Fake Tales *ᴬˡᵉˣ ᵀᵘʳⁿᵉʳ*

The Martini Police

You're leading yourself down a slippery slope, but thankfully the person that matters most in your life notices and helps you.

~*~*~*~*~*~

"What happened?" Alex asks, rushing into the kitchen.

You were sitting at the table, head in hands, heels just being kicked off. But that wasn't what shocked Alex, it was the fact that your tights were all ripped, covered in dried blood, and you had it still trickling down your leg, from your knee which was cut open.

You shake your head and in a pathetic voice, you whisper, "I don't know."

Alex rushes to the sink and immediately wets a cloth so he can help clean you up. He was still in his pyjamas, only coming down the stairs because he heard the front door closing a few minutes ago and it worried him when you weren't in bed beside him.

He knew you'd been on another night out, but he hoped you'd be in bed beside him when he opened his eyes this morning.

As water collects in the material he worriedly asks, "What do you mean 'you don't know'?"

"I can't remember." You say in an exhausted voice, looking up at Alex for a second but you cast your eyes to the ground once more.

You take a few deep breaths before you realise that your mouth has gone dry again. So as Alex comes back over with the wet cloth to try and clean up, you reach for the drink you poured when you came in.

Alex makes his way back over and kneels down in front of you to tend to your injury, but he notices that you half wince at what he thought was the water in your glass. His face falls immediately, and he reaches for the glass you were about to put down, as he asked, "What's that?"

Your eyes go wide as he takes it from you. "Alex, please don-" You start but it's too late.

He already brought the glass up to his nose and the stench of vodka filled his senses immediately.

"Is that vodka? At seven in the morning?" Alex asks you with wide eyes, despite knowing it's a fact.

You watch as he gets up and pours it away, and you just try and defend yourself, "It's helping take the pain away."

"You know what else would do that? A paracetamol. Or an ibuprofen." Alex said distastefully, but it was the shock filtering through his system. "You should not be drinking at this time in the morning."

You murmured a little, "I know, I know." as Alex comes back and starts cleaning up your knee. He ended up just ripping the tights open and pulling that leg off, as you didn't look like you were in a fit state to stand up and take them off yourself.

You don't protest, feeling bad enough that you've obviously upset him by drinking and stumbling home at this time. You'd gone out last night with a few of your older friends that you met when you first moved to London.

You'd been going out with them a lot recently after one of them got back in contact. And most of the time you'd been stumbling back into your home at similar times.

And that wasn't like you at all.

It worried Alex to no extent. Because he'd seen you around these people. You were different around them compared to how you were with your usual group of friends and both of your friends.

And Alex couldn't pretend he didn't see it anymore.

"Y/N..." Alex says softly, drawing your attention to him, as he carries on cleaning up your knee. He says almost hesitantly, "I don't think you should go out with that lot anymore."