𝙸 𝚑𝚘𝚙𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛
𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚘𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛𝚜
𝙸 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝙸'𝚍 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎
𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛
𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛
𝙸𝚝'𝚜 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐, 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛
𝘋𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳 – 𝘕𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘋𝘦𝘦𝘱
AUSTIN
A mountain of failed gift-wrapping attempts sat next to me as I started what I hoped would be my last one. Smoothing out the foiled paper flush against mahogany slats and carefully placing one of the two vinyl records I'd gotten for Elsie strategically in the middle. A scissor still dangled from my pinky while my palm attempted ease the frustration built up behind my eyeball.
"Okay, it's fine. I can do this. It's just wrapping a fucking gift." I muttered to myself, something I did quite often. When you have to reassure yourself as much as I did, saying the words just in your head got to be inadequate.
Taking a deep breath, I repeated the process I had already done what seemed like a million times – fold (poorly), tape, fold, tape, add a cute 'to/from' sticker tag, a bow, then holding it out to admire my handiwork.
Then, paranoia all over again.
My stupid fucking brain.
I tried my best to delicately tear a small corner from the taped gift in order to double check that it was the right record. And obviously, it was the same fucking one as the last ten, but of course it destroyed the wrap job completely.
"Fuck!" I swore, letting out a charged, frustrated groan before chucking the kitchen scissors across the living room floor. Then, ripping the gift wrap off, crumping it into a ball and repeated the action, landing opposite the scissors.
My foolish coping trick was the first line of defense when I attempted to focus on one of the thousand skyscrapers that scattered outside my floor-to-ceiling windows. City glows and holiday twinkles littered the midnight skyline, then a wall of snow flurries poured over the scene. There wasn't a damn thing out there that interested me enough to stare at to distract me. If anything, the arrogant bustling city only added to my heightened state. My eyes then scanned across the room – the wall, no – the couch, no – the coffee table –
The mug on the coffee table. Elsie's mug.
Reminding me of how we had spent almost every Christmas Eve together for the past 6 years. Well, we met on Christmas eve and sat in a breakfast diner until about 2 am Christmas morning. But the traditions really began when we moved into our apartment the year after that, sophomore year. We'd find the most pathetic looking evergreen at the closest tree farm and brought it home.
We were both so broke we couldn't afford real decorations, so we'd buy plastic dollar store ornaments and even made some out of paper. Like kindergarteners we'd get a thick stack of construction paper and create those chain garlands, draping them all over the house. Then on Christmas eve we'd wear tacky matching PJs, make the sweetest hot chocolate with the biggest marshmallows and watch cheesy Christmas movies.
Christmas celebrations with my family were always so chaotic and stressful, full of arguments and tears. But the ones with Elsie were so easy, so fun. I hated Christmas until I met her.
When we finally decided to not renew our lease last year and she moved in with Nox, I packed our decorations away into storage totes, keeping all of them, even the paper ones. I intended to surprise her with them and have her help me decorate this holiday, but then all this shit happened.
And so, here I was staring at her favorite mug that was filled with my futile effort at the hot cocoa tradition, by myself. I out did her in almost every concoction that required a kitchen, but her hot chocolate was one I could never quite replicate. But maybe if I added enough sugar, enough syrup, enough marshmallows, it just might have some aftertaste of hers. I thought it might bring some sort of comfort and festivity to this lonely Christmas eve.
My heart was still thumping and my hands already trembling from the inability to wrap a fucking gift, but I kept staring at that stupid, condescending cup. I lifted it off the table, leaving behind a brown ring on the glass and brought it to my lips. Tipping the entirely full and now cold beverage to my lips, letting the liquid seep past the layer of melted marshmallow. Immediately repulsed at the taste, spitting it out. It was bitter.
"Augh-" Wiping the liquid off my chin and furrowed my brows at the cup, "What the fuck?"
How the fuck could I have made hot chocolate bitter?
Using my index, I gently pushed the mountain of marshmallow to inspect the drink. It was watery, pitch black and had floating specks. Specks.
Grounds.
The cup was full of coffee. Black fucking coffee.
My entire body stilled, my hand on the handle while cold coffee dripped down over my fingertips, my breathing stagnant, my eyes watching the swirling grounds. I tore apart the scene from every angle, similar to when you see a giant spider in your home. You stop, analyze the surroundings, their possible escape routes, process your options, maybe even try to identify the spider to see if it's poisonous.
