Instinct and deduction lead him to guess it would be Kyo, the blonde calling in the almost ritualistic second-day apology. Chovek hoped that at the least, there would be no heavy-handed dinner invitation included. Regardless, he told himself, he would have to decline. He was schedualed to appear on stage in another hour, only stopping home to put away groceries and change appropriately. The playback on the time ended and the actual message began as Chovek reached to put away a carton of milk.

"Hey, uh, Chovek? Shhhit..."

Deffinitly Kyo, he could recognize the voice even through the distortion of telephone wires and poor recording quality. The thick native accent, the tail ends of some words running into the start of others as he spoke was somehow more prominant now. But it was muffled, sounded as though the phone were a few inches away and as if Kyo had been pressed against a wall while calling. Chovek paused as the message continued. It was also obvious from the Hekshanian's voice that he was very, very drunk.

"I think...I need...Criaka, nevermind, man I'm sorry." A long pause. Part of Chovek became irritated, indignant at the call. It just wasn't considered any type of good form to call when completely sodden. It wasn't so much that it was Kyo who was doing it as it was that a drunken phone call in any capacity was just obnoxious to deal with.

But on the other hand, there was that sort of quaking weak desperation in Kyotoshi's voice again. Not the nervous laughter, this was the kind he'd heard later in the evening they'd spent together, an hour or so after the last groaning sounds had faded from the bedroom. When Kyo spoke about his past, about his family and his friends, he began to shake. He tried to hide it, but he rattled like a puzzle being knocked apart. He would come undone, then, afraid of things he didn't dare put into words. Chovek saw it and tried his best to avoid it. Avoiding was something Kyo was only to glad to do.

Yet there it was again, now in his voice on the answering machine. Whatever the purpose of the call had been, it had not been birthed by guilt over what had transpired between them. This, Chovek knew too well from his time around Hekshanians, was a cry for help. He put the groceries back down into the bag, his jaw set.

He had a bad habit of responding to calls for help.

Kyo's muffled voice still garbled to the machine for a few more seconds, fumbling apologies and swear words mixed with vague references to people Chovek didn't know. The dancer inhaled deeply, his palms set flat against his kitchen table, and exhaled hard, puffing air upwards. His bangs flared a moment and came to rest unevenly over his eyes. Well, there was no time to waste. And at least he hadn't changed into his dancing clothes yet...he still wore simply jeans and a thin hood. Moving swiftly with the same wide stride as his hunter father, Chovek snatched his keys off the polished wood beside the message machine and left his apartment, making directly for the trains.

His thoughts followed a worrysome track as he boarded the express bound for the suburbs of town. He had only a vague idea of where Kyotoshi lived, the Hekshanian having rapidly and a little loudly explained the colours of the buildings on his street in one of his vain attempts to look sober. Chovek was worried that he would be too late, that as the train clicked steadily along over the tracks he had already missed a crucial window and Kyo had hurt himself or passed out.

This is not a good start to a relationship, Chovek chided himself. Kyo was nice, Kyo was very nice, and like everyone he had issues. Like all Hekshanians, his issues were not small, but unlike all Hekshanians, Kyo didn't seem to be able to function under the weight of his without help. COdependance was dangerous, and so was a person who went to alcohol first and companionship second. He was afraid, he was nervous, he was angry, he was on the verge of panic when the train finally reached Kyotoshi's stop and Chovek dashed through the crowd, vaulting a turnstile in his marathon run.

Kyotoshi's neighborhood was not high class. It wasn't dangerous, Chovek had a good sense of danger from some of the alien ghettos he had visited in his travels. No, it wasn't the kind of place he had to keep on his toes, but there were more than a few unpainted cement walls and water-stained warehouses boxing him in as he walked the blocks. The half-blood's eyes darted from street to street, from sign to sign, looking for anything which rang a bell in his mind but more afraid that in a panicked moment he might miss a critical sign and pass the houses all together.

He needn't have worried. Kyotoshi's description, that his housing block looked like a sudden strip of candy-coloured boxes, was accurate. Chovek saw it from a side street, dashed to it and saw immediately by the landmarks Kyo had described that night -a small traffic island with a stunted tree, a closed formal clothing shop- that it was right. He didn't know the number of Kyo's home, but he knew the colour and the colour of the neighbors'. His face a taut set of nervous muscles, Chovek didn't even notice the pair of grey furred Hekshanians who watched from the garage next door as he made single-mindedly for what he was sure was Kyotoshi's door.

