" Desi bites back the rest of this. "See, this is what you do. You take our love, and our attention, and our care--you take and you take and you give nothing back. Then when someone calls you on it you twist it all around so it looks like we're being unreasonable and cruel. Or you show us this--" She sweeps a hand at him. "--so we'd be desperate to get our Matthieu back, even if he is nothing more than a sweet, lovely mask." Pushing to her feet again, she looms over him. "You did end up just like Mother." She spins gracefully around and starts to storm out, though she pauses at the threshold to add, without turning around. "Careful you don't end like her."