Right now, that mug was a familiar pest, but I had to weigh out how dangerous it really was. Racing through the steps I took earlier to make this cup, but all I could see was me ripping open an instant hot chocolate pouch, pouring it into the warm milk and mixing it. I thought I could remember even taste testing it to check the sweetness. It was all so real, vivid, tangible.
I had been taking my meds – or at least trying to.
It took a moment before complete and utter descent kicked in.
My chest felt tight, constraining, like an anaconda wrapped around my ribs, and just about every negative emotion a human could feel hit me like a train. Anger, heartache, loathing, sadness, jealousy, frustration, everything. Before I could even process the rumble surging through me, the full cup soared through the air clashing into my white wall. Ceramic shards flying and coffee painting the wall brown.
The sight of it encapsulated everything I was experiencing, the shattered cup a perfect analogy for me and Elsie. Her favorite mug in pieces. Something that was once full of beauty and meaning, now shattered on the ground. The scene reflected my mind as well - broken, fragmented, incapable of being used anymore.
I folded my extended legs into myself when tears began to well in my eyes, pressing my face against my knees and wrapped arms around them. My sobs shaking my entire body and soaked my stupid Christmas pajama pants.
I didn't know what I was crying about – the frustration of not being able to trust my brain? The inability to wrap a fucking gift because of said brain? The lack of my best friend? or the sheer loneliness of this eve?
The harder I cried the tighter my grip was around myself. It was the hardest I'd cried in a while, maybe even since my dad. But at least I had Elsie then. Now I had to play some fucked up game of chess just to see her on Christmas.
"Okay," Wiping the tears aggressively with the palms of my hands, "I can do this." My breaths still rapid and staggered.
The words of my father rang in my ears –
Shut the fuck up, men don't fucking cry
Only little girls sob like that
Be a fucking man and cut it out
You're an embarrassment
Why was I relying on a woman to come save me? A woman that wasn't mine? A woman that didn't even want me?
Once my cries slowed enough to pull myself up, I went to what I really relied on - arguably worse than any girl. Going straight to the cluster of orange prescription bottles scattered all over the apartment, finding the one I wanted on the granite kitchen counter. I plucked an entire bar and knocked it back with ease.
If I wanted to get those fucking presents wrapped, I needed to do it before the pill entered my system fully.
Unrolling the wrapping paper tube reaching the end, leaving me with just enough to finish. I laid out the metallic paper, placed the records on their respective squares and employed my last resort when I really couldn't trust my mind. I used my phone to snap several – several pictures of the records, front and back, from all angles. Now, I had concrete proof for myself that they were correct ones. Even with the evidence, I figured out a way to leave a small discrete opening in the back so I would have an extra layer of verification.
As the Xanax began to filter into my mind, I decided it would be a great idea to write a letter to Elsie, basically emotionally dumping whatever I felt in that moment.
Though I hadn't decided when or if I'd ever let her read it.
-
I slipped on a pair of dark jeans, getting ready for this stupid fucking group Christmas Elsie had arranged. I didn't understand why she would even set this up, why she pushed us to get along - but whatever it was important to her.
What I couldn't wrap my head around was why Nox allegedly wanted to apologize, I knew he wasn't sorry. I hypothesized that it was all Elsie's puppeteering, and we were just her dolls on dangling strings.
Regardless, it felt a lot like a minefield. I wasn't much of a people person, I avoided them as much as humanly possible. Though, that was difficult being in the industry I was in. But people like Nox always kept me on my toes, they reminded me so much of my dad. I loathed the juvenile mind games and territorial rivalry.
Nox was convinced I wanted something that wasn't mine. It was as simple as that. I suppose this fence mending dinner was the perfect time to prove him wrong. I could wave a white flag and call for a ceasefire. I shouldn't have to fucking tip toe around my best friend of six years just because of some fucking asshole. As much of a shitty thought it was, I knew they wouldn't last.
He was temporary, I wasn't.
I piled gifts in my arms. The gift wrap crinkling around the two flat presents reminded me of my last-minute verification method. I lifted the tiny hidden opening at the back to check the record, then pulling out my phone to match them to what was in my hands. This process delayed me quite a bit – about 20 minutes late as I kept going back between the two pieces of reassuring evidence. Before I left, I poured some white tablets into my palm, deciding to snap one in half and swallowing it dry. I couldn't be too out of it in front of her, especially not on Christmas.
-
After a knock, I anxiously waited for Elsie to open the door. The most enthusiastic smile plastered on her face when it finally cracked. "Yay you're finally here!" She exclaimed before even fully opening the door. Joyful arms squeezed around me, filling my nose with a strong peppermint scent, "Merry Christmas Austin!"
