Tay wobbled, staring at the empty beer cans littering on the kitchen floor. His eyes narrowed as he tried to count them and he couldn't. He opened the fridge door and sighed. No more beer... and he wanted more.
Phone... gotta get my phone. Tay stumbled to the bedroom and stubbed his toe on the bed. He cursed loudly but the lump under his duvet never moved. Blurrily, he reached for the drawer and pulled it open, grabbing the older phone.
Ignoring all the text messages, he dialed the delivery service, ordering not just more beer but also breakfast, since it was almost 3 a.m. and Newwie was an early riser. He transferred the money and sighed. He might loose his buzz before it arrived but there was no way he could sleep next to him.
Him... how he envied New for his ability to sleep. He glanced at the pill bottle and wondered if New took his pills today. He had almost forgotten among everything else but the sight of that damn bottle triggered him.
His eyes narrowed. He had perfect recall. Fucking OCD...
The desk drawer wasn't shut. The pill bottle had been moved. He glanced at New's sleeping form and took several deep breaths. It wasn't spying, it was taking care of him. Fine, I'm justifying it, but fuck it, I need to know what he's up too!
He took out New's phone and swore. When did he password protect it? He tossed it back into the drawer and sighed. The pill bottle! He picked it up and took it to the low table and dumped it out, carefully counting them. There was two more missing than there should be...
He powered up the old phone and searched out the drug, wanting to know if he should be worried. He sighed with relief. It wasn't an overdose. New would be fine. Why did he feel like crying? He looked again at the phone and sighed.
The new message icon flashing was triggering. Finally he hit the message button and blinked. He almost dropped the phone. New Thitipoom was the last message received. This phone, being an older model, didn't have a preview.
What did he have to say that he couldn't say in person?
You know what he has to say, Tay, you just don't want to hear it. After today, you can't blame New, either. Fuck it, it's either good news or bad, just open it!
Closing his eyes so he wasn't looking when it opened, he tapped the button. He heard the tinny beep and counted to three and opened his eyes.
He blinked. Then blinked again. Okay, so it was bad news. Well, he had expected it.
*Stayed too long. TY. See your email. New.
Tay blinked again, wondering why he was blinking so much. It wasn't until the words on the phone looked weird, that he realized he was crying. Big, slow tears were rolling down his face, silently. He reached up and brushed them away with the back of his hand.
"Not the time to loose it," He muttered as the intercom buzzed. "No, it's not. It's time to finish getting drunk. You fucked everything up." He stumbled to the door, careless of how he looked, only opening it far enough to put his arm out for the bag, snatching it and pulling it in.
He didn't care about manners, just wanting to get back to his safe space and getting a beer open.
~~~~~~~~~~
On the other side of the door, the reporter cursed. He had paid the delivery guy a lot of cash to take that fucking bag up here, positive that it was Tay Tawan's apartment and that HE had New Thitipoom hidden in there. Every other reporter had given up, but not him. He never would, either.
His lip curled. Because of New, he had lost his management job, spent 6 months in jail for embezzlement, and when he came out, was unemployable. The only joy he had, after he had used the ill gotten earnings to get plastic surgery in Korea, and purchase a new identity, was to destroy his life the way New destroyed his.
So far, he had managed to ensure he was alone, and that the public was against every relationship he tried to start. But if he was with Tay, he shook his head, and sighed, he didn't know if that tactic would work, especially with the possible announcement of their new project.
He snarled loudly, "It doesn't matter asshole, I will find a way to ruin you. I will get you."
~~~~~~~~~~
New groaned when the doorbell rang. The room was dark so it was still in during the night. There was no dip in the bed, no extra warmth.
Tay never came to bed, despite me leaving the door unlocked.
Did he check his email from his laptop? I'm screwed if I leave in the morning! I have to go now!
Panic set in, reason fled. New's overdeveloped flight response kicked in and he grabbed the neat pile of clothing set carefully in the corner, except for the shirt, preferring to take one of Tay's as a memento. He sighed softly, fingering the brushed cotton.
Swiftly, he pulled on the clothes, so they became a suit of armour and went looking for Tay. He wasn't on the couch. He went to the washroom and again, not there. He did his business, carefully brushing his teeth. Sighing, he looked at his puffy face and redden whites of his eyes.
