| 65 | you need to be sober for this

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The bar was packed and surprisingly Daisy didn't need to pull out her ID to get a drink. To Timothée, she looked like any other nineteen year old would look like, but apparently to the bartender, she looked more like a snack and he didn't mind if she was sixteen or twenty-one or thirty five, he was still going to pour her a drink if his life depended on it.

Timothée wanted to tell the bartender to check her ID, and he also wanted to smack him for looking at her like she was a piece of meat rather than a human being but he didn't do any of those things. Instead, he watched her down a few shots like it was nothing. Like it was merely a cup of water.

'So.. that's it? You're an alcoholic now?' Timothée says bravely. He had been afraid of her and how she would react to things all night but watching her down that shot sparked something in him. It made him protective over her and he didn't care if he had to hurt her feelings, she needed to stop this.

'I'm not an alcoholic.' She says ever so surely.

Timothée scoffs. 'Then what do you call drinking obsessively, like it's the only thing you ever do.' He watched her, his eyes solid and he doesn't look away. He knows she isn't really an alcoholic but she was on the verge of being one and soon enough, if she kept on doing what she was doing there would be no going back.

'You don't know what I do. You weren't around for the past year to know anything about me or about my obsessive drinking problem.' She takes another shot, and looks at Timothée rudely. She wanted to hurt him, more than anything. She wanted him to know that a part of this drinking problem she was having was his doing.

'I know that I wasn't there. But I've seen the articles and the photos and I saw you at the club.' He recalls the night at the club, when the pervert held her in places she shouldn't be held. It made him feel sick, but he was also shocked that night because she was intoxicated. And from what he knew, Daisy never drank. Until now. Now she never stopped drinking.

'You were at that club too. But somehow I'm the bad guy and you're the innocent one.' She doesn't take another shot, she just looks at the alcohol in front of her and studies it, wondering if she should let it into her system or not.

'I wasn't drinking. I was picking up my drunk best friend.' Timothée explains to her because she had it all wrong. After seeing Harvey in the state he was in, Timothée barely touched alcohol unless there was a special occasion of course. Then he would make an exception. 

'Well... if your friend was drunk too then that proves I'm not the only person in the world who likes to get drunk sometimes.' Daisy hiccups slightly, it was the most adorable thing Timothée had ever seen but he didn't let it get to him. He didn't let his guard down. She needed to know what she was doing was going to hurt her in the end. So he stayed harsh and tried his best not to sound too soft or too weak as he spoke to her.

'You don't get drunk sometimes, you do it all the time now. And you saw what it did to Harvey-'

Daisy cuts him off, her voice painful, and Timothée could have sworn he saw something in her eyes, something terrifying. 'Don't. Don't say his name.' she says shaking her head vigorously.

'Why not?' Timothée asks, his eyebrows raised, his face close enough to hers that he could smell the alcohol coming from her breath and it sickened him, because this wasn't her. This wasn't the Daisy he knew. 'I have as much of a right to say Harvey's name as you do. I might not be his family, but I saw him that night too. And it taught me something.'

Daisy shakes her head, backing away from him. She looks away and she shakes her head at him again and again in anger. 'Shut up Timothée.' she spits furiously.

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