Imagine...
Getting really drunk after Alaska dies and Pudge helping you get back to bed while you keep mumbling about how much you miss her.
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You take another drink from your bottle of vodka, looking at the blurry figure in front of you for a few moments before realising who it was.
"Pudge!" You throw your arms out like you were expecting a hug. You quickly brought the bottle back for another sip. The drink had burned at first, but after the first couple of chugs you had become heavily intoxicated and only continued to drink. Your best friend was dead, what else were you to do? "Sit with me, have a drink, suck your own dick! Something!" You giggle at yourself, although you don't know why.
Pudge frowns, looking down at your drunk and broken form. Your eyes were horribly blood shot and you were covered in your own vomit.
"You need to sleep." He murmured, attempting to take the bottle from you. You retaliate by pulling the bottle close to your chest and holding it like you thought he was about to take away a suitcase full of money.
"No!"
"Come on, (y/n), this isn't healthy for you." He said.
"Neither is smoking, and you guys do that anyways." You reply, trying to take another sip. The bottle falls from your hand and shatters on the floor of your room. Tears begin to flood your eyes and realisation sets in like it had the first time. All the emotions you had felt when they told you came back. Alaska is dead. Dead. Dead.
Dead.
"Oh Miles, she's gone!" You wail, curling into yourself. "She's gone!"
"I know, (y/n), I know. Come on, let's get you to bed." You sob silently as Miles sadly attempts to lift you up, but instead settles on helping you to your feet. He helps you jump over the broken vodka bottle and you two slowly walk to your bed, you sobbing still and Pudge silent.
"I miss her. I miss her so much. She was like a sister, Pudge. I miss her. I miss her."
"I know you do," Pudge helps you to lay down, grimacing when he saw your shirt. But there was no getting you back up now. "I do to..."