Breaking Mr. Black

22| Summer Fling

SEAN

Pain!

White, hot pain greeted me when my subconscious finally awoke. My head felt as if a fucking jackhammer had been drilling into it the entire night and my body felt heavy — too fucking heavy to move. For a short moment, I almost regretted drowning myself in half a bottle of vodka just to sleep.

And I hadn't even fallen asleep in my bed.

I reluctantly peeled my eyes open with a deep groan that could pass of as a growl. It took more than five long minutes for me to perch myself upright on the couch, scrubbing a hand down my face to wake me up a little more. I wanted to groan again when I found Miguel sitting on a lazy boy staring at me with a tight smile. We just stared at each other, not knowing what to say to break the silence.

"You slept for most of the day, Hermano," Miguel eyed the bottle on the floor, its contents now staining the carpet. I must have dropped the bottle last night when I fell asleep. He brought his gaze back to me, "You're not handling this very well."

"No fucking shit," I gritted, feeling the stabbing pain at my temple.

"Usually, I'd just let you be," he softened his voice as he uttered his next words almost sympathetically, "but you need to pull yourself together. Do you really want her to wake up to find you like this?"

I hung my head, shaking it as the weight of the situation dawned on me. It was a new day and yet everything felt just as heavy as the day before, "I'm not even sure she wants to see me. Now that Dean's there..." I let the sentence trail.

She had a past with Dean — one that a 'summer fling' wouldn't suddenly erase. I wouldn't blame her if she ran back to him, falling into his opened arms. They always had one another, I was just here to pass the time. She admitted to having feelings for him anyway. Rose always had feelings for Dean and he reciprocated them. I should have stayed away from her as I had initially done all those years ago. This was my fault. I just complicated things for myself.

"You don't know that," Miguel tried to reason, "she might want to see you. There's a strong possibility that she will and if she sees you like this she's going to feel guilty."

I buried my face in my hands, pressing the heels to my eyes until white dots flooded my vision. In all my years of drinking I couldn't remember one night I allowed myself to get this intoxicated, "He's with her right now while I'm here."

"Then you should go be with her," Miguel said as if the solution was that simple.

Then again, he wasn't — possibly — in love with a girl that may or may not still want his twin brother.

When Dean had walked through those hospital doors I felt all my hope instantly deflate. I expected him. The night I told him about Rose he told me he would get the first flight back home. I didn't doubt his words because I knew, deep down, I knew there wasn't a thing he wouldn't do for that girl. And when he walked into the room with her pale body hooked up to all those machines, I saw the pain clear on his face.

He rushed to her side with glassy eyes, caressing her cheek with the softest of touches — something I still wasn't all that good at. And when I took them in I realized how perfect they would be for one another. Yet, whenever they tried to pull me away from her I fought them until they just gave up and let me stay. Dean was easier to persuade, he only visited her during stipulated hours. It was last night that he finally convinced me to come home and sleep. I knew I looked like shit, but to be told to pull myself together by so many people only drove the point home further.

"Why exactly are you doing this to yourself?" Miguel asked after a long beat of silence.

I sighed, blinking my eyes to return my vision before glaring down at my hands — hands that were covered in her blood only days ago. Hissing under my breath, I looked away sharply in a desperate attempt to forget that fucked up memory, "I keep seeing it," I admitted with a shudder in my voice, "I keep fucking seeing it."