End Game

Thirty-Three

"It feels weird being here when Michael isn't." Sierra comments, following Luke through the front door he'd just unlocked.

"I just need the guitar, we aren't breaking in." Luke laughs, frowning as he flips open the alarm panel. "The alarm isn't set, that's weird. Mike is supposed to be in Vegas for another week."

"The dogs are here too." Sierra crouches to scoop Moose into her arms, scratching the pup's head.

"Hello?" Luke calls out, holding a hand in front of Sierra as they step further into the house, both relief and concern flooding him when he sees Michael laid out on the couch, he'd almost be concerned his friend was dead if he weren't snoring audibly.

"He looks like shit." Sierra speaks Luke's thoughts aloud.

"Something isn't right here." Luke agrees, walking carefully around the sofa, frowning as he sees a couple empty vodka bottles on the floor beside Michael. He isn't usually one to drink hard liquor, he prefers seltzers or beer.

"I doubt he's shaved in two weeks, or showered." Sierra wrinkles her nose as she gets closer, setting Moose on the floor before sitting gently beside Michael, rubbing his shoulder softly. "Michael, Michael, can you wake up?"

"Jo?" His breath reeks of the poison the bottles around him no longer contain, his eyes unfocused as they open.

"Luke and Sierra actually." Luke smiles sympathetically down at his friend.

"Fuck." Michael groans, burying the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, turning his body until he can bury his face into the back of the sofa.

"I thought you were supposed to be in Vegas until next Saturday?" Sierra asks softly.

"Never got there." Michael's voice is muffled by the cushion pressed to his face.

"Why not? I thought you weren't giving up on her." Luke frowns.

"I didn't. She did." Michael's voice shatters, "Fuck, more Vodka. I need more Vodka." He turns, pushing himself to a seated position, the room spinning around him.

"No, no more vodka. You've had enough." Luke grabs the empty bottles, setting them on the coffee table and holding a hand to Michael's shoulder to keep him seated.

"What happened?" Sierra asks softly, "I thought she was head over heels for you."

"She's a meany." Michael grumbles, "She wanted to hurt me. Told me she was going to hurt me. And she was right. She's a meany, but at least she's not a liar."

"We aren't going to get a straight answer out of you until your sober are we? How long ago did you two break up?" Luke sighs.

"Yesterday? A year? I don't know." Michael sighs.

"Was it over the phone?" Sierra asks, remembering he'd said he never made it to Vegas.

"No, here. She was here, I was surprised, she broke my heart, she left, I drank."

"Wait, she was here? She surprised you when we got back from tour? Mike, it's been almost two weeks since we got home." Luke drops beside his brother, "Why didn't you call? Text? Anything."

"Couldn't, broke my phone." He shrugs.

"How?"

"Threw it at the door after she left."

"Okay, first step, get you sober and showered. Then we can worry about the phone. I thought you weren't responding to anyone because you were, well, doing something else, and focused on someone else." Luke runs a hand through his curls.