If Only I Could Make You Mine

Dante lay on the floor of his newly cleaned living room, staring up at the ceiling. The multiple beer bottles and pizza crusts littering the floor had been trashed, and he had also vacuumed. A new ceramic ashtray replaced the broken one. Using his unemployment check, he bought Pledge, Windex, and Fantastic, rushing through the apartment and scrubbing away the fears and thoughts that plagued him. The kitchen floor gleamed. The refrigerator looked full when he opened the door. He had gotten rid of the alcohol in the apartment: the vodka in the freezer, the whiskey in the kitchen cabinet underneath the sink, and the small "emergency" bottle of whiskey in the bathroom cabinet. The only bottle he missed was the small bottle of Jack Daniels he had hidden behind some DVDs on the entertainment center remained in its space, but only because he didn't remember putting it there.

An hour ago, Chris had called to see if Dante wanted to hang out, but Dante had told him he couldn't.

The apartment smelled fantastic -- no pun intended. For the first time in months, Dante felt honestly proud of himself. He still doubted that he could change, that he could make Astrid happy, and that he could ever be a father, but he felt like he had taken a step in the right direction.

He reached for his cell phone on the coffee table and dialed Astrid's number. It was five o'clock. Listening to the phone ring in his ear, he hoped that she was up -- even though he had no idea what he was going to say to her.

Astrid herself had been awake for several hours: having scored the day off for a doctor’s appointment, she was more than elated to have another day off in her shitty week. Plus, she was interviewing three people tomorrow, so with any luck, she could fill the other position and have her life back. Once work settled down, she decided she was going to school – and to look for a better job.

At the moment, however, she was finishing up putting away her folded laundry in her room. The entire house was silent, since Mr. and Mrs. Liljegren went to Arizona to visit some family. They’d be gone until the following week. Normally, Astrid would have called all her friends over for a party – she had before, on a few occasions back in high school. The memories made her smile slightly, though somewhat sadly. She was a little too old for that now, though many of her peers would have disagreed. She was nearly twenty-three, and already she felt like an old woman. That was another thing that needed to change – she needed to stop stressing out, loosen up a bit.

It had been over a week since their parting at Denny’s, and Dante had been quiet. She expected that. So when her phone began to ring on her nightstand, she raised an eyebrow at his name on the display, but picked up all the same. “Hey, Dante.”

"Hey," he said, relieved that she wasn't ignoring him. He glanced around the room, finding it soothing that he could actually move around in it. Everything felt clean and new. Even the couch smelled good, thanks to Febreze.

He sighed. "I don't know where to start. Things have been so shitty, and I didn't realize that everything I was doing was affecting us. And me." He paused and shook his head. "No. I need to say that I didn't realize my drinking so much was affecting you. Us. Me. I didn't even realize that I was drinking so much. I don't know how I couldn't have." He knew the signs: an agitated father, a crying and isolated mother. When he stepped back and looked at the big picture, there wasn't much of a difference between Mr. and Mrs. Cerevino's relationship and Dante's relationship with Astrid. Except, he reminded himself, he had never hit Astrid. He had hurt his hand, badly, and he had called her a tyrant and made her cry, but he hadn't physically hurt her. Yet. The thought made him want to vomit.

"Anyway," he said, sitting up and physically shaking his head and shoulders as if to shake everything off, "I threw everything out. No beer, no vodka, no whiskey. I might even throw away the one-hitter. And," he said, grinning, "I cleaned the whole place."

As Dante sighed and began to talk, Astrid cradled the phone between her shoulder and ear, listening as she finished putting away her clothes and set the hamper down, sitting down on the foot of her huge bed. The part where he said he hadn’t realized he had been drinking so much sounded like the truth to her; after all, he had been so indignant and insistent that it wasn’t that bad. Breathing in through her nose, she closed her eyes, straightening her back. She was sure Dante was a good person beneath the alcoholism, the rough and shady past with his family. Some people on this planet were inherently evil, and there was no redemption for them – but Dante … she could tell Dante was beginning to really want to make things right.

Opening her eyes, she smiled softly at the thought of him cleaning. “Everything out, huh?” Her voice was lightly, a bit airy as if she was teasing him – she believed that he dumped everything, though as they both knew, there was nothing physically stopping him from replenishing his supply. Even so, it was a step in the right direction. “Cleaned the whole place? I don’t even know if I can picture that.” She laughed with a little grin. “That sounds great, Dante.”

He stretched and chuckled, feeling kind of like a little kid. "I even Febrezed," he said. He didn't need AA; he had his own twelve-step program: clean the house, use Febreze, and throw out the booze! He felt airy, too, as if he had taken something. He almost felt giddy. There was even a good amount of money left in his checking account.

"Listen," he said, pushing off from the floor and searching for his car keys. "I have some extra money from my unemployment." Had he told her about that? Oh well. No worries! They could talk about everything they had missed in the last few weeks, play catch-up. "I was thinking I could take you to the mall, take you shopping?" He bounced the keys -- found on his kitchen counter -- in his hand. The summer sun coming in through the kitchen windows felt exhilarating on his skin. Things were so, so good.

Astrid paused, blinking at his sudden perky tone; pulling the phone from her ear and glancing at him. Did she hear him right? He wanted to take her shopping? “Uhm,” she said, a bit flabbergasted. He had mentioned losing his job, so the unemployment check mention did not surprise her, though she made a small mental note to ask him about that. “Well, we, uh …” She was more flustered than she thought. Brows knitting together, she tried again. “We could get together if you want, but you don’t have to take me shopping. You should probably save that money …”

What had gotten into him? Clearly this was him trying to make a chance, but she found this new Dante a bit unnerving – but then, maybe she was making things out to be bigger in her head than what they really were. They’d only seen each other twice in the past three weeks; it would be nice to hang out with him, maybe talk again. He seemed cheerful and reasonable enough.

"Aww, come on! It'll be fun. You can try on lingerie." He winked, then remembered she couldn't see him. "There's a wink after that," he said. "I'll pick you up?" He spoke quickly, barely pausing between his words. It was like his brain was brand new; he could see every detail, everything felt so fresh and perfect and great.

He just felt so damn good.

