[semi-open] tryin' to get a handle on a reason to shine

[shootsoff]

who: roy harper and whoever else
what: catch-all for planned threads and open prompts
when: August-September
where: wherever
warnings: Roy is a recovering alcoholic/addict and that's going to come up a lot in this entry because he's struggling with staying on the wagon in the wake of Jason going home. The main entry and open prompts in it will skim over the topic of addiction, to make it easier to avoid, I'll keep the bulk of in-depth meta about addictions in the "bar" prompt in the comments. If you want a thread with Roy that doesn't go in-depth about it, just shoot me a PM or note in your subject line that you're not interested in addiction issues, and I'll avoid it as much as possible!



[Things had just been getting better, they'd just been settling down, he'd been getting used to being here. Making friends. Feeling easy with things. Feeling less lonely than he had at home with the kids and Jason and people around. He'd been actually living instead of just kind of surviving in the gutter like he had been since he and Jason split up back home.

But of course, he's Roy Harper, and things never stay okay for Roy Harper. At some point, he's going to come to terms with that, to just accept that after things get better they're always going to get worse.

It's been about a week since he woke up and Jason was just gone. Gone without leaving a note, without saying good-bye. Just disappeared. Since then, Roy hasn't really left Wayne Manor. He's barely even left his room, except to trudge to the kitchen and pour some hot water into a cup of ramen noodles. Maybe not the healthiest coping mechanism, but the bonus of not leaving the manor was that it limited his options when it came to alcohol - if nothing else, Jay had known him and never kept it where Roy knew about it. He'd managed to keep himself from tearing Jason's room apart looking for anything he might've had stashed, but he's pretty sure that Jason would've at least pitched the bottles out of the window before he left. Maybe. Hopefully he'd cared that much.

Today's the day, though. It's the day he's going to finally clean up and get out of the house. Go somewhere. Do something productive. Maybe it'll make him feel better, stop wallowing, to go out and participate in the world, to move his body, to get his life figured out.

It totally has nothing to do with the fact he's run out of ramen.]

i. gym

[After shaving the red fuzz off his jaw and having an actual shower, the first place Roy goes is to the gym. Dressed in a black tank top and a pair of sweatpants, hands wrapped up, a handkerchief wrapped around his head to keep his hair out of his face, he spends a long time hitting the punching bag in the corner. There's no grace or real skill involved, he's just hitting the bag over and over, letting himself take out some of the emotion.

That much shows on his face - Roy's always been crap at hiding what he's feeling, especially when what he's feeling is so intensely negative. His mouth is drawn down, his brows are furrowed, and it's pretty obvious he's punching out his feelings. It takes about 45 minutes of this before he's stepping back, resting a hand against the bag, and taking a few sharp gasps for breath, hair and tank top slightly damp with sweat.]

Damn. One week and I'm already out of shape.

ii. walkabouts & smoothies

[After the gym, he's tired but his brain is still buzzing unpleasantly, and he needs to move, needs to keep his mind off things. Needs a distraction, because all he wants is to be out of his own head for a bit. So he walks through the Quarantine, through the downtown square, takes a look at the tent cities going up in the park, he browses through stores and outdoor markets and asks people questions at booths and in shops just to keep his mind occupied.

Eventually, he's exhausted, dragging his feet, and he stops in a smoothie place to get something to drink. Leaning against the bar facing the window with his giant cup of green juice he can hardly taste, he rests his cheek in his hand and stares out the window, expression distant.]

This sucks.

[Quiet, ostensibly to himself, but definitely loud enough to draw attention. Whoops...doesn't even occur to him that he might come across as talking crap about the smoothie...]

iii. wildcard

Hit me up with a random starter if you'd like one, or shoot me a PM or message on plurk at caffemisto for a custom one.

Comments

[shootsoff]

[Whether or not they go today or later, Roy's got it in his head now - ask Finn to a movie sometime. And maybe he'd think of it like a date if he weren't so damn painfully aware of how much he doesn't really deserve a date with someone like Finn. Not when he's feeling like this, not when he's in this state, a barely-recovering addict struggling to cling to the wagon. Finn deserves better, just like Jason had (and who probably realized it, that's probably why he left the way he did) and Kori and everyone else he'd lost.

Pushing that thought aside, because all it does is make him want a drink, Roy waves his hand and exhales.]

Join me in the steam room then? It's really relaxing, and I could use that right now.

[A slight smile.]

Sound okay?

[That last question is a little uncertain, more than usual.]

[bythehand]

Sounds fine.

[ He's quick to agree. If it doesn't sound bad, no reason to think it won't be good. As far as harmless time-killing goes. Not that the line in the sand for Roy asking for things isn't well and truly out of sight regardless. The limit might not exist. ]

I like relaxing. [ Finn smiles back. Tips his head. Offers his best "after you" gesture. ] Not always good at it, but I like it.

[ So you know. Nothing personal if he proceeds to bring his posture with him. ]

[shootsoff]

[The quick agreement is kind of a relief, even though Roy feels that familiar surge of weird guilt he feels so often when someone is actually nice to him, agrees to his suggestions without needing to be coaxed and bribed. Like he's pulling the wool over Finn's eyes or something, like he's tricking him somehow. Who'd want to agree so easily to hanging out with someone like Roy anyway? Who'd want to try new things with that kind of easy trust with Roy?

It doesn't make sense.

Still, Roy's never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so he offers a shaky smile and ducks his head toward the locker room as Finn gestures that he should go first, and starts walking, tries to ignore the shakiness in his arms that gives him a vivid preview of how sore they're going to be tomorrow.]

Hah. I'm too good at relaxing.

[True, and the first little swipe he's taken at actually talking to Finn about what's going on in his head, what the real problem is - Jason leaving sucks, sure, but the root problem isn't really that. It's about how Roy's reacting, the desire to drink, how damn incapable he is of comforting himself without alcohol, how incapable he is of convincing himself of his own worth.

Heading into the locker room, he strips off his tank top, his shorts and underwear at the same time, and wraps a towel around his waist, glancing over his shoulder at Finn with a half-smile.]

I'll go get the room warmed up. See you in a sec?

[bythehand]

[ There is something in the way he says it. Words that sound like they may have been meant to be a joke, only for the tone to fall flatter.

Finn can't judge anyone for not being good at putting up a front, obviously, but it's definitely something that he notes. The more he's aware of, the more he notes, the better his chances are of helping more than hindering. Sometimes that goal is all he can really think to set.

He's got his shirt off and half-folded when Roy looks back. Someone has to be That Guy. That folding guy. Spend long enough in barracks and there's almost a comforting familiarity to a locker room like this one. Sort of the lack of ceremony that goes hand in hand with nudity. ]

If I get lost on the way, you've got permission not to let me live it down.

[ He will allow it just this once. Not that not allowing it ever keeps him from getting dragged by his beloved friends. Finn drops his shirt onto a bench and starts making quick work of his boots. ]