Stockholm Syndrome || Book Two || DISCONTINUED

|| You're Such A Mess ||

I awake due to the tv. I open my eyes slowly to see the show, Friends, playing. I sat up and looked around, hazily. My eyes felt swollen from all the crying I had been doing before hand. I then glanced over at the clock that was in the corner of the room. 1:15 AM, it read. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and sighed. "Fuck me, dude." I groaned. I then got up from the couch and flicked on the lamp that was placed neatly on a bedside table beside the couch. I then grabbed the remote, muting the tv as I made my way into the kitchen, setting the remote down on the kitchen island table.
Grabbing a cup from the cabinet, I make my way over to his fridge and grab some alcohol from it. I pour in some whiskey and took a swig from my cup. What? From the week I've had, I think I deserve it. It didn't taste very good at first, but I got used to it after a second. I poured some more into my cup, setting the bottle back into the fridge. I was about to take another sip, until the sound of the doorknob jiggling caused me to drop the cup, almost giving me a heart attack in the process. I bent over to pick up my cup and I place it on the counter.

Suddenly, the front door opened and in walked Richie. I placed my hand over my heart as I sighed a sigh a relief. "Jesus, fuck, Rich. I almost had a fucking heart attack." I then walk over to him and place my hands on his cheeks.
"Richie, where in god's name have you been? I've been so worried about you-"

"Pfft, yeah right. Y-You didn't seem very happy when I left." I noticed that he was slurring his words a bit. Then I smelt alcohol on his breath. I rolled my eyes. "Richie, are you fucking drunk?" I questioned. He giggled, lying his head in the creek of my neck. "Mmm...maybe?" He then began to wheeze a bit at what he had just said. "You're such a mess." I hiss. I then sigh, "Okay," I began, wrapping my arm around him, "let's get you to bed-"

"Ooooh, that sounds very sexy..." he chuckled. I rolled my eyes and helped him to his bedroom, along with helping him into his bed. He didn't lie down though, instead he sat up and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his head on my stomach. "Mmm, I'm-I'm not tired, baby." He groaned, to which I honestly couldn't help but smile at his drunken state. When Richie gets drunk, he isn't very active and or mean, he's more calm and, sometimes, passive aggressive. But he also gets very affectionate when he's drunk.
"Richie, baby," I began, as he lifted his head up to look at me, "you gotta go to bed, okay." I know what you're probably thinking, why are you being so sweet to him, shouldn't you be mad at him? Well, yeah, of course I'm still pissed off at Richie, but I also can't be mad at him when he's drunk. I dunno, I guess I like it when he acts like this.

"So, will you just go to bed and we can talk in the morning, okay?" I say, running my fingers through his hair. He bit his lip. "Oh, I like when you do that, baby." He said. I giggled. "Oh, you do?" I asked, ushering him to lie down, by pushing him lightly on his back. He nodded. "Mhmm, I-C'mere." He then pulls me on his lap, wrapping his arms around me once more and pulling me into a kiss. I was a bit taken aback from this, but I wasn't too surprised though, as I said, Richie gets really affectionate when he's drunk. I sunk into it for a moment, but I then figured that I shouldn't. I gently pushed him away and smiled, "Richie...you're drunk-"
"Mmm, so?" He muttered, burying his head in my chest. I chuckled lightly, placing both of my hands on his cheeks and lifting his head up. "Richie, I don't wanna take advantage of you like that." I say. He then groans and giggled softly, "I-What did I do to deserve someone like you, Eds?" He asks. I smile, pressing a soft kiss onto his forehead before getting up from his lap. He laid back and I pulled the covers over him. "Mm, are you coming to bed?" He asked. I nodded. "Yeah. Just-Just get some sleep, okay?" He nods, turning over on his side. I smiled, flicking off his lamp, but before leaving the room, I notice something, hanging on a hook beside his bathroom door.

It was a key.

Or, at least, it looked to be a key. I made my way over to it, trying to examine it, but it was too dark to do so. I didn't want to, but I grabbed it from the hook, and made my way out of the room, making sure to be quiet as I did so. I gently closed the door, and made my way down the hallway and into the living room, where I could examine the key further. Since it was brighter out here than in his bedroom, I could confirm that it was, in fact, a key. But the thing is, I recognized the key, but I just couldn't put my finger on where I had seen it before. I shrugged it off and placed the key on the coffee table, making a mental note to figure it out in the morning.
I quickly cleaned up the whiskey I had spilled earlier and I flicked off the living room lamp, lying back down on the couch. I turned off the tv as well, trying to make sure I would fall back asleep...and I did, for a moment, until I quickly sat up as the realization had hit me all at once. I glanced over at the key and then at the locked door.
That wasn't just any ordinary key. No.
That-

That's the playroom key.