Little Talks ☇ C. Evans

150 ) he loved her

Chris tapped his finger on the bottle of Vodka that he'd been staring at for the past ten minutes. It would be easier—to feel numb instead or hurting the way he was. It would definitely help him forget for a little while, at least, but he could not bring himself to press his lips to the cold, glass rim of the bottle. He could not bring himself to drink away his problems, because he knew the drinking was a problem within itself.

The buzzing of his phone caused him to set the glass bottle on the table momentarily, and he stretched across the couch cushions to grab the phone.

"Yeah?" He mumbled into the phone, waiting for Sebastian to change his 'ETA' for the third time that night.

Sebastian had called that Sunday morning, telling Chris he was going to some kind of show in London, but Chris knew better of his best friend. Sebastian wasn't flying all the way to Europe for a show; he was flying all the way to Europe because he probably envisioned Chris losing control of himself and getting drunk due to his emotional state.

Chris glanced over at the bottle of Vodka again; Sebastian was probably half right.

"I'm gonna be later than expected. Estimated time of arrival: two in the morning," Sebastian replied, causing Chris to roll his eyes.

"Sebastian, you don't need to come. I'm fine," he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

"And I'm not an idiot," Sebastian sighed into the phone. "What is it? Liquor? Vodka? Please tell me it's something classier than beer."

"Actually, I haven't downed anything," Chris turned to look at the time on the clock that hung on the wall behind him, tapping his foot on the floor aggressively.

It was one of his nervous habits he had as a side effect from not taking his medication. Some part of him had to constantly be moving; he was restless.

Sebastian chuckled, "Great. I'm proud. Now, give me your address."

Chris shook his head, "No, Seb. I don't need a babysitter."

"Good, because I don't like sitting on kids. Now stop being a douche and tell me where you are. I've got a cab waiting."

Chris shrugged and slumped back against the couch, "Your plane already landed?"

"No shit, Sherlock," Sebastian sounded irritated, but Chris couldn't care less.

"I'll text it to you. I'm hanging up."

And with that, Chris ended the call and threw his phone back down on the couch cushion beside him. He gave the bottle of Vodka one last look with his sad, blue eyes before standing up and walking over to the window that overlooked the city.

It truly was a beautiful sight with all of the twinkling lights. . .but he'd much rather be looking down at his view of Central Park from his New York apartment with Poppy in his arms. He'd give anything to be doing that right now—to nuzzle his nose into her soft, blonde locks that smelled like strawberries. He just wished her petite body was pressed against his, the city sounds filling his ears. But he'd ruined any chance of that ever happening, and thinking about her now only tore him apart more on the inside.

He walked back into the room just in time for his phone to buzz again. He knew it was going to be Sebastian, and he knew he was going to be angry because he still had not texted him the address. For some reason, he picked it up anyways.

"Look, I just want to be alone, Seb," Chris explained, not wanting to hurt his friend's feelings, but not really sugar-coating what he had to say.

"Are you sure that's what you want?" Sebastian asked, not sounding angry so much as sounding concerned.

Chris tightened his jaw, sitting back down on the couch again, "You wanna know what I want? I want to go back in time, back to when I was offered this movie role, and I want to turn it down. I want to take back what I said to Poppy, I want to be able to handle every day life without taking my damn anxiety medicines, I want to stop feeling like this, and I just want Poppy."

Sebastian sucked in a breath before replying, "I know you miss—"

"I miss everything about her, Sebastian. I feel like I can't even function without her. I miss her smile, I miss her laugh, I miss her stupid jokes, I miss her silly snapchats, I miss her random texts, I miss waking up with her arms wrapped around me, I miss her smell. . .and you know what I miss most of all?" He breathed into the phone, tears already welling up in his eyes, making himself feel even weaker than he already knew himself to be.

"What?" Sebastian asked, genuinely worried about Chris and how he was handling this.

Chris reached across to the coffee table in front of him to take the bottle of Vodka in his free hand and took a deep breath.

"One of us would always wake up at some crazy hour in the night and then wake the other up. We'd just lay there and talk about everything. . ." Chris pushed the lid off of the Vodka bottle with his thumb.

"I miss our little talks."

A single tear threatened to fall and he immediately hung up the phone, not even allowing Sebastian to attempt to make him feel better.

Instead, he decided to try and fill the empty void in his heart with Vodka. He decided that the more he drank, the easier it would be to drown out the sound of her sweet voice that he missed so much. He decided that he didn't really care about himself; he cared about Poppy.

He loved her. . .even if she wasn't his to love anymore.

the end.