YHow long how long until we come out on the otherside

@juan Outfit

Date:April 13th
Location:The Roadhouse

It was the night shifts that made Vic miserable sometimes. It was a straight rush for hours and then would die at the drop of a hat. No matter the time of year, the month or anything. It was kind of bullshit just how fast that it happened but in pubs and bar's it was rather common. He had been slinging liquor for what seemed like hours. He was getting tired and his break would be approaching sooner rather than later, at least he hoped so. Ymara had been nagging that he needed to take better care of himself and he knew that she was right, she usually was, but it was the moon. It took a tole on him, it always would. He was tired when he shouldn't be, and helping Tess too. Making sure that Rebecca didn't kill anyone when she got pissed off was a two person job. Sad as it sounded. They were tying to make her civilized. It worked on some days better than others, but that was just because of how she was. She was better than she used to be though, so he would give her that.

Cleaning tables as the rush finally lifted he couldn't help but smile as he looked up and someone came into the place. "Hey there! Welcome to The Roadhouse!" He greeted as some people came in and then went back behind the bar. Half of his job was being nice to people, even when he wanted to growl at them. He was the peace keeper of the pack, Bex was the enforcer. He was good at his jobs, so it came naturally. Someone sat at the bar and he smirked before walking up to them. "Hey there. What can I get you?"

outfit

It's been...a while, he thinks. Time passed slowly, almost too slowly for his liking and it was hard to say if the time that passed was a week or a century. Regardless, he had found his voice a while ago and asked Ampi to let him out. It had been met with a resounding no, of course, as he had expected already, but after telling her he'd go see Affy, that he'd be safe the entire time and that he didn't plan on making any detours on the way, she had finally relented. Juan was half sure that it had been more because he had spoken more then than he had since...since it happened but he couldn't care. Caring was hard, really. He hurt and he was cold but that was just about it. Anything else was too much. Of course, the others couldn't know. He smiled for Fer and for Cass, talked to Jason and wrote to Kasey and Hal. He even tried to eat, most of the time, even though all of the food ended up wasted because he couldn't keep it in. It was fine, it worked. Ampi was less worried, same for Fer. Juan didn't need to worry them on top of...everything. But the reason why he locked himself in his room was because he couldn't keep it up for long. Sooner or later he'd slip, he'd show how exactly he was feeling - or not feeling, maybe - and- It didn't matter. Everything was fine and it didn't matter. Juan had got permission to go to the Roadhouse and whilst moving felt like a chore and a half, he needed out. Needed out of their sight, of their worried gazes and tight smiles. He needed to be out of here. Even though the cold was so oppressive he shivered even when he was in front of the fire. Even though Juan felt so numb he might as well had died in that river.

Dressing had been...in a fit of anger, coming from who knew where, he had burnt half of his clothes before Leela had warned Ampi, who came over to pull him away and salvage what she could. It had- his clothes had been- thing was, he had dressed in the way he felt most comfortable with. Soft, light coloured sweaters, a lot bigger than his actual size. Nice jeans and comfortable trainers - and William's clothes more often than not, recently. That had been him, that had made him feel safe and warm and welcome. Now it just- he wasn't that person anymore. Twice had Juan been someone and twice those people died. Now he was...something else and he didn't know yet what. What he knew, though, was that he had scorned his old clothes that had been saved from the purge and picked up something that Ampi had bought for him when he first came over, before he had felt confident enough to go out and shop for himself. It didn't have any colours, which was good. It was also warm, which wouldn't make a single difference but better than nothing. Juan didn't bother with his hair, that was too long but also not long enough, and also didn't bother about the dark circles under his eyes. He could have asked Ampi for a spell, could have used makeup. But what was the point? It wasn't like the rest of him looked all that much better anyway. Picking up his lighter and the cigarettes that Fer had given him - with strict instructions of not smoking anything else other than what he or Ampi supplied, he left the room and took the Floo to London, not even answering the offers of Apparition.

Walking was good for him, allowed his head to be empty. Empty wasn't good but it was better than nothing, better than the rush of water and wanting what he could not- would never have. The smoke burnt his his throat and filled his lungs and he didn't even want to cough anymore because it was familiar. It was the only thing that didn't hurt in his body, that didn't feel frozen solid by a cold only he could feel. It was- he was alive, between one drag and the other, and not even Cass' disapproving stare could make him let go of it. Maybe he could, if the older man asked, but he didn't so Juan wouldn't offer. The way was long and his feet would hurt if he could feel them. But he couldn't so it was alright. By the time The Roadhouse came into view, Juan had finished his second cigarette and was mostly hiding his face behind the collar of his coat. It wasn't that cold, or cold at all, and people stared. He didn't notice.

