Laughter [Garrett Watts x OFC]

[Straight Out of 90s Seattle]

I wanted to say that I was strong and picked myself back up after falling apart, but that would've been a huge lie. After Garrett left, I fell into a pool of self-pity. I knew what I should do. I should've called my therapist and put my mind to something productive, but I pushed that aside and did what made me feel better in the moment; I drank.

I gave up trying to put my furniture together and just set up my tv so I could lay on the couch and watch nonsense as I drank my whiskey and felt sorry for myself. I figured I'd let myself feel my feelings for a day or so and then get my shit together, but a day turned into two which turned into three. Andrew tried texting and calling me, but I ignored them all, not feeling like talking about what had happened with Garrett.

I had just turned on The Holiday and was already crying as I drank my whiskey/moscato monstrosity that I'd mixed together when I heard a knock on my door. I ignored it, hoping the person would give up and go away. That didn't happen, though, and the knocking just got more and more persistent. I sighed, got up from the couch, and stumbled to the door.

"What," I asked as I unlocked and opened it.

"Jesus Christ, you look like shit," Andrew said as he pushed passed me and entered my house. He had a few grocery bags with him.

"Nice to see you, too," I sniffed before hiccuping. I hadn't showered or did my hair since before Garrett had come over.

"I brought some stuff to make you dinner. I figured you weren't cooking for yourself right now," he said from the kitchen. Even wasted, I knew I was lucky to have Andrew as a friend.

"Thanks," I told him, hiccuping again. I really was a stereotypical drunk.

Andrew emptied the bags he'd brought and searched my cabinets for what he'd need to cook. My kitchen thankfully wasn't too messy, as I'd ordered food over the last three days instead of attempting to make anything. The only mess was the pile of empty bottles I'd set on the counter. Andrew got out a trash bag as the oven preheated and threw all of the bottles away.

"Where's the rest," he asked.

"Huh?"

"The rest of your alcohol? I'm getting rid of it. You've gotta sober up and get your shit together," he said without holding back.

"Someone's grumpy," I joked.

"I'm not grumpy, Elle. I'm worried. You're not doing well. Have you been taking your meds?"

"I forgot," I answered honestly, looking anywhere but him.

"Show me where you keep them and then give me the rest of your alcohol."

Andrew got me a glass of water and followed me to the bathroom so he could make sure I actually took my medication. I swallowed my pills and showed him that my mouth was empty. When he was satisfied, we gathered up my remaining alcohol and he dumped it down the drain. I wanted to protest, but part of me was glad for his intervention.

"I'm sorry," I told him as I watched him cut up some chicken for whatever he was making.

"You don't need to apologize. I know you're having a hard time. I just don't want you to end up getting yourself into trouble."

"I appreciate you." We stood in silence as Andrew cooked and I watched. I had to lean against the wall to maintain an upright position. "Has he asked about me," I eventually asked, not able to hold it in.

"I haven't talked to him in a couple of days. He called me after leaving here the other day and we talked then, but he's been M.I.A since."

"Then why did you come here to check on me instead of him?" Andrew was way closer to Garrett than he was to me.