Don't Threaten Me With A Good Time: Chapter 23

The first few days following Sören's departure, after the first big crying meltdown, Dooku just felt numb. He also felt very, very tired.

He and Sören had originally had plans to go to dinner at Qui and Obi's on Sunday evening. This obviously wasn't going to happen now, and though Dooku was reluctant to speak to other humans and especially reluctant to potentially be put in a position of having to explain what happened, he also knew it would be rude to stand them up, moreso because Qui typically went all out for them.

So on Saturday evening, just 24 hours shy of their appointment, Dooku took out his cell phone. He had finished dinner - he hadn't been in the mood to cook, so he got Indian takeaway, and though he normally enjoyed that it was like he was eating just to feed himself, he felt no satisfaction. He was also in his pajamas much earlier than normal, as he was planning on going to bed soon, earlier than his usual bedtime. Dooku took a moment to stare at his phone and frown before calling Qui. He really didn't want to do this, but he knew he must.

He dialed Qui's number. One ring, two, then three. Four. Then voice mail. Dooku sighed and clicked his phone off, not wanting to leave a voice mail.

Dooku put the phone down on the coffee table and buried his face in his hands. He felt like crying again, but also the tears wouldn't come. After a moment, he leaned back on the couch, took his face out of his hands, and used the Force to lift up the remote control for the TV and change the channel. Dragos hopped up on the footstool and climbed onto the couch to settle on Dooku's lap. Dooku began stroking the cat, somewhat soothed by the sound of purring.

Then the phone rang, with the "Memory of Trees" Enya ringtone for Qui. Dooku picked it up on the first ring. "Hello."

"You called just now."

"I did."

"Sorry about that, I was taking a piss."

Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose. "Thank you for enlightening me with that information. Truly, I felt bereft without such knowledge."

"You know you missed me all those years. Piss and all."

"I did not miss the piss."

Qui chuckled. "How are you?"

"That's... what I called you about." Dooku took a deep breath. "Unfortunately, I have to cancel our plans for tomorrow night."

"Oh no! What's going on?"

"I... don't feel well." It wasn't really the truth, but it wasn't completely a lie.

There was a moment of silence - Dooku could tell that statement raised some questions, but finally Qui said, "I see." Dooku breathed out, relieved that Qui wasn't going to inquire further. "How does next Sunday work for the two of you, then?"

Dooku was not in the mood to explain to Qui there was no longer a "two of us". "I'll have to see how I'm feeling," Dooku said. "I'll get back to you and let you know."

"All right. Well, I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you. So do I." Dooku paused, and then said, "Take care, Qui."

"You too."

Dooku hung up, and pinched the bridge of his nose again. He felt even more tired now.

The next few days passed in a blur. Dooku had only been living with Sören from November to mid-February - though it felt like longer, and those few months were long enough to fall into a routine that, once abruptly taken out of that routine, was hard to re-adjust to what life had been like before.

Dooku went to bed earlier, and got up at the same time every day, but felt as if somehow he was getting less sleep; he wasn't sleeping well without Sören next to him. Not to mention that he'd gotten used to having regular sexual release, and now going without that again made him feel tense and achy, tension building in his body.

Dooku rather enjoyed cooking for himself and Sören, or the occasions when Sören would cook for them. Dooku had been cooking for himself before Sören moved in, and it had been something he'd liked doing even when living alone - both the meal itself and the act of preparing it in the kitchen. But now cooking felt like a chore that he'd rather not do, so he found himself living off of either frozen dinners or getting takeaway, and then hating himself afterwards for being "lazy".

Dooku couldn't bring himself to go in the meditation room - even though Sören had taken his art supplies and easel out of there, there was still too much of Sören's energy from having painted the walls and done so much art in the room. As it was, just sitting in the living room, he had to make a conscious effort to not look at Sören's paintings - he wasn't prepared for the finality of taking them down, just yet.

The week wore on, and Dooku still didn't call Qui to make plans for Sunday. Qui called him on Saturday, and Dooku didn't take the call. By the time Sunday was done and over with, Dooku felt like it was yet another thing he'd failed at - he considered calling Qui to apologize on Monday, but his self-loathing got in the way.

Another week passed. Dooku received calls from both Qui and Leja, and took none of them. He went to work, came home to eat frozen dinners or takeaway and mindlessly watch the BBC, study cases and law precedents if necessary, and slept alone. Gradually, life returned to the way it was before Sören had come into it... except it felt more hollow than before. Prior to being with Sören, Dooku had felt loneliness and emptiness. But after having a taste of what it was like to love, and be loved, returning to that lonely and empty space was painful, a constant gnawing ache.