Astrid was conflicted. Dante being cheerful was not normal, so she was slightly apprehensive – on the other hand, maybe this was him making an honest effort. He said he was not happy with things either; perhaps this was Dante’s way of trying to rectify things. She wasn’t sure why he wanted to take her out shopping, and she hoped he wasn’t consciously attempting to ‘buy’ her back, so to speak. Still, she could indulge him with her company. And he was so damn happy-sounding, she couldn’t refuse him. Briefly, she saw her old boyfriend, before things got too complicated.

“Alright, alright,” she laughed. “Come and pick me up in twenty minutes, then.” A cursory glance to the mirror: she’d put on a little make-up and change her shirt.

"Okay, cool, see you then!" He hung up and walked out the door.

Almost twenty minutes later, he pulled up to her place, fingers tapping out the drum beat to Megadeth. They could grab something to eat (maybe even at an actual restaurant, instead of the food court or Denny's again), do some shopping (he would love a new CD), and just hang out. Things would be just like normal -- the way they used to be. He refused to say or do anything negative that might start another fight. He would not call her a tyrant, he would not make her cry, and he would not think about having a drink.

He glanced anxiously at her front door, as if she may have changed her mind at the last minute and decided to barricade the door. Remembering her hinting that she didn't want to be alone with him, that she was afraid of him, he kept glancing from the digital display on the dashboard to the front door.

Astrid was in the middle of putting on her black Oxford heels (short heels, of course – she saved the stilettos for going out and other special occasions, lest she break her neck in them) when she heard the sound of a car pulling up into the driveway. Peeking out the front window, she confirmed it was Dante before picking up her purse, and turning to the mirror on the wall by the door to check her reflection. She had to admit it, she looked great: her hair was still a deliciously vibrant dark crimson, her make-up was nearly flawless, and the shirt she had changed into suited her black skinny jeans well. Over time, she noticed how her style evolved: from grungy punk rocker teenager, to well-dressed and polished adult. Interesting how these things happened.

One final long look in the mirror – she told herself not to worry, to just try to have a good time – before she stepped out the front door, purse over her shoulder. Making her way to the car, she slid inside, smiling congenially over at him. “Hey,” she said, suddenly almost shy.

His eyes roamed from her heels to her hair, his face wearing a soft and crooked smile. He felt like a teenager again, remembering when he first saw her at one of Chris' long ago parties. "Hey," he said.

Seeing her had a calming effect; Dante's very molecules stopped jumping all over the place, and he continued to glance at her as he put the car into drive and pulled away from her house. "You look nice," he said, eyes flicking down to his nearly retired jeans and Nirvana tee shirt. A horrible thought occurred to him: What if she grew out of him? Sweat beaded on his upper lip, and he wiped it away with the back of a hand.

Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on driving and making small talk. "How was your day?"

Astrid smiled at the compliment as she buckled in, leaning back in the car seat. “Thanks,” she said, glancing out the window as they pulled away from the house. “My day? Uhm … it was okay. Had a doctor’s appointment. Did laundry. That’s really about it – I go back to work tomorrow, so, you know how it is.” Or he used to, anyway. That’s right, she had to ask him about his job! Just as she was about to, the thought occurred to her that, really, she probably already knew the answer.

“How was yours?” She said, a little lamely. Small talk like this seemed okay – they hadn’t had any time to catch up, though as Astrid really thought about it, she didn’t have anything new to report to him. “So you really cleaned, huh? That’s impressive. Were you that bored?"

He laughed. "No, I just... I dunno. I just had to do something, you know?" He jumped onto the highway, urging the car up to fifty, sixty, then an even seventy.

"My day was okay. I was at the tattoo shop this morning, cleaning toilets like usual. One of the guys might be leaving, so the position might be mine, but I'm not holding my breath. It's all right, though. My unemployment check was pretty nice." He wanted to ask her about the doctor's appointment, but told his mind to shut up. Her wanting a family and going to the doctor just a week later had to be a coincidence, that was all.

She laughed a little, shaking her head. “At the rate I’ve been working, I’d almost kill to be unemployed right now. I’ve been so tired.” Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the window, watching the road. “Thankfully that’s all going to come to an end – the stress is really taking its toll on me. Hence the doctor’s appointment.” In case there were any misconceptions; she knew that deep down, Dante was not much different than she was when it came to over-analyzing things.

Sitting up a bit, she looked back at him. “At least you’ve got something to help occupy you; the tattoo shop, I mean.” It wasn’t much of a comfort, though. She knew how badly he wanted to move up at the shop and become a real artist – maybe things would be better for him now he was trying to change his life.

“I’ve been thinking about going back to school.” She wanted to fill the silence between them, keep the flow of positive conversation going. “I have my associates, maybe now it’s time to get my Bachelor’s, so I can get a real job. No more of this grocery store crap, I want a job that I actually somewhat like.” At least something that pertained to her interests – like Dante and the tattoo parlor. She envied him in that respect, even if he was doing basic grunt work.

Dante glanced at her, then quickly looked back at the road. He wished that he could go to school, but his high school grades had sucked and he had no special skills other than playing guitar, drawing, and fucking things up when they were going well. Still, she had asked him just a week ago how he would take care of her and their hypothetical family. Although he was relieved that the doctor's appointment was just normal, the possibility of an accident or Astrid wanting more was now too real, and he had no idea how he was going to live up to that.

He swallowed hard. Refusing to let anything ruin his elation, he tried to turn the happy back on. "Well, one of us has to actually succeed at life," he said, winking.

Poor Dante. Astrid didn’t really realize just how much pressure she had put on him. She looked over at him, a little surprised – she hadn’t meant anything against him. “There’s no reason you couldn’t go back to school if you ever wanted to,” she said softly, feeling a little guilty. “I just … I don’t want to get stuck, is all. I don’t want wake up as an old woman and realize I’m still cashiering in a freaking grocery store.” She shook her head, sending red strands to and fro.

Dante, however, could viably make a living from tattooing if he ever had the chance. She’d watched him practice on Chris one day a year or two back: Chris wanted Dante to ink a small, old school-looking bomb on his ankle. She remembered watching Dante, how skillfully he maneuvered the gun, the concentrated look on his face as he easily but carefully inked on the straight lines. Hell, Dante could do much more with himself … what, exactly, Astrid didn’t know. “Isn’t there anything you would want to learn? Or what would be your ideal job?”