Chovek didn't bother to knock, simply tried the knob. It swung open with no resistance, revealing a flight of narrow steps upwards and a door at the top. Muttering a muted swear to himself, Chovek shut the lower level door behind himself and sprinted the stairs two at a time. He didn't hear anything from above- no voices, no movement. The silence spurred his worry onwards as his thick fingers closed around the knob to give it a turn...only to find it locked.

Panic began to well up in Chovek's chest, the fur on his back prickling under his shirt and his mouth going dry. He felt a hole of fear open up in his gut but ordered himself to remain calm and to focus. He would do things one at a time, because he was here now, and this was where he needed to be. Not expecting a response, he brought his palm down hard and loud several times in the center of the door, trying to make as much sound as possible.

"Kyo, are you there!? Kyo, it's Chovek! Please open the door?"

And, to his surprise, there was a response. A heavy thud, the hollow jingle sound of glass falling to a wood floor but not breaking, followed by a low scraping and unintelligable mumbling. He heard the hard and uneven footfall of someone very drunk heading for the door, their pattern broken into chunks. One, one two one, one two, two. With another heavy thud, this one closer to the door, he felt the knob jerk around under his fingers. Kyo's voice came through the woodwork, unconcerned but inebriated, wondering what was wrong with the knob.

"It's locked."

"M' knew that." He could feel Kyo's hands clumsily undoing the lock, trying to open the door. At least, now, he could stop being so afraid. He knew Kyo was alive and probably unharmed, outside of being completely trashed. He would have skipped straight on to his next emotion and gotten angry if that weak plee for help in the message wasn't still fresh in his mind. Chovek pushed the door open as he felt the knob turn, finding himself chest to chest with Kyotoshi, the blonde holding himself up primarily by virtue of the door frame.

"Are you all right?"

"Shhh, y'll let the dahli out." Kyo's eyes wandered down, missing Chovek completely, focusing on the floor. The Hekshanian's hand slipped on the doorknob and his balance left him a moment, Kyo grabbing hold of the door frame with both hands to keep himself up.

Chovek tried to look past him into the apartment. It didn't smell like any kind of pet, though it did smell heavily of herbs and alcohol. The herb scent was on Kyo too, on his breath like a cough drop melted in a humidifier. Chovek put a hand on Kyo's chest and the Hekshanian didn't seem to notice. "You don't have a dahli, do you?"

Kyo shook his head. His grip on the door was lost momentarily and he staggered to keep standing. Chovek could see, he wasn't in any state to be answering questions. If Kyo had been drinking when he called at three, he certainly hadn't stopped by five when Chovek recieved the message. Chovek resigned himself. He'd unintentionally walked into a job entirely different than the one he had planned to go to today and there was no backing out at this point. Closing his eyes just a moment, the half-blood silently took one of Kyotoshi's arms and pried it away from the doorframe, looping it around his shoulders. Kyo latched on almost instinctively and Chovek helped him remain upright as they staggered back into the apartment.

From what he knew of Kyotoshi, Chovek was not surprised by the living quarters he encountered. The furniture was fine. Simple, servicable, but better for use in a poor college student's room. A ratty blue couch was pushed against the far wall and a round table with a handful of capped liquor bottles on top sat across from it. He did a quick glance left - kitchen, though it didn't look as if it saw much use other. Ahead might have been the bedroom, but all he could see was a dresser and a few books scattered across the floor. Turning carefully to deposit the blonde on his own couch, Chovek prepared a mental list of what he now had to do in order to successfully navigate his way out of this tangled mess. He could not simply walk out on Kyo, not seeing the Hekshanian as he was. When Chovek bent to straighten a nearly empty liquor bottle that lay on its side by the couch, Kyotoshi made a half-hearted attempt to grab for it, his fingers sliding around the bottleneck. Chovek picked it back up wordlessly. Kyo didn't seem to notice.

"Hey, thanks f'r comin', man, I mean..." he trailed off so completely that Chovek wondered if Kyo even remembered having started the sentance in the first place. The blonde tipped a moment, sliding along the back of the couch and lying on his side, squinting up his eyes in what looked almost like pain. He was so profoundly unattractive at that moment that Chovek felt a petty urge to just throw down the liquor bottle and leave well up inside him. He would push it down and best it, he would have to, because he was simply not that kind of person he told himself.

Sighing, defeated, Chovek turned and entered the kitchen. There was a phone on the wall, off the hook and dangling from its wire. He would have to phone in and miss work, he knew, and trying to get Kyotoshi to drink water or eat something was going to be a risky and potentially messy business.