The bell and a cheerful voice - though deep, throaty in a way that- no - greeted him and he looked up, cheeks flushed from the exercise and the heat that his body generated but he didn't feel. It was...a man. He had seen him before, a couple of times. Maybe. Faces- everything was blurred these days. Juan blinked and took a seat, fiddling with his lighter. "Hi," despite being a little scratchy from disuse and smoking, Juan's voice was soft still. That would change or it wouldn't. Will had liked him soft. Juan had been grimly satisfied to look in the mirror and see the sharp edges of his face coming out, from lack of food or stress or both. He was soft no longer. It didn't help him in the least. His voice, however, rather betrayed him. "Is Affy here? And I'll take a double of tequila, please."

Feelings were not something that Vic particularly liked. Mainly because his were usually all over the place and not something that he could handle with ease. He liked to think that when he was younger he would be able to forget the things that he felt. He could push it aside and could think of other things like what he was doing, or studying; but after the attack he had been filled with nothing but anger. After the attack he had been nothing but a ball of rage, because he thought that his life was over. He thought that his life was never going to be what it was and that he would always be alone. He didn’t like it, he didn’t like the way that it felt, to be alone because of something that had not been his fault. Ymara had been a blessing afterwards and he had thought that he had finally found someone who might accept him for him. Beast and all. However, that turned out to not be the case.

She loved him, he loved her, but she loved her job more. So he had ended things and once their son was born, he had taken Jericho. Of course, Jericho went to stay with her on weekends and times when she wasn’t working loads, but other than that Vic had him. She took him on full moons, or had a family member watch him when Juan couldn’t. Affy helped out when she could but she had a life of her own and two businesses to run. He couldn’t always rely on her. She did so much for so many, but he hated that no one ever did anything for her. If she wasn’t his boss he would have taken her out and shown her a good time.

As the man took his seat Vic wiped at the bar and then poured some drinks for a man down the bar and took the payment. He asked for Affy and Vic shook his head. ”Nope, sorry mate. She had Inventory last night so she won’t be in, but I’m the manager, maybe I can help you? Name’s Vic.” he said before giving the younger man a flirtatious smirk.
post here! Has a background.

Complicated didn't explain half of the things that were happening as of late, really. Juan- things hadn't been simple since the confirmation of his squib status, ever since his acceptance in school should have come but didn't. Of course, by then, everyone had more and less know but it still had been a shock. His mother had cried, he remembered, and his father refused to look at him. The only ones who cared to do anything at all had been Javier and Martín and even then their reactions had been distante and obviously disappointed. They had held out hope, all of them. Maybe he wasn't a squib, maybe he was just weak, maybe, maybe...It didn't matter. The most chilling reaction of all had been María Letícia's, who had pulled away from him long before already. She had closed her eyes and left and then days later- things had never been easy of course, not when no accidental magic ever happened on his side. But that day things got exponentially worse. The height of his problems hadn't even been his sister's attempt of murder, really. It had been his parents finding out that their useless squib son was too weak to serve the family in any capacity, that the ruthlessness and drive of their blood had skipped him all together. What use was he to them? None, really. An embarrassment with no chance of redemption, no possibility of making a name for himself within the ranks with skill if not magic. No, the only way he'd ever redeem himself and be something was if he died.

No one had ever openly said so, of course. Grandmother would have removed the tongue of anyone who merely suggested it, as she was wont to do to people who spoke ill of the Ávila within her hearing and that called him a disgrace. Whatever Juan was, he was her blood and a Ramírez and if she was disappointed in him, it was something she did not show - at least no more than what she usually did to the rest of the family. However, it had been strongly implied when the idea of him joining one of the cartels that his family used to fight their wars in muggle turf never disappeared, despite his obvious unsuitability for it. When it became clear that Juan was not made to fight, any caring parent would have taken precautions to make sure he'd never have to. His own likely saw it as a neat way to get rid of him without the guilt of kinslaying hanging over their heads. He had his grandmother and Ampi to thank for the fact he wasn't dead yet - except he didn't feel much like being thankful for being alive when everything hurt so bloody much. Death sounded less like an unfair sentence for something he couldn't help and more like...relief. Letting go. Like coming home after a hard day and sleeping- except forever.