Time continued to march forward, but Dooku felt like he was trapped in stasis, a place of suffocating numb grief. This was the new normal, and it was miserable. Sometimes Dooku thought about calling Qui to vent, or even calling Sören just to hear his voice - occasionally Dooku had the feeling that he'd made a big mistake and he should ask Sören to come back. But his conscience and sense of logic got in the way of those urges; not only was Dooku still convinced that Sören deserved better than being stuck with him as he got older and his health declined, but the guilt Dooku felt over the way he'd initiated the breakup just reinforced to him that he was no good for Sören, or anyone, and Sören was better off.

February became March, and a few days in to the month, Dooku remembered that Qui's birthday was on the 8th. Dooku still wasn't up for socializing with anyone, but he also felt it would be unfair to Qui if his birthday went unacknowledged. On Wednesday the 7th, the day before, Dooku worked late, and when he got home from an exhausting day in the British court system, he saw that Qui had called him. As tired as he was, and reluctant as he was to interact with anyone after the day he'd had - after the last few weeks he'd had - he knew it was time to finally return a phone call.

Qui answered after the third ring. "You know, I've been trying to get a hold of you for weeks."

"...I know. I'm sorry -"

"Please don't tell me you weren't feeling well, because we both know that's bullshit."

"Well, it is and it isn't, from a certain perspective."

"From what I'd heard, I suppose you're right."

Dooku sighed loud enough for Qui to hear. "What did you hear, exactly?"

"Leja tells me that you and Sören broke up."

Dooku realized that Leja would have found out that information either from Sören directly - since he had presented at her gallery before and likely would continue to do so if that one angry patron didn't hold much sway - or Sören would have vented to his siblings and Leja would have then heard it from Margrét, or from her son Matt via Dagnýr. Dooku supposed it was rather naive of him to assume Leja wouldn't know, and then wouldn't tell Qui.

When Dooku didn't answer that, it was as good as if he did answer. "What happened?" Qui pressed.

"I... don't want to talk about it."

"Keeping it inside isn't going to do you any good -"

"I fucking bloody can't talk about it," Dooku choked out. Then he began to cry, to the surprise of them both.

Qui waited a minute, and then he said softly, "It's a pity. He made you happy. It's the first time I ever saw you truly happy."

That just made Dooku sob harder.

"Look," Qui went on, "do you need anything? You say you can't talk about it, but from what I can tell you've just... not been talking, in general. I don't want this to be a repeat of what happened after Sayyid-Diya was killed, where you just shut down and shut everyone away."

"I know your birthday is tomorrow," Dooku said, "and I feel bad because I'd like to be there for you, but I'm afraid I'm not in a very celebratory mood and I'd just ruin it for you."

"I haven't seen you in almost a month, I doubt that seeing you, even sad, would ruin it for me," Qui said, "but I'll respect your wishes regardless."

"I'm sorry." Dooku frowned. He tried to pull himself together and not have another sobbing episode, but he could feel another wave of tears coming on.

"I know. But remember that cycles repeat themselves. Please don't be a stranger for too long."

Dooku gave a small, rueful laugh. "You say don't be a stranger, but I don't even know who I am anymore."

"Well, you have people in your life who care about you and will help you find your way, if you ask. Just... ask."

"Thank you, Qui." Dooku sighed. "I'll see about calling you in a few weeks when I've had more time to..." He couldn't finish the sentence. The tears broke once more.

"All right. Take care of yourself in the meantime and if you need a shoulder, call me. I don't care if it's two in the morning. Don't go through this alone."

"Good night." Dooku hung up, immediately wanting to kick himself for simply saying "good night", but he had too many painful emotions searing him - this grief was indeed very similar to what he went through when he found out Sayyid-Diya had been killed on the London Underground on 7/7, even though he and Sayyid-Diya had just been friends, not lovers. That had been twelve years of isolation, self-imposed exile from normal contact with other people because he felt like he was poison and broke everything he touched. Losing Sören - pushing him away - just reinforced that feeling, if anything, made it stronger. He felt like a monster for breaking the younger man's heart. He wondered what Sören was doing now. If Sören was starting to move on with his life. Dooku certainly was struggling moving on with his.

Thinking about Sören made Dooku instinctively reach for his phone. Sören's cell was still on his phone - he hadn't wiped the number yet. He flipped it open, went to Contacts, and paused at Sören's number. Before he could lose control and hit the button to dial, he flipped the phone closed, threw it down on the coffee table, and sank from the couch onto the floor, hugging his knees, sobbing.

Dragos hobbled over to him slowly, gave him a headbutt, and flomped over for belly rubs. Dooku reached out to rub the cat's belly - even though he'd been feeding the cat regularly, the same thing Dragos always ate, the cat felt a little thinner. Thinking about it, Dooku realized Dragos had been eating a little less.

"You miss him too, don't you," Dooku said.

Dragos looked up at him and blinked as if to say "yes", then headbutted Dooku's hand and arched so Dooku could resume petting him.

Dooku continued petting the cat, and sighed.

At last it was time for bed, and Dragos got on the bed with Dooku, curled up on the pillow next to him - the place where Sören usually slept. Dooku pet the cat and cried himself to sleep.

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