This group was slightly larger than the one Acheron usually attended. With both him and Aviv joining, the room felt almost crowded. Yet no one treated them like outsiders.
There were no curious glances that lingered on them or asked why they were there. They were simply two more people sitting in a circle. Acheron found himself strangely grateful for that.
Around four members shared updates about their lives. One spoke about reaching another sobriety milestone. Another talked about returning to work after several difficult months. Someone else complained about a family member who apparently believed being sober meant they were now qualified to give unsolicited advice about everything.
That earned a few quiet laughs.
As the conversation continued, Acheron began piecing together small details. Most of the members had been sober for several years, and many of them had been attending this particular group for years too. That caused them to know each other's stories. To remember anniversaries and notice when someone was missing.
It felt less like a collection of strangers and more like a small community that had slowly grown around a shared understanding.
Acheron relaxed without even noticing. His tense shoulder slowly lowered, and the tightness in his chest eased. He didn't feel the need to contribute; he could simply sit and listen.
Half an hour passed before Acheron realised it.
By then, Trudy had managed to stop crying. She had even contributed a few comments to the various updates, occasionally smiling when someone made a joke. She still held a crumpled, damp tissue in one hand.
Finally, she drew in a few long, shaky breaths.
"I would..." Her voice was steadier now.
"I would like to thank everyone for being so understanding." Trudy looked around the room, meeting each person's eyes. When she reached Acheron and Aviv, she smiled for the first time that evening.
It was small, but genuine.
"I received some... really hard news just before the meeting." Her voice cracked on the last word. She stopped and reached for her glass of water, taking a few careful sips before setting it down again.
"My son has decided that I am not allowed to have unsupervised visitation with my grandchildren." Tears returned almost immediately.
Trudy grabbed another handful of tissues and hurriedly pressed them against her cheeks, trying to wipe away the evidence before it could fall. No one interrupted her. The room remained quiet, giving her the time she needed to gather herself.
"I went out to a restaurant with a few old friends from years ago," Trudy continued after a few moments. "They decided to order a few drinks. I didn't. I ordered sparkling water instead."
"It bubbled." She gave a small, humourless laugh.
A few people smiled faintly, but Trudy didn't.
"My son happened to be eating there too. When he saw me sitting at a table surrounded by alcohol, he jumped to the conclusion that I had been drinking."
She swallowed down the bile that threatened to push up.
"I explained that I was only drinking water, but he told me that..." Her voice faltered again. "He told me that he couldn't afford to believe me." Trudy's face crumpled. She covered her mouth with one hand, but the sob that escaped was impossible to hide.
Acheron felt something twist painfully in his chest.
He understood that feeling. Not the exact circumstances, but the helplessness of knowing that someone else had already decided what you were before you had a chance to explain yourself.
Trudy cried for several minutes. Eventually, she took a shaky breath and lowered her hand.
"When you are an addict, every choice you make can feel like it is being watched," she said quietly. "Every action is scrutinised. Every mistake becomes proof of what people already think about you."
She twisted the tissues between her fingers until they were little damp balls of paper.
"It's hard living with a label that says you're untrustworthy, no matter how much work you put into changing. You can spend years trying to rebuild yourself, and sometimes..." She stared down at her hands. "Sometimes it feels like all that effort can be discarded in a single moment."
She sighed heavily. "Sorry. My mind isn't exactly in a good place right now."
Trudy attempted a laugh, but it came out broken. A few members tried to offer gentle words of comfort. They reminded her that she had come a long way. That she had been sober for years. That she was doing everything she could.
Trudy nodded each time, but Acheron could see that none of the words was quite reaching her. He wondered if he should say something. Before he could find the right words, the woman sitting beside Trudy spoke.
The same woman who had been the one helping guide the meeting earlier, quietly stepping in whenever Trudy became overwhelmed.
"Just because your son wants to continue supervising your visits doesn't mean he loves you any less."
Trudy looked at her.
"He may simply not know how to trust you yet," the woman continued. "And I know that hurts. It hurts terribly."
Trudy's fingers tightened around the tissues.
"But his fear doesn't necessarily mean he thinks you've made no progress. It may mean that he's still scared of losing you."
The woman rubbed Trudy's back.
"He still wants you in his life," the man said gently. "He still wants his children to know you. He's just not ready to let go of the safety net yet."
"That doesn't mean it would stay like this forever."
Trudy's shoulders slowly lowered.
She was still crying, but something in her expression had changed. The hurt was still there, but it no longer seemed to be swallowing everything else.
"I suppose..." She wiped beneath her eyes. "I suppose I hadn't thought of it that way."
"You don't have to like it," the woman said. "You don't even have to agree with him. But maybe you can give him time."
Acheron looked down at his hands.
Time.
It seemed to be the answer to so many things.
Time to heal.
Time to trust.
Time for other people to see that you were changing.
And sometimes, perhaps, time for someone else to believe that you weren't the person you used to be.