Hm, Austin. Not Aus or Aust or Austie. I wonder fuckin why.
Even though 'Austie' was the lamest fucking one, it was my favorite. I'd do whatever she wanted when she used it. She could ask me to bring her lava and I'd figure out how some way to gather some for her, even it singed me, even if I came back to her looking like Deadpool.
She wore a short, strapless red dress with scrunched sleeves just off her shoulders, a black corset tied around her waist. It almost resembled a pirate's dress. Her hair curled and topped with reindeer antlers. A sudden flash of her on my couch in my oversized shirt using my lap as her own personal toy-
Thank god for Nox appearing because my eyes and thoughts would've lingered much longer. He crossed from the kitchen. His outfit much like mine, black jeans, black shirt. Except Elsie had just plopped a Santa hat on my head. "Nox won't wear one." She glared over at him with a pout.
And of course, I would, right? Because I do all the things he doesn't, right? Including making her fucking come. Must be nice to have your cake and eat it too. I'd like to have just one fucking decent slice of cake. The abrupt rumble of resentment told me maybe this Christmas special was a mistake.
"Hey man, I just wanted to say sorry about... well everything." He gave me the stereotypical 'bro' handshake. I didn't believe a word that man said, but this time it did seem genuine. Perhaps he did have some sense knocked into him from having the best thing that could ever happen to him ripped away, even temporarily.
"It's alright, I'm sorry too." My best attempt at a cordial apology.
"Okay okay! Presents!" Elsie broke the tense air, clapping excitedly.
My brain already began to slow down thanks to the meds and suddenly, the idea of this didn't seem so bad, maybe even fun. That sense was fleeting though when she went to grasp my hand but promptly drew away, probably remembering her boyfriend was right fucking there.
Funny how this worked - her instinctively reaching for my hand and the word 'baby' swirling at the tip of my tongue. The memories from a couple weeks ago looping in my brain – the dressing room, truth or dare, dancing, couch, eating, cuddling.
They seemingly just no longer existed. They didn't mean anything, they never happened.
The fucking close call clause.
Did they mean anything? Did they mean anything to her? Did they mean anything to me?
A jarring twist in my chest suggested that they might mean something - or it might be because she was completely unaffected.
But it was wrong, the twist wasn't any of those things, I was just fucking angry.
The close call clause was in place for a reason, for this exact reason. And normally it would be relieving, but for some reason it no longer felt like a safety net. As if what we did had burned a hole straight through the web, and I was falling through it.
Falling into what exactly?
She led us to the sloppily decorated tree, surely because she wasn't home for so long or because she didn't have me to help her. And I knew Nox wasn't one to assist in any sort of festivities. "C'mon," She tapped the ground next to her looking at me, "Sit." But naturally, Nox stole the seat. So, I chose to sit to the other side of her, further away.
Nox and I exchanged gifts first. It's always awkward when you're required to get gifts for people you don't really know.
Shocker, we got each other the same things – Amazon gift cards.
She excitedly handed over a small container to Nox. He opened the box revealing a luxury designer watch, silver with a navy face. "Oh, thank you baby."
'Baby'
A sharp jab pierced through me as the memory of calling her that rolled across my brain. It didn't sound right when he said it, it sounded like a lie. But I guess I was lying too, since I only ever managed to call her that when I wanted to be inside her.
"Do you like it?" She chirped, straightening up like a little kid giving their parents a finger painting.
"Yeah of course." Wrapping his arm around her and pressed a kiss to her temple.
I studied him, this was a reconciliation dinner after all. I wanted to know if it was genuine, picking apart every word, tone and gesture. It appeared authentic – so fucking bland, but authentic. Perhaps that's why she'd get so wrapped up in him, he could just act this way and she was pliable in his hands again.
"Your turn Austin!" She shot up from the floor, "Wait here! Close your eyes!"
My eyebrows scrunched watching her scurry away across the grey carpet. What could she possibly have gotten me to require this song and dance? I glanced over at Nox, sensing his anger but keeping a pokerface. A stupid, happy, festive pokerface. Any other time, her cheerful excitement would wrap me in a fluffy warm cloud but even with the Xan beginning to kick in, I was still just unnecessarily fuming. Nonetheless, I closed my eyes as instructed and waited for her.
Some fumbling came from the other side of the apartment before I sensed her next to me. "Okay! Open!" I was almost afraid to look, any tiny misstep threatened to set Nox off.
