Nothing's Wrong

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"Brad, stop. You're drunk."
"Oh for fuck's sake, Bradley," Adam groans, pulling Brad off me for the hundredth time.
"Someone take him back to the hotel already," Barry says, rolling his eyes in annoyance.
"I'll take him," Adam responds as Brad attempts to get out of Adam's grasp. "Stop struggling, you dimwit."
"I'll go with you," I offer, earning a snigger from Neil. "What?" I demand, looking at him.
"You just want to go so you can fuck."
"Oh shut up," I laugh, taking Brad's other arm and slinging it over my shoulder.
"See you tomorrow," Adam yells as we walk out of the bar. Brad makes some incoherent mumbling noises, and we struggle to half-carry him down the street back towards the hotel.
"Why is he so hammered?" I ask, nearly stumbling over my own feet.
"I don't even know. He just does this sometimes," Adam sighs, shaking his head.
"Angie," Brad slurs, bringing his face closer to mine. I push his head back and roll my eyes, making Adam chuckle. "Angie," he repeats.
"What?" I groan, making him look forward again.
"I love you."
"No you don't. You're drunk. Now shut up," I respond with a sigh.
"Maybe he does love you," Adam says softly, glancing at me and meeting my eyes.
"He can't."
"Why not?"
I fall silent and chew my lip in thought. What if he does love me? I love Adam. What am I supposed to do?
"But I love you," I say after a moment, glancing at Adam before looking at Brad, who seems oblivious to the conversation.
"And I love you. But so does he. Maybe," Adam replies. We near the hotel, and Brad starts mumbling again.
"I love you," he repeats, looking at me this time. His blue eyes, which were glazed over and glassy a while ago, seem to be a bit clearer.
"No, you don't," I respond as we walk through the doors of the hotel. After we manage to get all three of us into the elevator, we struggle to carry him to his room.
"Yes, I do," he says, literally five minutes after I'd replied. I sigh, and we open the door to his room, narrowly avoiding closing the door on his foot. Adam practically throws him on the bed, and Brad grunts uncomfortably but otherwise remains silent. Adam goes into the bathroom, most likely to get a trash can, and I pull off Brad's shoes, tossing them aside.
"I'm not going to change your clothes, for the record. You can do that yourself," I tell him, although he's probably only half conscious at this point. I grab a pillow, moving it gently under his head. He suddenly grabs my arm, and I flinch in surprise.
"I can't do this anymore, Angie. I love you. And I feel like shit for doing this to my best friend, but I love you," he says quickly, his words slurred yet still clear enough to understand. I look into his blue eyes and see the pain in them. I bite my lip as I feel tears prick my eyes.
"Eve?" Adam says, making me look at him. He's standing by the foot of the bed, a trash can in his hand. "What's wrong?"
Brad releases my arm, letting his hand fall onto the bed with a thump.
Clearing my throat, I stand up straight. "Nothing's wrong."

Is this bazooka worthy or what

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