I need to leave! We won't be able to work this out anymore without space. Slowly, New opened the door and went to the kitchen, afraid to see how bad Tay was... it had to be a beer night. That was the only choice left.
Lips pressed into a thin line, he looked down at a mess. Tay sat on the floor, legs extended, surrounded by a lot of empty beer cans. More than he'd ever seen one person drink before. Why'd he get so fucking drunk?
You know why... He read your email! But why would that have set him off? I don't understand...
He watched Tay finish off his can of beer without even tasting it, and blindly reach into the fridge. Without thinking, he stopped him. "That's enough. Let's get you to bed."
Tay pushed him back and beer cans toppled everywhere. "Oh! It's you! The man who runs away and sleeps all the time." He tried to stand. "Don't touch me!" He finally lifted his face and looked at New, squatting on his heels in front of him. "Don't fucking touch me. I'm dirty."
New surveyed him, Tay's reddened cheeks from the alcohol, puffy from retaining water (or was it?) "I don't care about that. It's late and you need to stop before you kill yourself." New understood this, from first hand experience. Too much booze could kill you. He wondered if Tay knew it was possible to drink yourself to death, and not slowly, the way that alcoholics did it.
"Why do you care?" Tay mumbled, more to himself. "You're running away from me." He weaved and almost fell, trying to stand up. "You don't love me, although I heard you say it." He found his balance and faced Newwie, who just stood there, biting on his bottom lip.
New saw it. Something snapped Tay's fragile hold on his emotions, and while he wasn't sure what that was, he knew he was going to be the target. He'd been the target before. Fuck... I'm too close to him. I need space between us! Now!
He couldn't help it, his flight response. It had saved his hide too many times before. He took two steps, backing up and turned to leave. It was the wrong thing to do.
The worst thing he could have done...
~~~~~~~~~~
Tay threw the bag on the counter, pulling the beer out and slid down to the floor. He took one can, and put the rest into the fridge. He popped the top and took a long sip. He sighed as it went down cold.
"Why'd he send an email?" He rubbed the cold can across his temple, thinking aloud. "Why didn't he just talk to me?" He took another long drink from the can and sighed. "New, I just don't understand. We used to talk really well together. Why can't we still do it?"
Tay finished the beer and popped open the next can and downed it in three long gulps. The previous buzz returned really fast. He reached for another can but a hand stopped him.
A hand? Who's hand was here?
Blearily, he peered up and squinted, trying to see who it was. "Oh! It's you! The man who runs away and sleeps all the time." Drunk, Tay pushed himself to stand up, wobbly on his feet. He slapped New's shoulder, in a friendly manner, and almost fell. "I don't understand you, Newwie!"
The room wavered and Tay blinked, knowing New was speaking but it was garbled. He leaned forward, trying to bring his face into focus. "Stop moving around so much, New. You're making me dizzy!" He fell forward, landing on the floor.
Suddenly, he gave a loud belch and promptly threw up, giving him a clear view of New's backside growing smaller.
Tay let out a small guttural scream at the sight of New's back. In his drunken mind, all the hurt and pain, it boiled down to this moment: New was leaving him. Instead of working things out, he chose the easy path, that of running.
No! He was fighting for his man. He flung himself at New, throwing his whole weight at him, knocking him to the floor. To him, it made perfect sense to do this. It was the best way to keep him here, just hold him until they could talk about it!
"Not leaving, you're never leaving me, Newwie! Don't say you love someone and leave them." He mumbled, not knowing nothing was clear, or even said loud enough for New to hear.
Underneath him, New lay unconscious.
Tay shook him, once, then twice. Finally satisfied New wasn't going anywhere, he rolled off onto his back and pulled him into his arms, holding him tight. "I can't let you go. We belong together." He sniffed, wiping his nose on his arm, for once not caring. "If this is what being in love is like, I fucking hate it."
In his drunken state, it never crossed his mind that New hadn't moved.
In his drunken state, it never crossed his mind that New hadn't protested.
In his drunken state, it never crossed his mind that New hadn't fought him.
In his drunken state, he finally passed out, there on the cold kitchen tiles, surrounded by several dozen beer cans, half on top of New, who finally began to stir inside the prison of his arms.