The meeting ended not long after. Trudy decided to leave almost immediately, apologising once more for the unusual meeting before gathering her things. She looked tired, but the worst of the storm seemed to have passed.
Before leaving, she made her way over to Acheron.
"I heard you had a rough day," she said, her smile soft. "I'm proud of you for coming to a meeting."
Acheron barely had time to respond before she wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened for half a second, surprised by the sudden hug, then relaxed into it.
"Thank you," he murmured.
Trudy pulled back and gave him a small laugh.
"Sorry. This meeting has been a bit of a disaster." The laugh sounded much more pleasant than it had earlier.
Acheron smiled. "I think it was still a good meeting."
"Me too." Trudy's expression softened. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before saying goodbye and leaving. Aviv waited until Trudy had gone before collecting their things.
"Come on, Achie. I'll take you home."
The drive to Acheron's apartment was quiet. They stopped at a fast-food restaurant along the way, and Aviv returned to the car carrying several burgers and a ridiculously fancy cup of coffee for Acheron.
"Emergency supplies," he announced as he handed it over.
Acheron looked at the cup.
"You bought me expensive coffee?"
"Absolutely."
Acheron smiled faintly and took a sip. The coffee was warm, sweet and exactly what he needed. The rest of the drive felt strangely long. Or perhaps it only felt that way to Aviv.
Acheron sat eerily quiet in the passenger seat, occasionally taking another sip from his drink while staring out the window. He didn't seem upset anymore, but he wasn't exactly relaxed either.
Aviv glanced at him a few times; he considered asking whether Acheron wanted to talk. But decided against it. A lot had happened that day.
Maybe Acheron simply needed some time to let everything settle; there was no need to fill every silence. By the time they reached Acheron's apartment complex, Aviv's phone rang.
Acheron stole a glance at the screen.
"Barrett, hey," Aviv answered.
Acheron continued sipping his coffee while Aviv listened.
"Yes, we're okay."
"Yes, I know."
"I'm bringing him home now."
Acheron smiled faintly. Of course Barrett had checked in. As Aviv ended the call, Acheron's own phone began to ring. He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.
Ivo.
"Hey," Acheron answered.
Aviv looked over. "Is that Ivo?" He mouthed.
Acheron nodded.
"Yes, I'm here."
"I'm fine."
"No, I went to a DAA meeting after class."
Aviv raised an eyebrow; Acheron gave him a helpless little smile.
"Yes, I promise I'm okay.
"I'm already home; see you soon." Acheron ended the call.
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Acheron looked down at his phone, finding an unread message from his brother. Probably sent it while they were in the meeting.
Aviv looked at his phone, finding a message as well. Their messages were almost identical, both from their older brothers.
Are you okay? Where are you?
Acheron stared at the screen, then compared it to Aviv's. A tiny giggle escaped him.
"No way." Acheron covered his mouth, but another laugh slipped through.
"They're identical." Aviv started laughing too.
Acheron's shoulders shook as he laughed, the first genuinely carefree sound he'd made all evening.
"They're just worried."
"I know."
"So are we." Aviv smiled.
Acheron looked at him.
"That's what family does."
Something warm settled in Acheron's chest.
The after had begun with fear, with the appearance of those students. The mention of Hadeon and that intense craving. Things got worse at the meeting with Trudy's tears and the reminder that even years of recovery didn't guarantee that everyone would trust you.
But sitting there, listening to Aviv laugh over two nearly identical messages, Acheron suddenly realised something.
Yes, he was an addict.
There would be days when the craving crawled beneath his skin, restless and unbearable, making every part of him want to run toward the thing he was trying to leave behind. There would be days when people watched him a little more carefully.
There would be days when someone might question his choices. Days when he would have to prove, again and again, that he was trying. But he wasn't facing those days alone.
He had his family.
People who worried when he was late.
People who called to make sure he was safe.
People who would notice when something was wrong, even when he didn't say anything.
And he had...
Eamon.
Acheron looked down at his coffee, his smile becoming softer.
Eamon wouldn't simply watch from the sidelines.
If someone misunderstood him, Eamon would listen.
If someone accused him unfairly, Eamon would ask questions.
If someone tried to twist his story into something it wasn't...
Eamon would fight for him to be heard.
Acheron wasn't sure why that thought made his chest feel so warm. Perhaps because, after everything that had happened today, he was beginning to understand that being protected didn't mean being weak. Sometimes it simply meant having people who loved you enough to stand beside you when you couldn't stand alone.
"Thank you, Viv."
Aviv looked at him.
"For what?"
"For today." Acheron smiled.
"Anytime, Achie." Aviv's expression softened.
Acheron opened the car door and stepped out, turning his back before closing it.
"Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
Aviv waited until Acheron was safely inside before pulling away, and Acheron stood by the entrance and watched the black car disappear around the corner. Then he looked down at the half-finished cup of coffee in his hands.
A smile formed without him having to force anything.