He shook his head. "I know you didn't. And I dunno. I have no idea what I want to do. Something. Something that makes money." He shrugged and signaled for the mall exit.

"I did a touch-up the other day, though," he said. "As long as this guy leaves, I'm in. I still want a grownup job, though. Something you have to get an education for, so no one can say you're unqualified or not doing anything with your life." He shrugged again. The ecstatic feeling from before was fading, and he knew he had to lighten the mood before he got too serious. "What are you gonna go to school for?" He asked, continuing with the idle banter.

Clearly Astrid’s words had gotten to him. Dante was not someone that was overly concerned about making money – so long as he had enough to scrape by on, he was fine. Money did not hold the same security to him as it did to her, and that’s where her guilt had come in. She wondered if he took to heart what she said about wanting a family: ideally, she had hoped that he would eventually want the same thing. If not, then she wasn’t entirely sure what would happen. Even now, she couldn’t tell if he was opposed to the idea, though hopefully children would still be a long way off for them. Just because Astrid was certain she wanted a family one day did not mean she was in a hurry to begin.

However, it seemed like he had done a lot of thinking. She wondered about the remark about not doing anything with ones’ life, trying to remember if she had said anything to that effect the previous week. Uncertain of whether or not she did, she still warmed to the idea, because she knew in the long wrong, he’d benefit from obtaining real life skills. “I don’t know yet. I’m torn between psychology, nursing, or maybe something practical, like business, or education, or whatever.” She was more inclined to the first two herself. “I don’t know, though, I need to figure out how I can pay for school … I need to talk to my parents.” The Liljegren’s had been on Astrid to finish her schooling; easy for them to say, since they each had their Master’s, and her father was beginning his Doctorate. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to invest so much time into school, but the future was still wide open on that one.

It had been quite some time since they had been to Woodfield – the last time Astrid remembered coming here was when they went Christmas shopping a year or two back. She smiled to herself as they cruised the parking lot for a space, before finally pulling into one and getting out. This was going to be a good day, she decided as she stretched her arms outside of the car. She was going to make damn sure of it.

Dante wished that all he had to do was talk to his parents. After almost twenty-three years of practically raising himself, he doubted they would care now, nor would they be willing to pay for any school expenses. In many ways, Astrid had it really good, and he felt like he was just bringing her down.

Sighing, he followed her into the mall, hands jammed into his front pockets. He tried to recall the way he had felt before leaving the house, but it seemed like his earlier (over) enthusiasm had taken off without leaving so much as a note. Still, he was determined to not let his cloudy thoughts and worries ruin their night. "Are you hungry?" he asked, forcing a little enthusiasm into his voice.

If only Astrid realized what a hole she had dug for them both. She hadn’t meant to send Dante into self-doubt, nor had she meant to flaunt the help she could get from her parents. The thought sent a small cringe inward, and she resolved to be more careful of what she said and how she said it, least she bothered him. She felt like she had done enough damage to his poor psyche to last him a life time.

“Sure, I’m hungry.” As if on cue, her stomach rumbled quietly; she had eaten breakfast, but skipped lunch that day. “What are you in the mood for?” She left his side to head a few feet off to the left to examine the mall directory.

Sensing her worry, Dante bent down and kissed her forehead. He straightened up and looked at the directory, his head cocked to one side. "Uh." His stomach growled, loudly, and he tried to remember when he had last eaten. This morning? Last night? "It's up to you," he said. "We can eat at a restaurant, the food court, whatever."

Leaving it up to her, he scanned the directory for men's clothing stores. He wanted to replace the tee shirts and jeans he had worn since high school for something more sophisticated, mature. The problem was, he didn't know what mature men who listened to death metal and grunge wore. Luckily, he had Astrid with him for advice, but he didn't want to make too big a deal out of it. He suspected that she would suspect him of trying too hard if she knew all of the things running through his mind. He rolled his eyes at himself. He was turning out to be a real head case.

Luckily for Dante, Astrid already had a few ideas of her own when it came to clothes. She was female after all, and since he seemed keen enough to get on track, she figured maybe getting him out of jeans and t-shirts might help give him a boost. She knew once she shed her own casual image into something a little more feminine, she felt much better about herself, and though it would be a step for Dante, perhaps it would make a difference. Secretly, she was plotting on taking him to some stores to see if she could get him to try anything on.

That, however, would have to wait until later. She read through the list for apparel first and made a few mental notes, before examining what the mall had to offer for food. “You wanna go to Todai?” She asked, referencing the Japanese and seafood buffet. She knew one of the hostesses there who could hook them up with a discount, provided she was working today.

"Uh-huh." He frowned. There were three -- possibly four -- sports stores, a Hot Topic, PacSun, Hollister and Abercrombie (he would die first) and the standard department stores: Sears, Macy's, JCPenney. The thought of walking into one of the department stores made him feel like he should just hit rock bottom and buy loafers.

"Huh? Yeah, Todai is fine," he said, forcing himself to look away from the directory. "I could go for some sushi. They do have sushi, right? It's been way too long."

Astrid couldn’t imagine Dante in loafers. The stores that caught her eye ran more along the lines of H&M, Ralph Lauren, Urban Outfitters, and the like – she’d spent the day before scrolling through sites, looking for things for herself before her mind began to wander on how she could improve Dante’s style. This, however, would probably have to take place in baby steps, but she would be patient. In the meantime, she tallied up a list of stops along the way in her mind, before she turned to smile at Dante. “Yes, they have sushi. They have pretty much anything along the lines of seafood and Japanese food, so I think you’ll be happy.”

Leading the way downstairs, she suddenly felt a wave of exuberance spread through her, making her feel giddy and slightly light-headed. This was going to be something positive: even though she sensed Dante’s move taking a slight nosedive, she was not to be undeterred. She would take the reins if she had to!

