The Way Back | ✓

1.6

His face was flushed, his cheeks rosy and his eyes were wide. The smile was nowhere to be seen.

"It's called being empathetic, darling," London said, her voice gentle. "I understand that what you're going through is difficult though I personally haven't endured something like it."

"Right," he muttered, casting his eyes away and down to the bottle. "Empathy. A lot of people lack that."

Was it pity that made her stand up and offer him her hand or was in genuine care? He was still but a stranger to her and yet, with those tiny charming smiles, she found she did mind that he was drowning himself in what was clearly self-loathe.

"Come on," she said softly.

"Where to?"

"Come on," she repeated and reluctantly, he got up and grabbed his blazer. She needed to get him home.

"Where are we going?" he asked again, bumping into her every other second as she helped him exit the restaurant.

She knew he was drunk which was why she tried her best to bite back her tongue but him bumping into her wasn't really helping her hold her phone properly and her patience was already thinning. "Can you hold still for one second?" she snapped. "God, you're so pissed."

Andrew smiled at her. "Are you always grumpy?" he asked before he leaned his big frame into hers and poked her cheek with his finger. His weight on her caused her to stumble and she almost lost grip on her phone.

"Where do you live?" she asked, trying her best not to snap the words at him this time.

"I thought you weren't interested," he said in lieu of an answer, holding up his right hand. The gold ring was hard to miss and so was his rather charming smile.

"You need to get home."

The smile was quick to vanish and the frown that set into his thin lips made London feel stupid for asking the question. He was in the process of a divorce and perhaps he didn't want to go home because his wife would be there. Or maybe he was ashamed of having to live in hotels till the divorce was finalised.

"Home," Andrew mused, the smile returning back to his lips but this smile made her feel unpleasant for the way his expression was set told her that he was either feeling extremely bitter or angry. "Where is home? With my wife and kid, and the man she was fucking behind my back? Or in my parents' basement, the only two people who feel obligated to offer me a place to stay and thinking that this gave them to the right to say shit about my whole situation?"

He cackled and London truthfully wanted to minus herself from this equation. She had a lot on her plate and adding a drunk man who had complex life problems was in no way going to help her.

"That's a good question, London," he said, his grin wide and yet so sad. "Where is home?"

"What's your parent's address?" she asked quickly, moving away from him so that she was no longer his support.

He staggered, catching his footing a second later. "And here I thought you cared," he commented, shaking his head.

"I care about you getting home safe."

"Safe." he echoed before placing his right hand above his heart. The streetlight bounced off his wedding band ring. "My heart's not safe, London, with my wife or my parents. The only person who loves me is my daughter but I think I'm fucking that up too."

"Yeah? Well, do something about it," London snapped. All her patience had run out. "Do you want me to book you an Uber back to your parents' place or not?"

"My car's over there," he said, pointing in the direction that had many cars parked by the curb.

When she raised her eyebrows impatiently he sighed.

"I don't want to go there," he protested softly, his forced smile dimming.

"All right," she sighed, turning back to her phone. She booked herself an Uber and waited a few minutes for her ride to arrive. Those few minutes felt like the longest minutes of her life. She contemplated taking him home because she couldn't leave him out here, drunk and alone, but he was a stranger, someone she barely knew, and trusting him into her home could only do her more harm than good.

Her Uber arrived and she turned towards him, her thoughts still fighting against each other. "Goodnight, Andrew," she finally said, "Take care."

He nodded, tucking his hands into his pocket and slightly swaying in sync with the windy night. "You too, London," he smiled, his eyes catching hers for a moment, a moment where all else fell away to give room for something even words could not encompass.

It was hard to fight off a smile. London's lips found themselves lifting up on their own accord. Offering him an awkward little wave, she climbed into the car, but not before she caught a glimpse of his side profile.

An entirely different smile played on the tips of his lips.