LUVIE [fin. / unedited]

t w e n t y - n i n e

A/N: Another update! Yay! This chapter was a bit more difficult to write than I expected, even though I've looked forward to writing it. That sounds really bad, once you read it...

w i l l i a m

I sat against the curb, my legs hands against my legs. My head was bent down in shame resting on my forearms. I hear drunken laughter from behind me, and I look in that direction noticing a red and blue open sign flashing.

I walk in that direction, I open the door waltzing inside. My eyes meeting an empty barstool. I haven't gotten drunk since the party, and that was months ago. Before that, I only did it when I was on leave, so I rewarded myself with a few drinks. A little wouldn't hurt, right?

I was on my fourth bottle of beer, now cooling off in a corner away from everyone else, and their prying eyes. I tipped my glass back again and took the last few gulps. The bartender looked over at me, and I raised my glass at her. She looked at me and nodded, coming over a few minutes later with another bottle.

I knew not to talk to them because that's one of the ways they can tell your drunk, by the way your speech slurs and you swaying when you stand up. There's probably more, but those are the ones I could think of at the moment. So I said nothing and didn't move from my seat. I only took the bottle and tipped it back, the first quarter disappearing in an instant.

The memory of me almost hitting Luvie comes to the surface, and I down it quicker. I knew that I could never do that to her, it would be unfair to me and her. I look at my phone, it reads seven forty-six.

I knew I would have to go home at midnight, or sometime soon. Yet I cannot erase the memory of me almost assaulting my girlfriend. I opened my jacket and pulled out a black velvet box. I play with it, opening the case then closing it. The box was making a satisfying snapping sound when I closed it. I placed it back in my pocket, deciding to get something stronger.

I look at the bartender, "The strongest thing you have," she looks at me, with a raised eyebrow. I glare at her, rolling her eyes, she turns away then passes back to me a clear and potent alcohol. I nod, and walk towards my booth, seeing it overtaken by a group of girls. I look for a new place, finding the corner much more appealing than the group of girls. I stumble over there. Sitting back down, I notice the group of girls looking at me. I do nothing, tilting my head back and knocking back the rest of my drink.

Hours later, I was leaning over the pole table, trying to make a shot. My alcohol level was a lot higher than when I first walked in here. "Two to zero," I tell my opponent with a grin, after making in the black eight balls. "This game literally makes no sense!" Chad's, I think that's his name, girlfriend complained, "Why is the eight balls solid?" I rolled my eyes at her, "Dude, I beg you, get her to shut up." It would've been different if I wasn't drunk, her voice wasn't annoying high pitched, and she had not been complaining for the last hour or so.

"What'd you say?" Chad glared at me, I only rolled my eyes. "This is annoying. She sounds like a dying animal, and I'm asking you to put us all out of misery. No one likes to hear an animal die, and she sounds like one." I walk up to him and pat his chest, as he glares at me. "You're just salty because I beat you in pool," I start walking away, I grin and lift up his wallet in the air, "And I stole your wallet." Chad was an overweight, abusive, balding old man. I suspect he's abusive, with the way the girl's bruises littered her arms.

I hear footsteps following me, I sit the wallet on the counter. I saw at least five hundred dollars in there. This greasy old man could barely make fifty, let alone five hundred. "Next round on Chad!" I yell in the air, bodies cram by the bar. I hand the lady the wallet, and she shakes her head.

I walk back to my table and continue to suffocate my sorrows with what I think is vodka, but one can never be too sure. I think over everything, reeling in just how terrible I was to Luvie.  I play with the ring box in my hands. 

"What's a man like you doing in here alone?" A woman asks me. She sits next to me, her fingers trailing up and down my arm. I internally cringe at her movements. She moves her face closer to me. She either cannot see the ring that I'm holding or she ignores it. Either way, I'm too drunk to care and to kiss her, or I've given up.

She continues to talk but I ignore her. Nodding here and there, agreeing when she calls for it. She continues to talk about something, her red clawed fingernails going down her arm and to my hand. Playing with my fingers before she interlacing them, just for a small moment. I look at the box for a moment. 

"Is she really worth all of this agony?" The women ask. I don't respond. Her lips attach to my neck as she places a small kiss there. Her hand going down to my thigh. I look over at her, and she attaches her cold lips to mine. I drop the ring box from my hands, my hands moving towards her and landing on her shoulders. 

A/N 1: Forgive the terribleness of the writing in this chapter, writers block absolutely sucks!! 

A/N 2: Don't hate me! *tries to hide behind a pole* (look at cat at the start of the story! if there is nothing there let me know!!) I have cookies! Yummy ones! Just wait it gets better!! Promise.