And so, she marched them to the front of the huge buffet/restaurant. Sure enough, her friend Emiko was sitting behind the counter, mouth opening in surprise at the sight of Astrid. “Assi!” The young Japanese woman came around the counter to embrace her old friend – they took a moment to chatter girlishly between them, before Astrid turned to Dante. “Dante, this is my friend from school, Emiko. I don’t know if you remember her, but we were in Creative Writing together for Junior year. Emiko, this is Dante.” She only had a second to make a snap decision on how to introduce him: calling him her boyfriend was probably not entirely accurate at the moment (Were they truly broken up? Stuck in relationship limbo?), and friend seemed much too fillipant. She didn’t want to hurt Dante’s feelings, so she bypassed the relationship part, settling instead to introduce him by name.

“Good to meet you, Dante.” Emiko smiled broadly at the young man, before turning to Astrid. “Here, let’s find you guys some place to sit.” She cheerily headed off inside the restaurant; Astrid turned and gave Dante a small smile, before following her friend.

They were given a table next to the window, far enough from the crowd of other people seated, but close enough to the long, winding counters that displayed trays upon trays of tantalizing Asian fare. Todai, Astrid decided, had been a good choice. “Thanks, Emiko,” she said to her friend with a smile. “Can I get a Pepsi, no ice, please?” While Emiko got Dante’s drink order, she removed her light sweater, her purse, setting them down on the chair beside her.

“I’ll be right back with your drinks – go ahead and enjoy, you two!” And with that, Emiko bounced back off out of sight. Astrid, meanwhile, grinned over at Dante.

“Ready to get stuffed?” With lots of delicious food, of course!

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "Last one back to the table pays." Of course he would pay, but he took off for the buffet before she could respond. Grabbing a plate, he began weaving through the aisles, piling on things he didn't know and things he was familiar with -- crab legs, teriyaki chicken, white rice, and sushi of course -- without really looking at them. He needed to regroup, and grabbing food was the perfect excuse.

As he reached for a few pieces of shrimp tempura sushi, Dante too thought about their romantic status. Astrid had not called him her boyfriend, but that didn't mean anything, right? His eyebrows knotted as he stared at some other sushi he had never seen before. He missed high school, as much as he hated to admit it. Things were so much less complicated then, even though he had all but dropped out in order to work so he could keep the apartment he rented in his sister's name. He needed to call Val; he hadn't spoken to her in a few months.

His plate almost overflowed. Dante looked down at it and sighed, then headed back to the table. Couldn't he be someone else, just for the next couple of hours? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Astrid. He slowed, pretending to consider something that looked like seafood but could have been some kind of alien. He didn't want to be the first one back, race or not.

Meanwhile, Astrid took her time selecting her food, lost in her own thoughts. Hovering over near the soups, she debated whether or not she wanted the udon or miso. Sighing, she settled for a cup of miso, half-wishing that was the hardest choice she'd have to make. Glancing back over her shoulder, she looked across the way at Dante. Something about the way he looked made ... well, something in her stomach break.

She loved him. He had been the most important person in her life the past four years; she couldn't just turn her back on him. He had been more than her boyfriend, he had been her best friend. He knew all her secrets, her private thoughts and desires. He knew her inside and out.

On the other hand, she felt like her grasp on him had slipped drastically. He knew her well - but how well could she say he knew him?

Stop, she told herself. She needed to be in the moment, focus on him. If she stopped thinking, started observing him, read his body language, maybe she could learn something about him. Biting the bullet, she returned to the table to discover, unsurprisingly, she had gotten there first.

Dante eyed his overflowing plate for renegade rice balls as he carefully weaved through the buffet tables and other people, reaching his and Astrid's table seconds after her. "I'm not sure I'm gonna finish all of this," he mumbled as he slowly set the plate down and slid into the booth.

Things had changed between them, but Dante couldn't be sure whether the change had occurred because of his drinking, or if their individual personalities had changed too drastically for them to be together. Face it, he wanted to say to her. We've grown apart; you've grown up and I've gone absolutely nowhere. Just looking at their appearances told him just how much things had changed. Astrid had morphed into a woman, while Dante remained a clueless teenager trapped in a man's body. No wonder those public service announcements always encouraged a strong paternal presence in children's lives.

He shoved something that might have been calamari but didn't quite taste like it into his mouth, chewing slowly and then swallowing before speaking. He hated to ruin the light tone of the day, but he hated even more to pretend like his head hadn't turned into a whirlpool. He set down his chopsticks and looked at her.

"You think I've got enough food? I don't even know what this is," he said, pointing to the calamari thing and mentally kicking himself for being such a chicken. "It's good, though."

Astrid laughed, gesturing to her own plate. “Are you kidding me? I’m not sure I’ll be able to finish this.” Should have smoked a joint before we left, she thought to herself. Still, her appetite was healthy after being on the rails for the past few weeks – she was beginning to grow concerned that the only time she could really eat was after she smoked. It was difficult enough to get herself on a healthy eating pattern, so taking a toke or three off a joint every two hours was damn near impossible at work. She did it here and there when she knew she could get away with it, but still …

Even so, the food was delicious: the sushi was a burst of many different flavors in her mouth, so good that she skipped over the soy sauce. It was clear she had been very selective in her food choices – if one didn’t know any better, it would seem like she was watching her weight. Astrid was a slender thing, but over the past few months, she noticed that, while she retained her girlish figure, her breasts and hips had begun to grow just a bit. She wasn’t bothered by her newfound curves – in fact, she had begun to re-do her wardrobe around them. But there was still the paranoid fear that she would one day become like the rest of America’s population, and that did not sit well with her. May as well start prevention early, right?

She was focusing on her miso soup now, leaning forward with her lips pursed to blow, ladylike, on the soup. Glancing over to Dante, she smiled at him after swallowing the mouthful of miso. “This is really nice, Dante,” she said honestly, heartfelt. “I’m really glad you invited me out.” Astrid was merely happy to get out of the house to spend some time with him. Maybe this was what they needed to help give them a boost to get back to normal – whatever normal was.

Maybe, by dredging up the bad stuff, he would ruin their chances at fixing things.

"It is nice," he agreed, setting his questions about their status aside for the moment. He needed to focus on the here and the now, and put all of his energy into having a good time. He wished he could figure everything out instantly -- or at least figure out how he was going to prove himself to her. Ever since their conversation about the future, Dante had turned his mind over and over trying to figure out how he would take care of Astrid and their hypothetical family.

