Sighs and Fire (Phan AU) (INCOMPLETE)

(1.11)

When I was growing up, I was taught that the medicine to life's problems was alcohol.

When I watched my mother get drunk until she was sick in a sink (or sometimes the kitchen floor) on a nightly basis, I'd study her going through two (or sometimes three) bottles of wine wherever its percentage was a teenager.

Meanwhile, I was a child who was never a fan of going around other people's houses and so, in result, never seeing other parents which led me to believe that my mother's - dare I say it - addiction with the liquid was perfectly normal, and so I never spoke about it to anyone which didn't give them the chance to tell me it was considered unhealthy.

So perhaps it wasn't such a surprise that when I started going to house parties and was introduced to drinking alcohol, I was drinking faster and twice as much as anyone else. After all, my limited experience only stretched to me observing someone who I didn't know at the time, was alcohol-dependant.

On those Saturday nights, I believed the higher the percentage, the quicker it would wash all my pain away. Some truth lay beneath this. But, there was a price.

The price was feeling a burning sensation at the back of my throat and an unpleasant, hot sensation in my stomach. It was a painful reminder of all the things I wanted to ignore and they would all spring up in thoughts but the more I drank, they would slowly dissolve and blot themselves out, taking my common sense and dignity with them.

These memories of drinking heavily - either alone or with people I believed to be my friends - and what caused me to start it all is enough to make me feel slightly nervous when I watch present day Phil take a bottle of red wine out of the cupboard.

"Now, I know you're not exactly old enough in the law's eyes but-" Phil turns back to me and grins cheekily.

"It's fine, I've had plenty of experience. Red wine doesn't agree with me too much, though."

Clearly my mouth and brain aren't communicating with each other because I'm not sure who's more shocked about what just slipped out of my mouth. I'm so shocked with myself that I can't really speak and it reaches a point where the expression on my face shows I didn't mean to say that, but it's too late to chase it up with a funny story or something to pass it off as a joke.

Phil raises his eyebrows at this but much to my relief, he doesn't press on the matter and pours two goblets of the wine instead and passes one to me.

It's Phil, I have to remind myself. I'm safe.

I feel Phil's questioning eyes on me like he's waiting for me to break down and cry and admit something and I can feel myself getting stressed. The last thing I want to do is explain my troubled years and scare him away, so I take a quick gulp and avoid his eyes.

I feel my muscles relax and then there's a voice at the back of my head that I haven't heard in a while:

Drink, drink it all away.

-

I think I'm drunk. My head feels heavy and keeps drooping so I'm now leaning it on Phil's shoulder. I'm tired. So so tired. I can't taste the wine anymore, but I'm drinking it anyway and it leaves a sour after-taste.

"This movie sucks," I complain and laugh when I see Phil's eyes are wide with interest and doesn't bat an eyelid at what I've said.

"It's brilliant," he says in defensive and we go quiet again. I stop watching the film and turn my body towards Phil so I can see him better. I observe him and I don't think he's noticed that I've turned my full attention onto him, since he's still so absorbed in what he's watching.