But he had said in the message he needed something. Chovek had extended that invitation, and now he really was needed. Something had spurred Kyo to do this, he was sure, and he wanted to know what. And hadn't the Hekshanian already apologized enough, in advance?

Dropping the bottle in the sink with a dull thunk sound, Chovek realized he was quite sure that those apologies would not be Kyotoshi's last to him.

But trust me, Chovek thought angrily to himself. Trust me to pick the apologetic alcoholic.

Kyo's morning was over the minute he'd entered his front door. He mentally wound the clock well past noon, took the cap off the Chartruse as he climbed the stairs and drank long, heavy and with his toe-claws curling straight from the bottle. The glass felt soft and smooth against his lips and he licked around the top of the neck absently once the initial shudders had gone through his bones. Chartruse was not a friendly drink, it was not one which by any means was easy to swallow or meant for prolonged pulls. His nose, throat and eyes all burned.

But the twisting, dangerous sensation in his stomach subsided almost immediately and the vice grip on his temples began to release pressure. It tasted like a spice wrack gone horribly wrong, he always thought, but he never gave it thought for long. Chartruse had been his all purpose quick-fix when he had been dating Zara after the hospital. If she had been mad at him, if he had forgotten a date or a time, if she was just in a bad mood, he knew what would make all her aggression a distant echo in a matter of a few minutes.

It hadn't been Chartruse on the train platform, when she'd just grabbed him in front of everyone and told him to give back her key. That had been...He took another, smaller drink from the bottle and felt his tail curl up and the fur prickle out in response to the taste. That had been a coffee liquor, since it had been earlier in the morning. Jeez, she really didn't need to do that, did she? She could have just asked, he would have given them over when he found them. Yes, he'd already been drunk, but not as drunk as he was now and craika, she really didn't have to shout about it like a punishment with people all watching. They didn't need to know. They didn't need to care.

And then she went, weeks later, and told the host of a party to get him drunk so he'll sleep with a complete stranger...what kind of insane logic was that?! If they wanted him drunk at a party, fine, but where did the double standards start and stop? Was he like some kind of prom queen now, get him wasted and he would put out? Shit, he just wasn't like that. And that girl probably thought she'd done something wrong, now...

His thoughts spiraled and simplified for a few hours, winding down as the contents of the Chartruse bottle gradually drained. At noon he was sitting on the hardwood floor with his feet wrapped around the bottle, staring at the label but seeing nothing at all written on it, boiling his feelings down to two things which he could enunciate while holding up a finger for each.

"One, gotta tell the girl I'm sorry. Two, I gotta talk to Chovek."

Of course he had no idea where he was going to FIND the girl, or what he was going to say to Chovek when he talked to him. A few more hours wore on and he relocated to his bathroom, gripping the sides of the sink tight-knuckled and trying to stare himself down in the mirror looking serious, practicing what he would say, the Chartruse bottle balanced beside him on the top of the toilet tank like a personal councilor. He started lines of thought in his head, of how to address the both of them, and the words slipped out at his reflection. Some he stopped midway, because nothing about them was sounding right. Once or twice they were so off-target he gave himself a few quick slaps on the cheek to knock some sense in...But he didn't feel anything besides a distant, alien sting.

"C'mon, c'mon, shit, that's just drunk rambling." He shook his head and took another drink, trying to keep one eye locked on his reflection. He didn't like the way he glared at himself when he was drinking, so he went back to the living room.

At three he phoned Chovek, but realized he didn't know what to say yet and hung up before too many words got out.

At around five, he was still drinking, but only when he remembered he had been, which was coming in flickering bits of thought. Somehow concious thought had lit off but his ultimate goal remained. A hammering on the door dragged him out of something close to sleep and he lurched to answer, because no matter how drunk he was, he was not going to be rude.

For the next hour or two, Chovek helped him stagger out of the Chartruse haze he'd gone running into. He didn't want to leave it, but he didn't want to fight with anyone either, so he went along. He was sick twice, the third time there was nothing left to be sick with but his body kept trying to flush out the poison it knew it had swallowed down.

Chovek gave him water, kept him unevenly on his feet through a shower and guided him to his bed where he gave up resistance and slept.

It was the first time he'd got to sleep in his own or any bed for two days.

But it had been an awful day. The only thankful aspect was that he wouldn't remember the majority of it when he woke up again. Such was the healing power of the Chartruse.