Cracking my left eye before opening both wide. She stood there with a vintage guitar, one I had been searching for - for years. I think I had only ever mentioned this guitar to her once. During one of our first trips to our college diner, before I even learned how to play.
"I- Oh my god Elsie." In complete awe of the wooden instrument.
"I know your new role has some music parts, I thought this might help." She beamed at me, wider than with Nox's gift. Her green eyes brighter than they were with him.
"Wow- um you really didn't have to do this." Leaning forward my fingers tracing the smooth, worn curves. "How did you even know?"
"I pay attention." Shrugging and giving me the soft kind smile that always seemed to melt me.
That was my Elsie. Not whatever artificial shell of a human Nox turns her into. How can you see her, who she is, her heart and treat her the way he does? Why would you want to change her?
"I'm, just wow. It's beautiful Elsie, thank you so much."
She didn't need to ask me if I liked it. She knew.
She rested the guitar across the couch before coming back to sit down. Nox handed his present to her, a generic teardrop diamond necklace. But she acted like it was the best thing on the planet. Probably because it was the nicest gift he'd ever given her.
Her arms wrapped around his waist nuzzling into him, "Thanks babe." She shined, "It's so pretty!" The way her eyes flickered up at him broke completely through the calm lull of my high, for some reason making me more furious, livid even. The sort of fierce anger that I'd only ever felt when disgusting men would hit on my girlfriends at bars and clubs.
But as her delicate fingers unraveled the thin chain from the box handing it to him to place around her neck, it brought another sensation. His tattooed hands gently laid the silver necklace on her accentuated collarbones and clasped it at the back. The same ferocious feeling came but beneath a different filter. It was like someone took the arteries in my beating heart, wrapped them around the thumping muscle, then tied them in strangling knots.
Why?
Wanting to fuck her was one thing but wanting to put some cliché necklace around her neck? That was different. I didn't fucking like that feeling. That was the worst one yet.
"Are ya gonna keep me waiting or what?" She joked, leaning out of Nox's arm to lightly smack my own. It was only then that I realized my stare had stayed on them when my thoughts ran rampant. I glanced over at Nox, finding an expected displeased look.
"Oh, Oh yeah sorry." I twisted behind myself and picked up the poorly wrapped slender boxes, stealthily peeling the paper back to ease my doubt one last time before handing them over to her. Coincidentally I had also gotten her something had long been on her 'in search of' list. "Alright well, I'm not sure I'll be able to top that, but I hope this comes close."
Her dainty fingers followed the edges of the wrapped presents then tucking a soft chocolate curl behind her ear. From the gift's shape it was pretty obvious that they were vinyls, but she was probably assuming they were some new albums, thinking something like Taylor Swift or Halsey. She gently tore the wrapping paper seeing only the corner and letting out a gasp already able to tell what it was, "Austin!"
Elsie loved old music (hence the Cher guilty pleasure) but an even bigger love than Cher was-
"Oh my god it's Elvis!" Then followed what could only be described as an ear-piercing screech. "Aaahhh!" Almost as if she flew off the ground and pummeled me to the floor (still screaming) knocking all the wind out from my lungs. The spirit of the king must've certainly been in her at that moment because my god, I'd never seen anyone move that fast. It was what I imagine parents experience when they give their kids Harry Styles tickets, just ear drum shattering screaming and 'thank you's.
The records I got her were antique Elvis vinyls, originals from his very first albums. They cost me an arm and a leg, literally, an absurd amount of money I didn't even want to say outloud - but this reaction was worth it.
"Thank you thank you thank you!" She hugged me tight, her body on top of me and then, at just at the right angle away from Nox, she smushed my face in her hands and planted an aggressive smooch on my cheek. Yep, those expensive little plastic discs were worth this. And if her looming boyfriend wasn't just feet away, I don't think I could've restrained from pulling her on top of me in that skimpy dress.
Once her spirit returned to her body she promptly recoiled, regaining composure in front of a visibly irritated Nox. "Oh- I'm so sorry everyone." She chuckled, nervously playing with her fingers, "I just got really excited."
My slowed body struggled to pull myself upright again. I didn't need to look up to know what Nox's reaction was like this time. Fucking Elsie, with an antic like that I could very well get my ass kicked, for real this time.
"Well." He cleared his throat sending a rumble through the apartment, "That was eventful."