As they ate, he watched the way her newly red hair caught the light, noted the curves that he had somehow missed as they appeared. Not only did she have her shit together -- she looked like she had her shit together!

"You look good," he blurted.

Astrid looked up suddenly, a bit surprised at the sudden remark. “Oh, you think so?” Straightening up a bit, she grinned. “Yeah, I’ve, uhm … put on a few pounds over the past few months somehow, but not too many.” She finished off her miso, and resumed eating her teriyaki chicken. “I thought I looked okay, but you know.” A dismissive shrug as she pulled back strands of hair behind her ears as she ate, wishing she’d remembered a hair tie. Too late now.

After his remark on her appearance, she really began to examine his discreetly as they continued chatting and eating. He hadn’t put on much weight himself – in fact, he definitely looked as though he lost a few pounds. Astrid supposed that’s what happens when you drink your calories, but it was still a bit unsettling. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d had sex, and searched her memory banks. Had he looked so thin then? Even the bagginess of his clothes couldn’t mask his gauntness, because it was beginning to show on his face. Dante looked different too – still handsome, of course, but also a little older than his near twenty-three years. The realization depressed Astrid.

When they finished, he had settled the bill; bidding Emiko farewell and stepping back out into the mall, Astrid glanced around. “Alright,” she said, turning to him with a wide grin. “Where do you wanna start first? Any suggestions?” She’d already made up her mind that this was going to be a good day; time to turn back on the cheeriness.

Dante shrugged and dropped into a bench, rubbing at his face with his hands. Waves of heat washed over him. He swiped sweat off of his forehead and wiped the palms of his hands on his jeans. He had hoped he could get through this shopping trip without the hot flashes, hoping that he was out of the woods (a quick Google search days ago had told him he might deal with the nausea and sweats for over a week). Maybe cold turkey was not the best idea. Maybe he should just have a shot of something, just to make this stop for a while.

"Wherever you want," he said. "Just give me a minute." He leaned over, balancing his elbows on his knees, and put his face in his hands. At least he wasn't having any weird hallucinations. He had read some horror stories on one website. He peered between his fingers, afraid that Astrid would be watching him, disappointment clear on her face.

When Dante did raise his head up, he could see that Astrid’s face was full of concern. Eyebrows raised high as she dropped down on the bench beside him, a hand snaking around his arm to rest on his knee. “Dante,” she said, voice gentle, “are you alright?”

She was no fool – she knew what this was. She searched the recesses of her memory banks; long ago, she had looked up alcoholism, its causes and symptoms and what to expect when going cold turkey. Recalling that list, she realized that was precisely what was happening: he was going through withdrawal, which meant he truly had gone cold turkey. The thought touched her, but also caused worry; this was liable to push him back over the edge. An irrational voice told her it was her job to make sure he stayed on the wagon at any cost: move into his place to keep an eye on him night and day. But that was ridiculous, she told herself. Dante was a grown adult, and this was the choice he made. Therefore, he had to live with it – at least, with her to help take care of him.

He was looking better, but she made no move to get up, instead moving closer so their legs were touching. “Is there anything I can do?” Reason told her no, but the maternal mother hen instinct had taken over. She was not getting up until he was ready.

He took a deep breath, trying to force the nausea away. He remembered his mom rubbing his sister's wrists, on a rare occasion when she had pretended to mother them. The Cerevinos had gone on a cruise, and Val was violently seasick. The pressure points, he remembered, eased the nausea. He found the soft bone easily; before, he had not realized just how much weight he had lost. He pressed the pad of his thumb against the place where he felt his pulse the strongest, and began rubbing in a clockwise motion.

"Shoot me," he said, smiling weakly. "This is normal, though, for stopping," he added quickly, not wanting her to think he had drank too much the night before or something. He realized she might already know that, but he didn't want any assumptions made. Again he thought of having a single shot. He would feel so much better if he just had that shot. During his Googling, he had learned that a hangover was actually alcohol withdrawal. Maybe it wasn't true, but it made sense; he had felt hungover for the past week. Besides, when you were hungover, drinking a beer first thing in the morning -- after aspirin -- helped.

Dante took another deep breath and stopped rubbing. For the moment, at least, the nausea and hot flashes had passed. "Okay," he said, getting to his feet shakily. "Where to? Lead the way." Nothing was going to ruin this day, not even his stupidity at thinking he could self-detox.

The poor thing. Astrid could only watch as he rubbed his wrist, observing his fixed gaze. In her heart, she knew he had quit cold turkey, and wasn't just giving her lip service. Dante was not that great of an actor, and it was hard to pull off looking as ill as he did. "Give it a minute," she said, palm resting flat on his leg.

When she seemed satisfied that he would be steady enough to get up, she rose to her feet. "Let's go over here." She curled her arm around his to keep him close, steady on his feet; leading him over to the front of H&M that was split down the middle, guys clothes on the left, girls on the right. Instead of bee-lining to the ladies section, she went for the guys, straight to the rack of jeans. "We need to find you new jeans," announced Astrid as she shuffled through the piles. She didn't have to give his present pair a pointed glance; they both knew the state of all his pants

"Try these on," she said after a minute, handing him three or four pairs of pants with a wide, but slightly expectant smile.

He obeyed, trotting off to the dressing room. He glanced over his shoulder at her a couple of times, his eyebrows furrowed. How had she known he wanted to look for new clothes? And, why hadn't he thought of H&M? It had worked out pretty well; now he didn't have to ask for her help, but he also didn't have to admit what he thought their very different appearances meant.

In the dressing room, he yanked off his old jeans and tossed them onto the bench. He pulled on one of the pairs Astrid had handed to him, zipped the fly, and buttoned them. He didn't have to look in the mirror to know they didn't fit; even with a belt, they would still be loose.

Dante opened the door and poked his head out. "Hey Astrid," he called. "Maybe I should have eaten more."

At the sound of his voice, Astrid looked up at once from the rack of shirts that she had been perusing. Regal brow furrowing into a frown, she abandoned her search, and headed over to the dressing rooms. Slipping inside his changing room, she looked him up and down, a pale hand raising his shirt to examine his abdomen, his hips; taking in the looseness of the denim waistband literally took her breath away.