Ampi, cruel that she was, denied him that. And now Juan had to live, despite the fact he barely felt alive anymore. Instead, he went through the motions and hoped this would pass. Hoped he'd get better. Hoped it would end. He heard talks between Fer and Ampi that his parents had been trying to get him to come back for weeks now. Maybe he should write them back, tell them to send someone to pick him up. Tell them that he was ready - for whatever it was that they needed from him. To serve, to do his duty. To die. He- Juan had wanted to die in his own terms but wasn't he supposed to do what was best for the family? If that was it, then there was no reason to delay. Not when he didn't have William or happiness or anything to live for anymore. To fight for. Gods, he was so tired.

Running a hand through his messy hair, Juan tried a smile. It was...something. Soft, tentative, brittle. He didn't think it fit his face, not shaven and too thin, too sharp. It used to, when he had clean, smooth, full cheeks. Now it likely looked out of the way. But the man was smirking at him and something made him want to smile back, even if it was this pathetic attempt. "Ah, that's too bad. I should have flooed her first," shaking his head, he tapped the side of his lighter and threw back his drink, barely acknowledging the burn. "Oh, no, thank you but it's nothing urgent. I disappeared for a few days and thought to pay her a visit. A pleasure, Vic, I'm Juan."

@vic

outfit

----- The Otherside -----

tag: @juan // words: 310 // notes: ---

It wasn’t like Vic had a lot of time to have a life and he knew that it wasn’t his fault. He did it to himself when he became manager, but he did it for Affy, for himself he got her to watch his kid. Which was not too much to ask since he did it for her all the time. He was happy about how they got things to work out and she even cooked for him. It was like they were a couple and they were still young. Only… He wasn’t and things were so beyond complicated that he didn’t want to worry about it really so he kept his distance when it came to that, after all, it was better that way.

Affy was one of those people that made friends no matter where they went, no matter what they did, she was lucky that way. She was funny, beautiful, and quirky. She made it seem lke she had no cared in the world, even though she was filled with troubles. Vic wished that he could do more to help her, but she refused. She didn’t want anything to do with charity and would only accept it it people did something for her in return. So he was wondering what kind of friendship this man had with her, and how far she was going to have to go for him.

”Ah, I got you. She should be around in a little while. She just will be closing since she has her son. Her baby sister is working right now.” He said with a wink before laughing a little. Jericho was due to start the day care soon and Vic knew that it meant more time for work and free time to keep his apartment clean. Instead of looking like a bachelor pad all the time.

template by eliza @ TB & THQ

Despite having been sheltered most of his life and not seeing people other than his family most of the time, Juan found it rather easy to make friends in Britain. Well, not that he realised it at first but hindsight was 20/20 and now that he could look back at his first months in this place, he knew that he'd had it easy. Cass and then Kasey, Affy and Jason and Hal. People that were supportive and kind, that welcomed him despite his awkwardness and shyness. They didn't have, they weren't his family, but they had. Being in Britain got easier having them around, being able to talk to them about things that he didn't want to speak to his family about. Juan- he thought that they were the reason he'd made it this far to begin with.

And then he'd gone and disappeared on them for a while, not answering messages and ignoring their questions. All that even before he'd decided that- that doing what he did was a good idea. That was why he'd fought Ampi to allow him to come over, that was why he was sitting here even if he'd rather have stayed home, hiding in his bedroom and pretending nothing was happening. Even breathing was a little hard right now but Juan had to make an effort. For his friends, yes, but also for himself. He had to live, there's no other option. Because the other option was taken from him. The one choice he'd made for himself and- and he'd been denied it.

It was easier not to think about that, easier not to think about anything other than the next minute or so. Trying to smile - and not entirely failing - had been the start of it. The drink- well, no one needed to know and Juan had enough self control that he wouldn't get another one. He wouldn't light a cigarette, he'd try and be normal for a couple of minutes. Though he had decided to do so as not to worry Affy, now he wanted to make it for himself. Placing the glass carefully on the counter, he tilted his head. "That makes sense, yes," spending time with her son was priority to her, Juan wasn't surprised. "I'll hang around for a while longer, maybe she'll show up." It wasn't like there was anything waiting for him at home anyway.

tags: @ vic

outfit

words: 399