Dried and Dying Roses (BWWM)

Forty Three:When Helping Doesn't...Well Help

Forty Three: When Helping Doesn't.....Well Help.

"That's when my baby found me. I was three days on a drunken sin..." – 'Work Song' , Hozier

A low groan fell from Isaline's mouth as she rolled over in bed the next morning. Adrian wasn't in the bed, but upon her looking up as she saw a large shadow cast over her body, and that he was standing by the large window on his side of the bed a little ways away. In his large dominant hand, there was a glass  which was holding a suspiciously brown liquid that Isaline was almost a hundred percent sure wasn't apple juice, the smell was what gave it away.

He was standing only in a pair of red and blue checkered boxers, the sun kissing that medium toned skin of his perfectly, enough to make Isaline's mouth water, but she ignored the need that started to settle in her lower belly, one real question on his mind.

"What are you drinking, baby?"  Isaline croaked as she sat up with a quiet grunt, rubbing roughly at her eyes.

Adrian didn't even look at her, staring blankly out the window as he let out a light sniffle, "Teen spirit," He muttered darkly, "A glass of teen spirit,"

A frown found itself on Isaline's face as she climbed slowly out of the bed, a hand resting on her growing belly as she walked over to Adrian, resting her hand on Adrian's wrist, noting how the skin was warmer than usual, "Adrian, it's six in the morning, why are you drinking?"

She couldn't and wouldn't hide the worry that dominated her voice, not liking this at all.

When Adrian looked down at her, Isa was shocked to see eyes that were bloodshot, and his breath smelled entirely like aged alcohol, though he seemed completely in control of himself.

"Because this is what I do every year on February fifth," He told her, "Thirtieth year I've done it," And with that, he tipped his head back, and threw back the glass, gulping its contents in one swig.

Isaline was torn. She wanted to stop him, not wanting to see him like this. She'd never seen Adrian drink more than a bottle of beer or a shot at most, but she didn't want him drunk, drowning his sorrow with alcohol.

"Put it down," She told him gently, trying to pry the glass from his hand, which didn't work at all.

Those long fingers of his tightened around the large, patterned shot glass, not letting Isaline pull it from his grasp as those bloodshot stone eyes of his landed on hers, "No, leave it alone, Isaline."

"But-"

"I'm....I'm c- coping," He snapped, reaching around her towards the nightstand, and coming back with the large glass bottle the liquor came in. 

He was starting to slur, and that scared Isa for some reason as she watched him bring the bottle to his lips, taking large gulps without even wincing before slamming it roughly on the window sill, "You ....know, I'm kind of happy you know, be-c-cause now I can hang all the pictures up again. Tons of them,"

"Adrian, stop this," Isa pleaded quietly, "I don't want to see you like this, you're going to scare me. Please,"

Adrian seemed to take what Isa was saying into consideration, then let out a sour laugh that hurt Isa's feelings before what he said even did, "And that's supposed to make me stop? What the fuck do you want me to do then, because if I don't drink, I'm taking this shit, this pain and grief and guilt, I'm taking it all out on you, and we both know how you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Isa asked him as she sat back down on the edge of Adrian's side of the bed.

He shrugged, hitting the window with his fist, creating a muted thumping noise, "Whatever you want it to mean."