She drew in a deep breath, looking up in his face: for the briefest of moments, her green eyes were glassed over. “Oh, Dante,” she sighed suddenly, impulsively wrapping her arms around him. As she held him to her full chest, his gauntness seemed all the more apparent. Head and face buried in the curve of his neck and shoulder, she held him tight for several long moments. Had she done this to him? Her lip quivered at the thought, but in the end she firmed, and released him.

“You’re right: we need to work on fattening you up.” Astrid’s voice sounded more light-hearted than it had before, and she offered him up a smile. “I’ll be right back.” She turned away and was out the door, brusquely strolling back over to the jeans rack she had began at. A quick search turned up the same style of jeans she initially had chosen; this time, she picked out a size that would be snugger on his hips, but still left a bit of room in the event he put on a few pounds. A belt would also be sufficient.

Returning with the new stack, she handed the pants over and took the first batch – also giving him several different styles of shirts that she thought would suit him. “There, “ she said brightly, back to her normal perky self. “These should be better.”

"Well, at least I'm not fat," he said, immediately feeling empty when she pulled away from him. "I mean, it just means I can eat whatever I want for a while. That's kind of a nice thought. Fried chicken, Burger King, tacos, Chinese takeout... I think I'm hungry again." He let the jeans fall off of him and stepped out of them. A hanger in one hand, he squeezed the clip with shaking hands, trying to hang the jeans the way they had originally been, and failing. "These freaking things," he said, holding the hanger back and looking at it with his head bent all the way to the left. "If you look at them like this, they don't look crooked." He grinned and hung the hanger from the rack fastened to the dressing room wall.

"Okay, here goes." He took the new jeans and shirts from Astrid, tugged on one pair of jeans, removed his Nirvana tee, and pulled on a crisp white tee shirt and brown cardigan. He had to admit, he looked pretty damn good. The brown complemented his eyes, hair, and skintone, and altogether, he looked his age. "How does my ass look?" He wiggled around in front of the mirror, then turned to Astrid with one eyebrow lifted.

“Wow.” Astrid’s eyes went wide when he finished dressing, her brows raised in shock – but she looked pleased. “Turn around!” Biting down on her bottom lip, she could barely contain her glee at the very sight of him: he looked mature, he looked clean, he looked his age and not like some scruffy homeless teenager off the street. This was turning out better than expected.

“Here, try this shirt on with those pants.” She handed him a dark green short sleeved button down shirt; behind that one to try on next was a plaid long sleeved shirt, with more dark greens and blues. With his tawny complexion and dark hair and eyes, the color combinations were winning ones. She watched him try on the outfits she brought him, hands clasped to her chest, beaming brightly as she watched him transform. He looked like a grown man. “I just can’t get over this,” she said, shaking her head when he was through. “You look like a completely different person – it’s unbelievable!”

He couldn't help but grin. Maybe, just maybe, he still had a chance here. As he tried each outfit on, he felt more and more confident that he could win her back.

"Let's go check these out," Dante said, pulling his own clothes back on and practically dragging Astrid out of the dressing rooms and to the register. He tossed the clothing onto the counter, the hangers clattering together as they touched the surface. When the cashier read him the total, he handed her a wad of bills.

"Where to next?" he asked, turning to Astrid as he took his change and bags.

This had been much easier than Astrid expected. She anticipated him pouting, sulking, or flat-out refusing to shop for himself, and they would be left to a really awkward afternoon of skulking about the mall uncomfortably. Of course, Astrid was doing a little window shopping herself, but this trip was all for him. it was nice to know that his appearance was on his mind: it had not been a deciding factor in their relationship of course, but Astrid was beginning to grow disenchanted with his appearance, just as she was beginning to fully embrace hers. She was feeling more and more like a woman as time went on, desperate to shed the awkward traces of her high-school self - now she radiated confidence, and she badly wanted him to do the same.

"Well," she said with a small, thoughtful sigh as she glanced around at their surroundings. She chewed on her bottom lip, eyes narrowing before she spotted both Foot Locker and ALDO at the same time, and then training her gaze to his beat up Converse. "The good news is, with all the new clothes you just got, a new pair of Cons would still look great with them. Or, if you want to look for something a little more fancier, we could try there." Gesturing to ALDO, though she was second-guessing her choice: she did not want to push him too far into a new realm. Baby steps needed to be taken.

Dante looked down at his very ripped, very old, and very comfortable shoes. He glanced at the shoes displayed in the window. Their leather, expensive version of Chucks looked pretty cool, sure -- especially the grey ones -- but the shoes he wore had been with him throughout the last couple of years, literally carrying him through.

He looked at Astrid's hopeful face, then back at his beaten shoes. "Yeah," he said, trying to sound enthusiastic but instead sounding like a little boy whose mother wanted him to go to church. He tried again. "Those grey ones are nice." He walked into the store, purposely avoiding looking at the shoes he was betraying. He found a box marked with his size and stuffed it between his torso and arm. That part, at least, had been quick. He hated to think of his Converses sitting in a landfill somewhere, but they were not part of the big picture. "This is probably a dumb question, but do you wanna look at anything here?"

Right as he asked, Astrid had spied a pair of heels that caught her eye. Shiny patented red, as crimson as her hair. Reluctantly turning to glance back at Dante, she bit down on her bottom lip, suddenly no longer able to contain her grin. "Yeeeaah, actually ..." She wanted this shopping trip to be all about Dante, but it was clear he wanted to take the pressure off of himself. "Gimme just a minute, okay?"

After flashing him a quick grin, she turned and hurried over to the other side of the store where the shoes sat. It was a good thing she hustled; there was another woman hungrily eying the shoes. A quick look revealed that there was only one box left - and they were precisely her size. Holding her breath, she slowly sat down with the box, removing the lid and pulling the shoes out. Kicking off the heels she was already wearing, she very carefully slipped the red ones on. They fit perfectly.

And now for the ultimate test. She stood up - the heels gave her an extra four inches, boosting up her diminutive frame - and walked back and forth in them. They did not rub the back of her heel annoyingly, they made her legs look incredible, and best of all: when she turned and looked at herself in a full length mirror propped up a few feet away, they made her derrière look absolutely fantastic. There was no doubt about it, she had to get them. The price on their tag was a little much, but upon further examination, she saw they were drastically marked down. "Okay," Astrid said once the shoes were boxed up and protectively held to her chest, consciously away of the other woman who had eyed her shoes glowering furiously at her. "I'm ready." She led him over to the check out counter, setting down her box and learning down to rifle through her purse.

