𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

i'd say you let me down, but we've been here before, it's come back around [d.n]

"h'llo?" he mumbles, and there's shifting on the other end.

"dave? are you drunk?" the unknown person asks, their melodious voice sounding foreign and yet familiar to dave's ears, and a soft noise forms in the back of dave's throat, though he's unwilling to let it out.

"now what gives you that idea?"

it draws a laugh from the man on the other end, the sound tugging on dave's heartstrings, and he sighs, hiccups, and slumps against the brick wall of a closed store. "i miss nick." he mumbles into the open air, half forgetting he's on the phone with someone. the person makes a noise, breathing heavily, and dave blinks, disoriented. "he doesn't- ever talk to me anymore, y'know? a-and he's always flirting with karl now and i can understand why, because-" dave swallows. there's a pained noise on the other end of the phone. "karl's.. pretty. karl's so handsome and i'm ugly and not good enough for nick and i think he likes karl more- more than he likes me, and it hurts."

"oh, dave.. i'm so sorry, i didn't know you felt that way." he says, and dave laughs, rubbing his eyes with a soft sigh.

"it doesn't- matter. he's going to break up with me, i know it. i'm waiting for it." another pained noise, muffled by the static of dave's mind. he presses his forehead against the cool bricks of the store and sobs softly into the atricolour night.

"listen- i have to go. call me when you're sober, yeah? then we can talk."

instead of answering, he hangs up and pockets his phone. he knows he made a mistake, spilling to someone he doesn't think he knows, and he knows he won't call back, he knows there's no reason to, he knows this. he knows that if he does, the person will judge him, will make fun of him, and the pity. dave hates the pity.

he stumbles home, drunk and broken, passes out on his couch without a worry in the world.

and when he wakes up in the morning, vague recollections of his (mostly) one-sided conversation swirling in his head, and checks his phone, he's surprised to see that the person he called was nick, and that nick has been blowing up his phone for hours now.

he sets his device down and cries.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

a knock on the door snaps dave out of his buzzing thoughts, his head spinning and vision blurry as he stands abruptly to answer it. his body aches, but he drags himself to the door nonetheless, fumbling with the knob for a brief moment before he's able to open it.

"nick-" he coughs, straightens himself, and brushes his shirt, swaying a bit from disorientation, though the man in front of him doesn't notice, too busy smiling down at his phone to see dave's fragile state, fingers flying across the screen as he excitedly types a message to whoever he's messaging.

a moment of silence passes over. nick finally looks up from his phone and smiles at dave, though it's barely as bright as the smile he had whilst talking to whomever was on the phone. "come in," dave slurs, closing the door behind nick, brushing stray hairs from his face with a soft sigh.

he should've kept his fucking mouth shut.

"how've you been, dave?" nick asks, and dave resists the urge to laugh. isn't it obvious? i'm suffering! you shouldn't have to ask to see that simple fact! he wants to scream, but the most he can do is muster a shrug and collapse on the couch next to his boyfriend.

are they even dating anymore? nick obviously cares about him, but he's only here to pity dave - as shown by how he stares at his phone, anxiously waiting for another response from the person on the other end - and dave himself is unsure of how nick feels about him. he knows he feels bad sometimes, feels upset and angry when nick brushes him off for someone else, but he loves dave, right? dave loves him too, loves him more than he's ever loved anyone else, but loving nick is hard, he thinks.

loving nick is like starting a wildfire. at first, he was unsure, but it is all-consuming. it spreads faster than he'd ever intended it to, and now it burns him from the inside, ever-growing and relentless in its journey to overpower him. it's painful.

"i'm ok," he says, after a moment, and nick hums, finally looking up from his phone, eyebrows furrowed at dave.

"you don't look ok."

and it's your fault i don't, he wants to say. he bites his tongue and shrugs.

"i guess i'm just tired. have a hangover 'nd shit, i dunno."

nick hums in response, smiling giddily at his phone and completely putting dave out of his mind. and it hurts. it hurts so badly, the fire is raging and dave's skin is melting off, and he cannot do a thing about it. he exhales shakily and hesitantly slumps into nick's side, fiddling with one of his hoodie strings as nick continues to type.

dave doesn't mean to look, he honestly doesn't, but he catches a glimpse at the name of the person nick is texting.

it's karl.

and dave has turned to ashes.

he wants to cry, wants to scream, but the most he can do is muster a pathetic sob and press his palms into his eyes. "nick," he says, voice grating his own ears, and when the texan doesn't respond, he repeats himself.

"yes, dave?" nick answers, and dave can tell he's tired of him.

"get the fuck outta my house. please." he pleads, and doesn't have to tell him twice. the look in nick's eyes pains him, burns him, but he forces himself to stay strong, even as his boyfriend leaves without a care in the world.

when the door is shut and dave is alone, truly alone, that's when he allows himself to feel.

that's why dave finds love at the bottom of a bottle. as long as he's drinking, nobody can hurt him.