25%

895 29 18

"Colby!" He exclaimed when he saw the door open to reveal his friend somewhat disheveled on the step. In response he just pulled his key out of the lock and shut the door behind him - rather aggressively. Sam got off of his stool by the bar to walk closer to the foyer where the other stood. On a closer look, Colby looked awful, to say the least. He was shaking in the hands and his hair was matted against his forehead. He looked like he had ran away from his worst nightmare, his chest heaving heavily and his eyes glancing around rapidly. Concerned, Sam asked, "Hey, are you okay?"

Colby flinched at the question and looked at Sam for the first time since he got back to the house. He stared at Sam with disbelief in his eyes. He wondered how Sam could ask him something like that after blatantly ignoring him all day. Even though he received Sam's message about being asleep he had passed it off as a basic - and fairly overused - excuse. Sam almost never napped during the day, he arguably had the most normal sleep schedule out of the six of them in the house. Of course it didn't help his reasoning skills that on the way home from fixing his phone screen, which took way to long altogether, he had stopped at a corner store and bought a four pack of Budweiser. He knew that it was stupid to drink while still hungover and then get in his car and drive but he didn't really care enough to stop himself. So when he got back home to find Sam expressing concern he couldn't help but be annoyed. 

"I'm fine, not that it's anything to you," he scoffed bitterly much to the surprise of Sam. Sam, who knew that he was in the wrong for denying that he kissed Colby. Sam, who regretted not being able to look the other in the eyes even though he realized what he had done. Sam, who hated himself for hurting his friend. Sam, who had no clue how his friend could be so bitter towards him for expressing worry and care. Colby didn't really care that the blonde's eyes were so confused they revealed his distress was not feigned. At this point he was too upset with the idea of it that he didn't want to acknowledge that he might be wrong. 

"What?" Sam questioned in utter bewilderment. Colby's eyes showed almost pure anger, with only a tiny undertone of betrayal and sadness, and looked darker than they should be. It took him aback to see his friend so angry and hurt. Sam couldn't help but shrink back as he resumed his confused response, "I asked so I obviously want to know. Am I not allowed to wonder how my best friend is after he disappears for hours?" 

He hadn't meant to make it worse but the face across from him just dropped. Colby could feel every ounce of patience he had left leave his body and the burn of anger replace it. He heard the pounding of his heartbeat behind his ears, filling up his head with the steady drumming, red hot anger flowing out through his veins. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth and he realized that he was biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to split the skin and mix the salty red fluid with his saliva. His mouth was filled with a cocktail of leftover bad alcohol, blood, and angry words that spilled out, "Maybe you should have said something before I left! Or answered my calls when I fucking needed you. A best friend would actually fucking care enough to see what's going on! Don't call yourself my best friend if you can't fucking look me in the eyes."

At the last word, Colby's voice was a yell and his face was mere inches away from Sam's, who recoiled at the aggressive words and the faint smell of alcohol on his breath. The words stung like a bitch, cutting at his dignity so harshly he didn't know how to respond.  The shock of the outburst rendered him like a statue as he cowered next to Colby's panting stance. He backed away and tried to compose himself the best he could despite the malicious stare of the other and asked simply, "Are you drunk?"

Of course, it wasn't what he had deemed the most important of all of the information that had just been strewn at him but it was the only one he knew how to process. It didn't seem possible for Colby to be so angry. Not to him, at least. So everything in Sam's mind screamed that it wasn't right or that he was perceiving the situation differently than how it really was. Every part of him wanted this to just be alcohol and not his actual best friend. He didn't know what he would do if it was - if he was loosing everything he had at that very moment. Much to his disappointment and dismay, Colby just spat, "That's what you fucking focus on? What difference does it make?"

Solby - StitchesWhere stories live. Discover now