Dante watched Astrid check herself out in the mirror, his lips parting slightly and the corners of his mouth turning up a little. Suddenly he realized that, if he could manage to grow up, too, they would be able to look back at the last few years and see that they had grown up together. Years and years of measurement stretched before him, and he wondered what it would be like to look back on their lives when they were, say, married and had a baby.

Suddenly, it didn't seem so bad.

He shook himself out of it as he followed her to the checkout. "I've got it," he said, putting his free hand over hers as she searched for her wallet. He added his own things to the counter and managed not to blink when the cashier announced the total. It wasn't too bad, especially if he reminded himself that the state was covering it.

"I need to find a job," he said as they left the store. "Maybe go back to school." He realized he probably sounded like a sheepish child who had just admitted he was wrong for knocking his sibling's blocks over. He rubbed at the back of his neck and sat down on the nearest bench. The nausea was coming back, just a little, and he swallowed hard. "I'm so sorry," he said. His eyes stubbornly remained dry, but his voice cracked a little. He realized he might be a little dehydrated; it would definitely explain why the nausea wouldn't subside.

Astrid hated to admit it to herself, but sometimes, Dante damn near broke her heart. A small part of her knew he'd cover the cost of her shoes: her kneejerk response was to be slightly perplexed. She didn't need to be bought off. Then she realized that it wasn't that Dante was trying to buy her affection; in a way, he was attempting the role of provider. So she did not protest when he paid. Let the poor man feel good about himself.

Her brows raised in concern as he sat down heavily on a nearby bench, and once again, she moved in close beside him. She closed her eyes when he apologized, and shook her head. "Don't be sorry, baby," she sighed, pursing her lips and pressing a kiss to his brow. His dusky skin was hot, sweaty, and she pulled back with a frown. "Wait here," she instructed. The nurturing aspect of her personality kicked in: he was sick in some way, and she wanted to make him better.

Rising from the bench, she took off briskly, finding a vending machine not far from where they sat. Fishing out a dollar bill and some change, she shoved it into the machine and selected the bottled water. Triumphantly, she returned to Dante's side, proffering the bottle. "Drink this." Once the bottle was in his hands and uncapped, she relaxed next to him once again.

Allowing him a few moments to recollect himself, Astrid sat quietly, thinking. Dante knew he had to get a new job. He even mentioned school. An image of them together, married and with a baby flashed in her mind: her staying at home, him off to work. The idea struck her as very 50s, and very unlike Dante. Was she doing this to him - trying to pidgeonhole him into a role he did not want?

Winding her arm through his, she clasped her hand with his own, lacing their fingers together. "One day at a time, Dante." Turning to peer at him, she raised an eyebrow. "Did you want to look at anything else? Or shall we get going?"

"Thanks," he said. His hands shook as he broke the seal and lifted the bottle to his lips. Water trickled from his mouth as he drained half of the bottle in one go. His head pounded and his stomach squeezed itself. Gritting his teeth, Dante shoved the nausea down. He could throw up later, when he could lay on the floor of his own bathroom, hot cheek against cool tile.

He nodded. "Hate to be a killjoy," he said. "Maybe we could..." He let the next words die, though they echoed through his mind: ...stop and get a drink. Just one shot, maybe two, and the nausea would go away.

He shouldn't have eaten. He shouldn't have drank the water so quickly. He rose from the bench and bolted outside, lighting a cigarette as the fresh air hit him. He gulped down the air, shoving the nausea down again, taking a drag. Part of him realized he looked insane, and that he had left Astrid in the mall, but he didn't care. He pressed his cheek against the cool brick exterior and took slow, deep breaths, interjecting with a hit of nicotine every three or so.

"Fuck me," he said. "I'm in way over my head."

Astrid let him go. It pained her to do so, but she knew she had to: waiting several long beats before she too, stood up. Straightening out the bottom of her shirt, she tipped her head up and breathed deeply. Dante was beginning to lose his grip. She had to do something ... but what? As she gathered up there bags, it hit her that really, there was very little she could do to help him. He had made an admirable choice, true, but ultimately it would be up to him.

She lingered just outside of a Borders to kill a few minutes, before making her way over to the exit. It hadn't been the one they came through, but close enough: they could walk back to the car easily enough. Before emerging out into the early evening, she considered what Dante said and din't say. She had an idea of what he wanted, his physical symptoms told everything. Poor Dante. She couldn't even begin to understand what he was going through.

He hadn't gone far: there were people standing outside smoking, some well-dressed. She found pressed against the wall and made her approach, holding her hand out. "Dante, let me drive home. You look like you need a ... rest." A rest - was that the best she could come up with? Even so, she was already formulating a plan: she'd stay with him tonight if she could, he could stay at her place if he wanted, her parents were still gone. Anything to help him. "Let's go back to your place - or mine, if you'd like."

He glanced at her, relieved she had missed the worst of it. A few yards down, the mall's landscaping company would find a very nasty gift. The cool brick still felt good on his face, though, so, after moving down, he had continued to rest his cheek on it while smoking a cigarette when she had joined him.

Smiling weakly while looking at her through his lashes, Dante nodded. He lifted his free hand slowly to his pocket, and pulled out his keys. His hand shook as he held them out to her. The other hand shook as well, and he clenched the filter of his cigarette between his teeth, the hand dropping to his side like a noodle. The thought of noodles made his stomach clench, but it was empty. He forced himself to keep from gagging.

He was sick. Astrid could smell his sickness: not just the vomit alone on the ground, but the illness pervaded from his body, surrounding him. It was almost like an aura - not that Astrid really bought into that sort of stuff, but in this particular instance, it was startlingly fitting. Wordlessly, she reached out and accepted the keys; she slipped her other hand into his after transferring the bags to the first hand. Gripping tightly, Astrid gently led him down the sidewalk alongside the parking lot: from here, she could see the section they had parked in. Now that it was getting a little later in the evening, the parking lot had thinned out nicely.

