| one too many | s. gojo

one; sober up

It became harder to acknowledge your appearance in the mirror with every passing day, for each time you did so, you were disgusted with what you saw. Your hair was greasy and unruly, sticking out in odd places and refusing to be flattened. Your skin was oily and you could feel your pores clogging up with excess sebum and dirt, seeing as you hadn't participated in your daily skin-care routine in days. It wasn't too detailed, but you were able to understand now that it was crucial to the well-being of your skin. (Not too mention that you had made a nasty habit out of picking at your face more these days, spreading the bacteria from your hands to your suffering pores.)

The skin around the piercings on your earlobes were red and raw, a result of you attempting to get rid of the infection that had begun without any proper treatment. You were horrified with yourself, yet you made no effort to finally confront the issue and work towards bettering it.

It had been two long weeks since you had caught your fiancee with another woman in your own home, and despite every room being tainted with the memory of him, you couldn't bring yourself to leave. You didn't want him to destroy your life, and you thought by maintaining pieces of your past, he wouldn't be able to do so - instead, however, he was ruining parts of your future. 

You no longer left the house. You had your groceries delivered which were then left to spoil inside of your pantry or expire in your fridge, because you had no drive to actually cook, instead deciding to order food. Takeout containers littered the house and fast-food wrappers became your new decorations. You couldn't even take out the trash.

Your only human interactions occurred online, when you would reach out to a colleague or a superior to send them files or ask them questions. You hadn't seen your friends ever since the night before the incident, and you didn't even make the effort to text or call them.

You were completely and entirely alone.

Your thoughts weren't very comforting to be surrounded by, so you turned to drinking. Drinking knew you best. It had been there for every up and down, every low and every high; but it only stuck around for so long. You felt yourself needing more alcohol each time, because you couldn't stand being sober enough to function as a regular human-being. You knew you had an addiction. You were physically and psychologically dependent on the buzz drinking brought about. You had even considered turning to drugs more than once. However, you really had no idea where to start, and you weren't willing to try and figure it out.

Essentially, you were miserable.

"Jesus, Y/N, get yourself together..." you murmured to yourself, unable to stand looking at yourself in the mirror any longer.

Trudging out of the bathroom and towards your room was when the worst phase of the hangover hit you. Your half-lidded eyes snapped open, as if you had just woken up, and you glanced around in a panic, unsure of what to do. You weren't yourself. Your home didn't even look like it was yours anymore. An onset of dizziness came about and you leaned against the wall for support, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to block out the ringing in your ears. Colors were flashing underneath your closed eyelids and your head was pounding with the swarm of thoughts that had destroyed the peace created by the feeling of drunkenness.

You groaned in pain as you slid to the floor, and for a moment, you felt everything slip away from your grasp and out of your control. 

And then it was quiet.

Your breathing was unsteady and uneven, and your thoughts were scrambled, unable to be collected. The only thing grounding you was the feeling of the cold, hard wooden floors underneath you and the way they sent a rush of chills up your exposed legs, goosebumps automatically forming.

"You're okay, you're okay... You're okay," you repeated to yourself, in the hopes that you would end up believing it, but for now, everything sounded like radio static.

After a few more minutes of laying in a fetal position on the floor, you finally willed yourself to get up, using the wall to help you balance. You dragged your feet towards your bedroom, fumbling with the knob when you reached it and sighing heavily in relief as the door flung open. You immediately collapsed on your bed, reaching a hand up to your forehead as you took deep breaths to help your body and mind relax.

"What am I doing?" you asked yourself, wishing your headache would subside, but it only persisted in making your physical condition worse.

"I- I'm going to... to die. And no one- no one! Not a single person... will know," you murmured, accepting the reality that you had been hiding from for the past two weeks.

"I've been drinking myself to- to death. Oh my god."

"Jesus Christ, I hate being almost sober."

You abruptly sat up, turning to glance at yourself in the mirror that leaned against the opposite wall, wrinkling your nose in disgust at the sight that greeted you. You had recognized before that you were a mess, but now that the thought had become a sober one, it was entirely different.

You looked around at the state of your room, licking your chapped lips as you did so. It was a disaster. Clothing strewn about, plants neglected, drawers open, bed unmade, food containers and packaging littering the ground... You had been living like a slob for the past two weeks. 

The only thing you could bring yourself to care about, however, was the empty bottle of wine that sat on your nighstand. As the memories of last night slowly came back to you, your face contorted into one of confusion and almost horror. You no longer had any alcohol to rely on.

You had drained every last drop from every last bottle. 

"Shit."

That stash was supposed to last you months. And now it was gone; in the matter of two weeks. You buried your face in your hands as you contemplated what your next move would be. This would surely be a good opportunity to quit drinking. But however much you knew you needed to fight your addiction, it didn't change the fact that you didn't want to. You sighed heavily in exasperation, now caught up in a moral dilemma.

This wasn't a normal situation. Whenever you had a problem, you could fix it with alcohol - but now sobriety was being forced upon you because, while you don't want to quit, you also don't want to go out and buy more because your local grocery stores wouldn't deliver alcohol. You hadn't handled your problems in a healthy manner in two, almost three, weeks and you weren't sure you retained the ability to do so. 

You scooted yourself across the mattress so you could wrap yourself in the comforter and bury your head in the mountain of pillows that sat at the headboard, screaming into them as you curled yourself up into a ball. 

And though you didn't want to admit it, perhaps it was finally time...

to sober up. 

(A/N: WOOOO LOOK AT ME GO ACTUALLY MAKING GOOD ON MY WORD!! okay but seriously i couldn't stand updating the og anymore because of how stiff and unnatural everything felt so now i'm back with a reworked version. i'll probably be changing the storyline around a bit which might mean adding or removing a few characters. this chapter is one that i am not necessarily too proud of but at least i got it done lmao. you can still go ahead and read like the.. seven?? chapters of the og but i won't be updating that one anymore and the story will instead be rewritten and continued here. same concept and everything but just better writing i think maybe. anyways i'm tired asf so i'ma head to bed. night night love you)

-satori <3