𝕊𝕒𝕕 𝕤𝕠𝕝𝕓𝕪 𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕙𝕠𝕥𝕤 ♡

The other woman pt.2

Colby decides to stay home today.

He knows today he's supposed to be filming with Sam for there duo channel but nothing in his mind could convince him to get out of bed. Colby didn't like to be seen as weak, to feel weak, to be weak, but today he just. . . couldn't. He didn't care if anyone was worried about him. If he was letting Sam down by not showing up. He needed time. Time away from everything, from everyone. He couldn't handle seeing Sam right now, especially after last night.

Colbys eyes start to sting. He doesn't bother to stop himself from crying, instead he lets himself tremble and quake with each small sob he lets escape from his mouth. Colby collapses back into his bed, rolling up in the comforter and laying on his side. Burying his face in his pillow, he allows his tears to soak it for the millionth time.

By the time he's done crying, the sun is in a different spot in the sky. Colby groans, rubbing his eyes and kicking the comforter off his body. He spreads his body out like a starfish and stares unblinkingly up at the ceiling, feeling hollow. He starts to wonder when he'll feel something again. Maybe tomorrow, or the next week, or next month, or next year, or never.

Colby finds that he doesn't care.

But, out of curiosity, he balls his hands into fist. Feeling his nails dig deep into the skin until it starts to cave. It burns. Stings. Aches. 

But it does not hurt.

Colby huffs out a labored breath and peels his nails from his hand. The faint feeling of something wet rolling down his palm doesn't bother him. Colby doesn't move for a while.

When he does move, the sun had moved again.

Colby drags himself out of bed and stumbles towards the door. His stomach is growling with hunger, but he does nothing about it. His palm now is starting to hurt, but he doesn't do anything about it. Colby wanders to the kitchen, not to get food, but to get a bottle of wine.

He removes the seal with his thumb and tilts his head back, the cold tip of the glass bottle pressed to his mouth, the rich flavor of alcohol flowing down his throat and soothing the buzz under his skin and the aching of his head.

Colby hums in appreciation, licking his lips. His eyes flutter closed and he leans against the cabinets, holding the wine bottle by its neck. He lets his hand drop to his side carefully, allowing the sloshing of wine to calm him. Eyes still shut, he brings the bottle of wine back to his lips and drowns a quarter of it.

The wine slides down his sore throat and settles in his stomach, filling him up and making him feel lighter. His head feeling clearer, he walks over to the couch, wine still in hand, and plops down on the cushions, mindful of the alcohol in grasp. Sipping another gulp of wine, Colby lazily reaches for the TV remote and clicks the TV on. The TV blares to life, filling Colby's cold, empty apartment with noise. He lets the soft purr of the TV lull him into an intoxicated form of relaxation.

Colby spares a laugh or two at what the TV says every now and then, tilting his head back to let the sweet taste of wine coat his mouth.

He sighs in relief when the feeling of emptiness leaves him as he drowns the bottle of wine. The sun shines through the living room curtains and reflects off the glass of the bottle, creating a pretty beam of red colors. Colby blinks, mesmerized by the beauty of it, sagging back into the soft cushions of his lumpy couch while being careful not to move, not wanting to disrupt the magic.

Colby gives a small, experimental shake of the wine, and he's not disappointed. The light beams move gracefully and leave Colby suddenly breathless. Delighted, Colby quickly raises the bottle to his lips and takes a large sip before letting his hand fall again, positioning the bottle exactly where it was when the sunlight hit it. He blinks, confused. Why wasn't it working?