Once they arrived to the car, she opened the back door and put their bags on the floor before getting inside. Starting the car, she took a moment to orient herself: the last time she had driven Dante's care was eons ago, when she had to retrieve him from a party when he called her, too drunk to drive himself home. Banishing the memory, she fumbled with the radio, turning it to Q101, the local alternative station. As she navigated her way out of the parking lot and back to the highway, the song on the radio caught her attention.

"Love hurts, but sometimes its a good hurt; and it feels like I'm alive ..."

Turning the volume up ever so slightly, she focused on Dante. "I'd like you to stay over at my place tonight. My parents are still in Arizona; they won't be back for awhile." She hesitated a moment. "I think it'd be nice to ... you know, spend more time together." Falling silent, she considered her words and their intent. She did want to spend more time with him - a huge part of her missed his company, more so now that he was making a concentrated effort on staying sober. At her place, there was no alcohol - neither of her parents drank - and she could take care of him if she needed. That was all ... right?

"Love sings when it transcends the bad things; have a heart and try me, 'cause without love, I won't survive ..."

Astrid reached out, turning the radio down. The lyrics were unintentionally hitting way too close to home for her liking, as familiar as the song struck her.

He reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers. "Wow," he breathed as the song went into the second verse. "Yeah." He didn't want to say it out loud, but he saw the similarities between the song and their relationship, too. "That would be nice," he said, trying to play it off as though he were answering her.

"Sorry about all of this," he said. "I'm starting to feel better, though. Seriously." He glanced at her and laughed. "It was a lot worse a few days ago. I think I'm coming out of it. I just..." Want a drink, he finished to himself. "I think you're right. I think we need to spend some time together." He also thought that if he had her by his side, he might actually be okay. He didn't want to sound corny, and he didn't want to worry her, but he thought there might be plenty of time for honesty later, after...

'Cause without love I won't survive

He couldn't help but think that her invitation had a double meaning to it. It had been a while.

Love hurts

He suddenly realized that he didn't know whether they were okay, though. Yes, there would definitely have to be time for honesty.

'Cause without love I won't survive

"Maybe I'll even keep dinner down," he joked awkwardly. He sighed and looked out the window.

"You do seem a lot better," offered Astrid, a bit weakly. She wasn't entirely sure if she believed her words: he had just gotten sick, hadn't he? Did that mean he was still going through withdrawal? She thought hard as she turned her gaze back to the road, her hand giving his a little comforting squeeze. Suddenly, she decided it didn't matter: she knew that he wasn't drinking. She felt absolutely certain that she would have been able to tell if he hadn't been sober over the past few weeks - and she knew there were plenty of chances for him to drink behind her back since they hadn't really seen each other. But something in the pit of her stomach told her he was telling the truth. He had to be, he just had to be.

Have a heart and try me; 'cause without love, I won't survive ...

The line hung in her thoughts long after the song faded out, the DJ coming on and rambling on about some concert that was happening later that night. She needed to give him this chance, she needed to trust him. As she pulled off of the highway and into the suburbs, she looked at his face from the side, before glancing back. They were home.

Putting the car in park, she removed the keys, slipping them into her pocket for the time being out of sheer habit, reaching around the back seat and pulling out her bags. Turning to wordlessly lead him into the house, she realized truly that her parents really weren't going to be back any time soon. They had the entire house free to themselves. Something in her stomach dropped, realizing that her invitation for him to stay with her could be misconstrued - or was it? She felt the familiar lick of desire as she unlocked the front door, wondering how long it had been since they last had sex. Quite awhile.

"Want anything to drink?" Astrid set her bags down and kicked off her heels, heading to the kitchen for some water. She needed to be distracted. As she stood in front of the refrigerator, she decided that if they slept together, then it would be no big deal. Things were different now. If they didn't sleep together, then it would be no big deal. Simple as that, she thought as she filled her glass full of water from the water dispenser, refusing to dwell on the thought further. "We can hang out in the den. Big screen TV, and all that." Calling out to him in the front room, sipping her water.

Dante stood in the front room, taking in the familiar surroundings. Pictures of Astrid throughout her childhood and adolescence decorated the shelf to his left. A red and yellow mum plant sat on the table to his right. There were no sounds of curious parents, no sign that they were home. He and Astrid truly were alone. He stuck his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans and chewed on his lower lip. If things hadn't changed so suddenly, if he hadn't screwed things up, he would stride into that kitchen, take whatever she was doing out of her hands, kiss her, lift her onto the counter, and...

He sighed. He wasn't "boyfriend" anymore; now, as he stood in the front room of her house, he was someone she had decided to take responsibility for. Why had he agreed to spend the night? It would just be torture. He apparently wasn't even allowed in her room; she had said they could "hang out in the den." He almost squirmed with the simultaneous desire to kiss her and walk out, catch a bus home. He scrubbed at his face with his hands and swallowed the growl that rose in his throat. Argh, he thought.

"No thanks. Going into the den to see what's on," he called over his shoulder as he went into the big room. He turned on the TV and realized he didn't care what was on. "This is stupid."

Draining her glass of water, Astrid refilled it and carried it out to the den. Her initial plan was to start off in a neutral area - the den - and see what happened before she'd work their way back up to her bedroom. Now, standing in the doorway of the den and watching Dante mindlessly flip through the channels, it occured to her what a stupid idea it had been. She had been the one to end the relationship, and even though today had been just like a date, their relationship, as it presently stood, was over.

Feeling foolish, Astrid exhaled a shaky sigh, dropping to the couch beside Dante, setting her glass down. They had settled on a channel - AMC was re-airing the first episode of The Walking Dead, and it held her attention. Still, she stole glances at Dante whenever she could. If only she could make him hers again! Their love had been firey, passionate, unstoppable in the beginning; now she felt a sense of begrudging duty to him. The thought pained her as they sat in silence; she shouldn't have asked him to say. Her goal was to keep him in her sight, keep him visable, keep him sober - but now it just felt like a chore.

Checking the time, she saw it was still early in the evening. Closing her eyes briefly, she swallowed her tears, and sucked it up. It was going to be a long, depressing, and painful evening, and there was little more she could do aside from grinning and bearing it.