Break Bad

Cut loose from the noose.

June 18th, 8:40Am.

Keith opened the door to his apartment, and sat the small bag with Advil down on the kitchen counter. The dimly lit room and grey walls almost devoid of color. So he walked to the far end of the living room and opened the curtain, letting in the mid day light.

"Lance, where are you?" Keith asked into the quiet apartment. He heard a groan from the bathroom, the door cracked open. Keith didn't bother knocking, he knew what was happening.

Lance was knelt over the toilet, heaving and groaning, but nothing coming out. His shirt was stained with puke. Keith quickly walked out, and came back a minute later with a wet cloth, and glass of water. He patted Lance on the back, and wiped his face clean with the towel, as the man drank the water greedily.

"Slowly Lance, drink it slowly."
Keith advised. Lance groaned, and took smaller drinks of the water, still taking large gulps whenever Keith looked away.

After a few minutes, Keith led Lance out into the kitchen, and sat him down at the dining room table. He slid Lance's shirt off, and the man was still too distracted by the headache to stop or question him. Keith gave him some of the Advil, and a piece of toast, then brought out a pair of his own boxers, shorts, and a shirt, handing them to Lance.

"Here, change into these, I'll wash your clothes."
Lance just nodded, and took the clothes. Changing in the middle of the Kitchen. Keith distracted his gaze by getting another glass of water, and making more toast.

He put Lance's clothes in the washer, and came back to the man laying on his couch. One arm covering both his eyes.
Keith's shorts rode high up on Lance's thighs, and Keith's shirt left the bottom of Lance's stomach exposed like a crop top.
To Keith, it was both alluring and silly looking.

"How do you feel?"
Keith asked, kneeling down by his head, and speaking softly.

"Shit...like...shit." Lance mumbled, not moving.

Keith hummed in response. Careful not to be too loud. "Yeah, everything comes with a price."

"I don't.... think I want to go to the bar... again."

"Got it out of your system?"
Keith asked.

"Yep."

"Regret it?"

Lance hesitated.
"Uh....not all of it."

Keith chuckled.
"Yeah, there were some fun parts."

_____________________________________________
June 18th, 9:11AM.

"Fuck, is my phone still at the parlour?"
Lance asked, looking around the apartment.

"Probably. I wasn't fit to drive, so we took a cab. And I couldn't remember the address of the parlour or your place, so we came straight here."

"Well, aren't you a responsible wino."

"Wino?"

"Drunk. A responsible drunk."

"Honesly-" Keith began, standing up from the couch, and stretching his arms.
"-I don't drink often. Don't like spending my money on it."

"Oh yeah?" Lance asked, grabbing the man's wrist, and pulling him to flop back down beside him on the couch.
"Then what was the special occasion?"

He rested his head on Keith's shoulder.
"You were." Keith said simply, unsure how to react to the affectionate gesture. So he simply sat still.

"Such a sweetheart." Lance mumbled, as he felt himself already falling back asleep.