Scars

Drinking Again

"Nick? Nick, I know you're home. Your car is out front." I was banging on his front door, the wood rattling beneath my fist. I waited for a moment and put my ear to the door to listen for any sign of inhabitance.

I wasn't clearly sure what I was doing here at 11:04 at night at Nick's apartment. Maybe I wanted to apologize for overreacting. Yes. Apologize. And hear him out. Anything so he'll take Ren back. Anything.

I could hear footsteps from the bedroom now. My heart started to pound in anticipation of what was about to happen. Would he be mad? The footsteps were coming closer to the door. Would he be happy? The doorknob turned and the door swung open.

Nick stood there in front of me with drooping eyes and disheveled hair. His feet were bare and he wore basketball shorts and a tee despite the weather outside. That was when the smell hit me like a moving train. "Brin, I... I'm so glad you're h—here." He swayed slightly.

"Oh God, Nick. How many drinks did you have tonight?" I asked, slightly petrified. Some part of me was screaming at myself to run away. I mean the last time I had seen Nick drunk...

Nick held up five fingers. "Two."

Run already, stupid.

You can't just leave him like this.

Ugh.

I hooked my arm around his and led him to the kitchen, closing, with regret, the door behind me. I dumped him on the couch and headed to the coffee maker. My heart was pounding as I poured water inside, listening to Nick mumble words I couldn't yet make out.

The couch groaned as Nick stood and made his way towards me. I watched him closely, noticing how he was able to walk straight enough. He might not have been that drunk, but that didn't stop my lungs forgetting how to function. "You don't have to do that." He said as the coffee maker squeezed the last it could get out.

I poured some into a mug and handed it to him. "Sober up, kid."

Nick took it reluctantly and took a sip, despite the fact that it was probably burning his throat. "You don't have to... you're so good to me." My heart continued to hammer down the walls of stability inside of me. "I don't deserve you." He took another risky sip from the mug. My walls started to crumble.

I needed to occupy myself, so I pushed around him and went to the bedroom. There were three empty bottles beside his bed, another beside his desk, and an unopened one sitting on his dresser. I quickly grabbed it and went back to the kitchen.

Nick continued to ramble on saying, "I'm sorry. I'm a bad person." I started to pour the beer into the sink, but Nick didn't seem to notice. He was sipping his coffee, rambling to me in a far off state. "...stupid, stupid." Tears sprung to his eyes, but refused to fall. "I'm so stupid."

"It's okay." I told him as I threw the empty bottle into the overflowing trash. "You're not stupid."

"Yes I am!" Nick yelled, causing me to flinch. The walls inside of me were close to crumbling to dust. Nick's knuckles were white as he clutched the mug with such a force that I was afraid he might break it. I cautiously came up to him and pried it from his fingers, throwing the little that was left inside in the sink.

A tear escaped from his eyes and fell down his face, pausing on his lips. He needed sleep, so I hooked my arm in his and brought him to the bedroom. He didn't try and resist as I pulled back the thin sheets and helped him in bed without passing out.

Nick had stopped crying. He sat on the bed, his face level with mine, staring at me with a pained expression. "I better get going. You going to be okay?" I asked him as I stepped back a little.

Nick frowned, "No."

"Do you need something then?" I sighed, hoping to get out of here as soon as I could. Frankly, I was becoming more and more uncomfortable with how he looked at me. I was suddenly afraid he would burst into tears again.

Nick swayed slightly, "Brin...Brin I—I love you. Stay. I'm still in love with you." He leaned in closer, pleading. I backed away quickly, but my bad wrist was caught by his hand, sending a shooting pain down my arm.

"Nick, Nick, stop please." I said as I tried to pull away without further hurting myself. I felt his grip on my hand loosen, but he didn't let go. "Nick, I have to g—" I tried to say before I was cut off.

An arm was quickly thrown around my side and pulled me close to him. The arm on my wrist was released and replaced on the side of my face. I suddenly felt his lips pressing lightly against mine. My head was screaming staccato orders to run away, but something about how, though we were touching, we were barely touching. He seemed to handle me as if I were ancient art in his fingertips.

Before I knew it, I was kissing him back, tasting the alcohol and tears on his trembling lips. And in some odd way, everything was okay.