Spoilers for the ending of Bloodlines. Warning for some foul language and signs of depression.

Sucker punch

He really should have known better. He should have realized that sooner or later the other shoe was going to drop. Didn't it always?

Sure enough, just when he felt like he could pull his life back together again, when he could look into a mirror again and not loath the person staring back at him, just when he felt normal Life snuck up on him and sucker punched him.

He couldn't breath. He couldn't move. Hell, he couldn't even think up a smartass remark. He could only watch how Dimitri Belikov walked into the room. His room.

And there it was again, that darkness he was always struggling against, seeping back into his head as if it had never been gone. Perhaps it hadn't, maybe he had just been fooling himself.

He realized everyone was looking at him, even Belikov. The bastard didn't even have the decency to avoid his gaze. Of course not, not the brave guardian Belikov. He was a God, was he not? And gods didn't have to consider the feelings of mere mortals.

So yeah, it was Adrian who looked away and Adrian who turned and headed into the kitchen.

Sydney said ... something. He didn't listen. He couldn't. All around him was darkness, closing in on him like some kind of predator. Blinding him. Suffocating him.

The old man said something to him and Adrian fixed his gaze on him. They stood in the kitchen, his kitchen. The kitchen he had scrubbed. God, he had been so proud of that, so fucking proud it was just too pathetic. Just like he was. Pathetic.

"Adrian?" Abe said again and honest to god, the old man had concern written all over his face.

Adrian thought of a hundred different things to say to him. Snide comments, curses. He felt like yelling at him or even better, hitting him. But instead he looked away, down at the the counter he had scrubbed almost a lifetime ago.

"I need a drink."