Happiness is for other people.
He is, though. Happy, that is. He's fine, for a certain value of fine. He can make it through the days. He can stand up and fight, win some, lose some. He can avoid drawing his pistol and pointing it right between his arrest's eyes, even though taunting them with fear sometimes does help.
He chews his way through the inside of his cheek when he talks to his wife on the phone, who's still in rehab, rips open the stitches on his hand again and again and again.
He knows. It's fine.
This isn't even the second, third, fourth, fifth worst thing that's ever happened to him.
____________________
"I was getting worried you'd run away or something."
"Where would I run to out here?"
"You sound better. I haven't heard you laugh in too long."
"I am, I think. I made a friend."
____________________
The tequila is telling him it's an absolutely fucking fantastic idea. Not just what's buzzing and burning in his veins, but also what's sloshing around in the bottle. Sarawat looks up from his phone — the screen of which has gone oddly fuzzy — to give the bottle an uncertain 'are you sure?' eyebrow raise. With both eyebrows, so as to convey maximum levels of uncertainty.
The bottle had been a gift, from himself to himself. Sarawat is once again mad at him, for reasons he didn't fully comprehend, and he and Tine aren't talking (still and forever). So, Sarawat had splurged and bought himself some Don Julio loving. At any rate, Sarawat is getting some sweet agave affection tonight, and that is all that matters.
He pours himself another shot and knocks it back.
Why is he even pretending? Why not just drink straight from the bottle?
He's a genius!
Sarawat shakes his head, scrubbing one hand over his face, and picks up his phone. What the fuck ever, right? Blindly scrolling through his call log, he pushes on what he hopes is the right name and brings his phone to his ear.
"What do you want?" Tine's voice is sharp, but he doesn't immediately hang up, so Sarawat counts it as a win.
"It was Tequila's idea." Sarawat blurts out, automatically capitalising the 't'. There's silence on the other end and he bites down hard on his lower lip.
"Is that a drag queen or something?" Tine sounds tired, but amused. Another win for Team Sarawat for Tequila.
"What? No! The alcohol." Sarawat shoots a glare at the bottle sitting on his coffee table.
'See?' His glare is saying, 'I knew this was a bad idea!'
"Fuck," Sarawat sighs out loud. "Just. Fuck."
"Sarawat. What do you want now?" Tine enunciates each word clearly, as if he can bury the worry in his voice behind sharp-edged articulation.
"I don't know," he moans, flopping back against the couch cushions. "You. Maybe. I don't know." Tine is silent, but he still hasn't hung up, and Tequila is silently encouraging, so he keeps going. "I'm really messed up."
"I noticed," Tine says, not unkindly. "Look, Sarawat, just sleep it off. You'll be fine. Okay? Your wife will be home soon."
He's trying to give him a way out, Sarawat realises.
YOU ARE READING
Don't Leave Me
Fanfiction"I missed you. When you were gone I felt like dying. I couldn't smile. Couldn't live happily. I became the most miserable person in the world. I couldn't love anyone like I loved you. If people talked to me about fate, I'd laugh in their face. That...