"I- Yeah, sorry, I know you don't like when I get loud like that." Her voice now shy, hidden and her attention on her hands as they smoothed out the plastic that covered the vintage record.
My jaw clenched and fists tightened hearing her shrink herself down for him. That's when I turned my now fuming eyes at him, his nearly black ones already on me. No surprise that they matched my energy, his girlfriend just tackled me to the ground, screaming. I knew that was something she wasn't doing with him, in any context. She certainly didn't restrain from being loud with me when my head was between her thighs, and I definitely didn't mind.
Then in the most terrifying switch, one I visibly saw in his eyes, he shifted. He confirmed it when he flashed a pleasant grin. "I just didn't know you liked Elvis so much babe." Was this man not dating her? Did he even know the color of her eyes?
The buzzing of her explaining to him how much she loved the king of rock and roll faded to the background as the full weight of the drug kicked in. I brought my hand up to touch the searing remnants on my cheek from where she placed her lips. It only made me realize that through all of the shit we did at my house – the dancing, the touching, the couch – we never kissed. Not once. She never even kissed my neck. I didn't kiss hers either. My mouth did touch her, but never a kiss.
So maybe she was right, it never happened. Nothing happened. We never even kissed.
It's not like we were having some illicit affair, but I still felt like a secret.
She wasn't mine to kiss. She wasn't mine to fuck. She wasn't mine to want. She wasn't mine to have. She wasn't mine at all. She was his. And as much as the thought of it nauseated me, it was the harsh reality.
-
They ordered take out Chinese. Although Elsie and I protested since people shouldn't be working on Christmas, but Nox insisted. Elsie passed a white and red carton to me.
"So, Elsie tells me that you landed that one role?" Nox asked, proving that he didn't listen to a word she said since she just gave me an entire guitar for it. I believed his apology earlier but after the gift exchange I became hyperaware of any word he said.
My decelerated mind took a moment to process. "Yeah, yeah." Scooping out some lo mein onto my plate. "It's not that big really, but definitely bigger than any other role I've had." He just nodded and I passed the carton to him. "She told me that you just got a promotion too?" Nox worked in some business office, typical former fratboy pipeline.
"Yeah, it's been great. More money but of course more responsibility."
I glanced over to Elsie, who looked like a parent who was monitoring siblings getting along. A part of me wanted to play nice and keep a smile on her face, the other part wanted to end the dinner there, tell Nox off and leave.
The sinking paranoia from earlier took a front seat as my gaze stayed on her as if some subtle gesture would confirm or deny the authenticity of our transgressions. If it had all been imaginary then any stirred feelings were just that, delusions. It would make all of this so much easier. It was then that felt a pair of eyes boring into me, realizing that lost in my own thoughts my stare never left Elsie.
Excruciatingly uncomfortable small talk swirled back and forth between us the entire dinner.
-
In a bustle while cleaning up Nox bumped into Elsie spilling red wine all over her dress. She immediately left to get the stain out, he didn't offer to help, and I certainly wasn't going to, seeing as I didn't have a death wish. I made my way to the kitchen to help clean up, wanting to keep busy in an effort to avoid any awkward small talk with Nox.
Almost in the instant she left the room, the brooding raven-haired male was in my face, grasping my shirt with a fist and shoving me back, this time against the counter. Fucking Elsie, I knew her little show with the gifts would land me here. "Listen here fucker, I'm sick of you filling her head up with bullshit." His voice dark, only slightly different from his normal voice. The angular edges of his face seemed even sharper.
"Bullshit?" I questioned, "What the fuck are you talking about?" God this was so ridiculous. We're grown adults, why was I being thrown around like a rag doll over some stolen glances. But with the high that weighed down my limbs, I had nothing in my arsenal to fight back.
"You with your fake mental shit, your 'hallucinations'. Telling her you saw me fucking cheating?" Ramming his boney fist into my sternum. "I know you're just doing it so she'll come to your rescue, so she'll leave me for you." His eyebrows furrowed with intimidation, creating deep wrinkles between them.
"They're not fucking fake, I'm fucked up in the head, obviously." Regarding him with a sneer. "I don't need rescuing for her to come to me."
"I see the way you look at her." Thankfully not catching onto my sly jab.
"I don't know what y—" Going to protest.
He shoved me back again, his fist tightening around my shirt, and each knuckle making itself known. "She told me about your little game of truth or dare."
Truth or dare – she only told him about truth or dare. And thank god because I'd probably be dead in a dumpster by now if he knew the rest.
I blinked up at him, "She told you?"
