❀𝑃𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝐴𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ❀

𝟏|𝐃𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐥𝐬

🍺💊

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

What the fuck is that fucking noise.

Why so fucking early?

Tired, sleepy eyes blinked in exhaustion. Eyes roamed around the pitch-black room to land on empty beer bottles on a nearby nightstand.

Fuck I don't remember that,

An almost empty bottle of pills was seen next, the bottle tipped over with white capsules flowing out.

fuck I don't remember that either.

Y/N Y/L/N stretched his limbs feeling the satisfying pop following after. The loud blaring of his alarm interrupted him, the horrible feeling of his mind throbbing made him wince.

Huh. He forgot last night. Was it the beer bottles or the pills? He can't remember.

It was 4:03, the alarm read. He scoffed to himself, a smile creeping onto his face. A little note was left right next to he alarm.

'Hope you slept well, Sleeping Beauty. I set the alarm even earlier because I know your fat ass would ignore it. Oh, and there aren't any pain pills. You fucking gulped all of them last night.

Fuck you,
      Past Y/N :)

P.S, you have an extremely important meeting soon. Don't fucking forget.'

Getting up he left his bed a mess. He's going to use it later, why make it?

Putting on his infamous suit he dusted off of smoke ash. He needs to go to a dry cleaner soon. Eh, it can wait another week. It's not that dirty.

Going to the bathroom he sees it's also a mess, just like all of the other rooms. Except of bottles it's razor blades and bandages.

He kicks away a lone beer bottle so he can crouch down to find what he needs. Standing up he has a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a tooth brush.

Which one, which one...

I don't need to brush my teeth anyways. I did that yesterday.

Taking a swig of the alcohol he then washes it away with some mouth wash, giving him a burning feeling in his mouth even more. He's handled worse.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. God, it was so annoying.

Such a pathetic man was staring right back at him. He wanted to punch the mirror so fucking bad.

He may seem like a cold stand-offish man, but it just hides what's within.

A sad man.

A sad, depressed man.

A sad, depressed, addict man.

He can't stand his reflection. It tells the truth. All those secrets, his reflection is an open book of all those secrets.

Who wants to tell the truth when we can lie?

When we can lie about whoever we want to be?

He's basically a walking lie.

Thank the gods for lies.

A phone ringing in the other room silenced his inner monologue of the day. Right. He has a meeting with Dictator Dickhead. Yippie.

He touches the stubble on his face. It would grow into a beard soon. Didn't he just shave? A week ago? Or was it a month ago?

Oh dear, his dark under eye circles were practically ovals. People don't like looking at an ugly person. He needs to be... decent looking. Decent enough for a meeting.

What did Marylin say again? Concealer or foundation first?

Fuck it, he slaps on some powder that has the same color as his skin tone and walks off.

He needs those papers.. where were they again? We're they on the table or his bed?

The pounding in his head didn't get better even after 20 minutes. Maybe he'll stop by the connivence store before work.

Shit. Looking down at his bare feet he sees one half the paper he was looking for under his foot while the other teared part was on the other side of the room. He didn't notice he tore the papers. It was by accident. He promises.

What time is it? 4:36? Wow, time flies. He needs to start driving soon. He can't be late for another meeting. Even Dickhead was panicked when he told him the news. Usually he's just yelling. Abrasive. Loud.

So fucking loud.

Wait. When did he open the door?

I swear to fucking everything almighty if they're here....

And they were.

A perfectly placed bouquet of daffodils rested on his door step.

He groaned, picked them up, and threw them in the trash right next to his door. An emergency trash can, of sorts. For coming home at 2 am from late night drinking and for this very instance.

Fucking flowers.

He hated flowers.

He didn't even noticed he got his shoes on and his briefcase, his inner rage brewing up inside him had him absent minded. Were the papers still inside, on the floor? Nope, crunched in his hand.

God, New York does not help with hangovers at all.

He flags down a taxi and gets in.

"Where ya goin'?" A gruff voiced asked, the driver. He was looking at Y/N through the mirror.

"The closest connivence store. I have to stop there for a second. Could you wait then drive me to another destination?" He rasped, looking around at the disgusting stains of the inside of the car.

"Look buddy, I don't care who your daddy is and what he does, and I sure as hell don't care for a fucking drunk. You pay me for where you have to go and I ain't gonna wait and play babysitter. Throw up in my car and I charge you for cleaning."

Y/N narrowed his eyes at the man. He could feel his headache getting even worse. "Look man, I don't fucking care why you got a stick up your ass. Maybe it's cuz you didn't get your breakfast booze or maybe you're mad cuz you caught wifey playing with herself moaning a different man's name. Just take me to closest fucking connivence store, wait for a goddamn minute, and drop me off at the Empire State Building. I'll pay you an extra hundred, deal?"

He could see the man's face getting redder and redder and he talked, his knuckles becoming white from gripping the steering wheel so much. Although, the sound of extra money put him at ease.

"Fine. Vomit and it's another $200."

"Fine by me," Y/N peered through the window seeing his tiny apartment complex getting smaller and smaller. Did he lock the door? Who cares, he doesn't even have anything valuable.

Maybe a small nap will help his head.

However, those damn daffodils wouldn't leave his mind. Damnit.

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

WOOO SECOND BOOK LETS GO

hahaha goodnight <333