WORD COUNT: 1065
self-requested
A hard gulp, the slamming of glass and the urge to ask for more. That was all the blonde's vacation was. Late night trips to bars, and drunken phone calls to cabs that probably would be sick and tired of the man's storytelling. A lot of them knew too much information, though, it's not like Leon would remember whatever he had said. He'd constantly ask himself how he got somewhere after a night of wasting his liver.
Yes, he knew he was an alcoholic, but claims he that he couldn't do anything about it and continues his toxic cycle.
The blonde felt grief, the world waying down on him. His mental stability plummeted, and with that went his happiness.
He felt it, the drowning sensation of depression and he'd fix it with a burning sensation in his throat and a slured word.
"More."
He woke up again, sweaty and sick. The sun had already rose hours ago and it would set soon. His left hand placed on his forehead, and his right helped him sit up. A full bottle of water and a single liquid tablet of ibuprofen sat on the off-white bedside table underneath a thin piece of paper that read 'Don't stay in bed too late!' written in neat yet rushed handwriting.
'Too late.' he thought to himself.
Without a question, he took it. The sound of the, now empty, plastic bottle hitting the bottom of the empty garbage can that was rested against the white wall.
Slowly he got out of bed, feeling another pang of pain in his left temple. He let out a sharp grunt, his breath hitched. His feet touched the cold floor leaving a shiver down his back. He looked at the clock hanging on the white wall to his side. The time read 6:43 but the light seeping through the windows read 8 in the afternoon.
The sun beginning to set. The sun left too early and rose too late. The weather outside was cool, autumn breeze entering the screen window.
He closed the bedroom door, the apartment cool as the screen balcony door was exposed to the outside. The dancing red and yellow colours outside hurt his ocean eyes so he decided to untie the curtains, letting it hit each other as it closes off the sunset. The apartment was dark again.
Flicking the light on and lowering the brightness to his living room he stumbled into his kitchen, his legs still weak. Cabinets being forced open; mugs, plates, bowls. Finally, pulling out the bottle from the fridge. The brown tinted bottle held tightly by his large hands.
Stumbling back into the living room, he plops onto the white couch, making it squeak. The bottle pops open as Leon takes a large gulp, his throat burning again. Swiping the remote from the coffee table in front of him, turning the large flat screen on. The television was set on the news, although he couldn't care much for them.
He sinks into the couch, planting his feet on the white coffee table. Another large swig of whiskey burning his throat. The front door opens, keys jingle and a large sigh. The door closes quietly, shoes changing into slippers. The light autumn coat placed gently on the arm of the couch.
"Where've you been?" Leon's asks, his voice horce and rough. "On a date." she replied, sinking into the couch beside him. She grabs the remote from the other side of him, changing the channels. "How was it?" Leon asks, taking another large gulp. "Not my type."
"Nothing's your type."
The girl shrugged, deeply sighing. "I felt bad." she said, slowly moving from the couch. She made her way to the kitchen a bouquet of flowers in hand. "You're too nice." he states, another gulp of whiskey down his throat. "Maybe."
Water rushed into the vase, the bunch of flowers barley able to fit inside. She replaced the wilting ones on the small dining table. The female sighed again, wiping her wet hands on her white short dress. Heading her way towards Leon, without a word she grabs the large bottle out of his hands replacing it with a plastic water bottle.
He thanked her, opening the water bottle in his hand and drank from it; setting it down beside him. "Do you think I should stop?" he asks nonchalantly. "You always ask that and I always say yes." she replies from their shared kitchen. The familiar smells of lavender dresses their apartment and the clink of mugs were normal.
She dazed back to the male holding two cups of tea. "You know I don't like tea." he states, looking at her smile. "Try new things." she states simply.
"Life repeats itself until you do something about it." she quotes.
"Where'd you get that from?"
"Either myself or a book."
"Of course."
They softly chuckle, a steaming mug brought to her soft lips as she takes a sip. Leon hesitated but softly grabbed the mug, blowing into the liquid. He took a small sip, the liquid burning his mouth. "Ow, shit!" He spits suddenly in surprise. The female softly laughs, grabbing a tissue with her other hand.
Dabbing around his mouth. "Despite the heat it's actually kind of good."
She smiles, "Can your jeans taste?"
He softly chuckles at her, "Seriously."
She nods, a soft giggle escaping her lips "I'm glad." He smiles at her, their faces close to each other. His hands softly placed around her neck; pulling her closer, their lips softly colliding their eyes closed.
The kiss was short and sweet they hadn't pulled away till seconds later. She could taste the lavender tea lingering on his lips. "Hey," he suddenly said, looking away from her. The girl hums in response.
"I think I love you." he states.
"I've loved you longer." she replies, they look at each other again. His eyes shining into hers and they stare, content with eachother's presence. She didn't know if it was him or the alcohol talking since she's said that multiple times to him and he has never remembered the next day. But this time she didn't care. She looked at him again with the same wondering eyes as she did a week ago and they spent their night with eachother in bed all over again. The difference was next morning he loved her the same.