"Oh, you bet she did. I knew her touch was different, now I know why."
She touched him differently? After us?
"What the fuck do you mean different? Nothing even happened." Practically spitting his face.
"She hasn't wanted put out since she came home from you." Causing a vein to pop out of his forehead.
Who the fuck says 'put out'?
"Well, that's not my fucking fault, maybe you're just shitty in bed." His thick bushy brows lowered and forced me back into the cold, sharp granite edge.
Maybe my mouth had fucked some sense into her.
I beat him to it before he had a chance to explode, "I don't fucking want her Nox." A guilt pulsed like a lie. "She's yours."
He ignored me, "Now here's what going to happen." growling just inches from my face, his expression twisted into a threat, "I'm gonna introduce you to my friend, and you're going to like her, and you're going to leave my fucking girlfriend alone."
"And why the hell would I do whatever fucked up scheme that is?" Countering his insane demands. What normal person creates such a calculated plan. And what the fuck did that mean, his 'friend' and 'you're going to like her'. What, was he pimping me out to some random bitch?
The grip on my shirt only constricted, tightening the cotton around my chest, "Because I know your little secret."
"And what would that be?" I scoffed.
"Your bloodshot eyes and giant pupils. Your heavy, slow movements. Your slurred words." Tone pitched with prideful blackmail. He was right, the only reason I wasn't trying to escape was because moving was too much effort. "It's honestly shocking that your so called 'best friend' can't tell that you're fucking strung out."
I hadn't thought about it that way. Even though I was hiding it from her, and I didn't want her to know – actually hearing it caused me to view it in a different light. If I was obvious enough for Nox to notice, how didn't she? How could I notice her every tiny gesture, but she couldn't even tell I was high?
"You follow the plan, and you'll have an endless supply of whatever fix you want." He cushioned the appeal of this ridiculous plot.
Endless supply – now that was a thought. I could tell that my doctor was starting to get suspicious, I was only a couple more requested early refills before she'd cut me off.
Eyebrows furling up at him with curiosity, "And how exactly would you do that?"
"Ah, so I got your attention," His lips curving into an arrogant smirk, "The how is none of your concern."
I analyzed him, searching for any explanation of how exactly he'd have unlimited access to supposedly whatever I wanted. My silence must've answered some silent trick question since he followed with,
"I knew you'd sell out your little crush for some pills." Heaving me once more into the counter coaxing an audible wince when the edge dug into my hipbones, "You see, me and you are more alike than you think. We both rely on things we shouldn't. We both love the same thing – except that thing only loves one of us back."
Love?
Heavy eyes rounded at his words, more surprised at the visceral sting through my gut. I knew if I took any more time to unpack it, he'd suspect it meant something else.
"For the last fucking time, we are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. There is nothing is fucking going on, you're just fucking delusional."
"No, you're the one who's delusional to think she'd ever chose you over me, that she'd ever love you."
The sting returned, this time followed by rage. Though I was unsure what I was angry at, but it didn't matter. He wasn't the sender, just the messenger. My nails dug into my curled fists, "It's going to hurt her, being away from me. You know that."
"Yeah, and I'll be there to take care of her. I'll be the one to save her." That was it, wasn't it. He didn't like how it made him jealous, that she came to me more than him.
"I'm not doing it." I stated simply, taking any ounce of composure to mask the brewing fury.
"Well, if you don't go along with it, I'll tell her you relapsed."
And there it was. I hadn't wanted to say it. And he said it with such ease, when I couldn't even admit it to myself. If I said it out loud it'd make it real. But it was already fucking real.
But it was my secret and Elsie couldn't know. I didn't need her to know. There was still a part of me that believed I had it under control, that I could stop if I wanted. As long as I could get myself clean without her ever finding out, it would never hurt her. And I wouldn't have to burden her again.
Aside from the relapse, it was probably a good idea to stay away from her. Ever since Thanksgiving week, things hadn't been the same. At least not for me. I couldn't get her out of my head - her in my clothes, in my bed, in my arms. In my fucking lap.
It was eating away at me, even more than the drugs. The only thing harder than accepting my relapse was the realization that I had to push her away. I thought I could just stifle, push, stomp, burn it out - but today showed me that was impossible. It was too confusing, it hurt too much to be around her.
I had to do this stupid fucking scheme.
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// Thank you for all the love on this story, I appreciate every vote or comment. I'm happy you guys are enjoying it.
Fun fact: This chapter is followed by four back to back smut chapters 👀
xx