Rock Bottom (Sequel to How it Happened is Irrelevant)

8

*Flashback to said warm evening in September*

"Cheers," TJ said, clinking his wine glass against mine. He'd taken me out to a roof with million dollar views on the last day before tour. Since it was nighttime, dim yellow lights surrounded us overhead, so well done I wondered if he'd had help. Sometimes he did this, taking me out on ultra-romantic dates. I enjoyed them the most since they happened rarely, and had so much thought and effort put into them. 

But I'm personally under the impression that the only reason he likes them so much is because they always end with sex.

I sighed happily as we each took a small sip of our drinks. "I wish we could be alone like this more often."

TJ smiled. "Me too. But I think we wouldn't appreciate it as much if it happened too often."

"You're probably right." I twirled my fork in my fingers. "We'd probably get sick of each other."

"That's the best kind of sick that you can get." He took my hand in his and squeezed it. 

"Lovesick is better."

He took another sip. "What's the difference? If you're sick of someone you're in love with, it's a form of lovesick, isn't it?"

"I guess I can't dispute that point."

"'Dispute that point?'"

"Might I remind you of the time you said, and I quote, 'I thought that was only applicable for ladies.'"

"Thrash said decorum."

"He reads."

TJ rolled his eyes and let go of me, starting to eat the dinner he'd probably spent an hour preparing. He made a face and spit it out immediately. Revolted, I shot out of my chair. He drank another long sip of wine before making another face. "Well that's about the worst thing I've ever tasted," He noted.

"It can't be that bad," I assured him. His cooking wasn't Gordon Ramsey worthy, but it wasn't terrible either. 

"It can be." When I went to try it and tell him he was wrong, he stopped me. "Don't do it!"

I tried anyways, finding that he was right. It was about the worst food I'd ever tasted. It was terribly dry, overcooked, and very, very, very over seasoned. "Christ that's bad," I whispered.

"I told you so." He crossed his arms, disappointed in himself. 

"It's okay."

"Don't say that it's the thought that counts!" He snapped, storming away. I wasn't sure if he was frustrated with me or with himself. 

"Come back!" I called. "The wine's still good and the views are still amazing and the lights haven't burned out yet!" I started to follow him. "Wait!" Little did I know, he'd really left me high and dry. I searched for hours, but couldn't find him anywhere. He wasn't answering his cell. It was midnight now, so I couldn't keep this up. 

I tried to call him one more time. "Pick up the phone. Pick up the phone," I whispered desperately to myself. 

"Eh-?" Was the response I got when someone finally picked up.

"What the fuck?! Where the hell are you?!" I demanded. 

"Who is this?" TJ asked. He sounded genuinely confused. 

"It's Craig, you idiot. Are you drunk? Where are you?"

"I don't know," He answered. I heard the phone fall from his hand and then a series of other sounds I'd rather not describe. "Please help," I heard. His voice sounded really strange. 

When I finally found him, I could confirm that the sounds I'd heard was his puking, and I could confirm that he'd gotten really drunk. "This is getting out of hand," I told him. I didn't want to touch him though, he looked gross. 

His eyes opened. "You're back!" He raised a wobbly fist into the air. For the first time, I saw what he really was. An alcoholic covered in his own vomit, too drunk to even know he was in a hotel room. 

"Why did you run away?"

"I'm a wooser. Wooser. Wooser." He burst into a fit of giggles over his lack of ability to speak clearly.

"Get up," I told him, pulling on his arm. 

"Where are ya takin me?" He asked. 

"To the bathtub where you can pass out in the water, at least a little cleaner."

I've never been able to see him the same way since. That was the last day I ever truly loved TJ.