Born Wrong

10. a boy who tries to be there (and gets drunk)

Bright Seo

When I came over to Rihaan's apartment, I knew it was more for him than it was for me.

It wasn't entirely altruistic. I'm not that type of person. I just knew I didn't want to be home and I didn't want to be alone. I contemplated going to The Strip to find one of the bars that serves minors or enter into one of the car meets for a chase but Rihaan texted me in the exact moment, inviting me to his apartment. He was home, he wanted to drink, and he didn't want to be alone.

Who was I to deny my best friend?

When I drove over, it was well within selfish intent—free alcohol, being in the presence of a comforting person, and no need for explanations or conversations. That's the relationship Rihaan and I share, and I cherish it because I never feel the need to hide myself with him.

But the moment he opened the door, it changed. Rihaan appeared before me at least two drinks in, buzzed enough to wrap me into a hug when he knows I don't do physical contact. He gestured to the two packs of beer, a couple of heavy liquors, and some mixers sitting on the kitchen peninsula, enough to completely be blackout drunk by the end of the night.

I thought I was going to be here for some drinks, but I think I'm going to be here for my best friend.

I was okay with that.

I clamp a hand on his shoulder, pulling my brows together and studying him closely. "You good?" I ask, eyes shifting to watch his reaction. He nods once, taking a long sip from his beer and rolling his shoulders to remove my touch off of his.

"Never been better."

I don't answer because I can tell he's lying. Whenever Rihaan wants to drink, he often buys a pack and we go through a couple of rounds. Nothing more. It was enough to be drunk, enough to spill some secrets, enough for a day. Today was different. He wanted to push himself over the edge.

"Just drink. You can't turn down free alcohol." He gestures out to the spread of bottles on the counter, taking a beer from the pack and pushing it into my hands. I take it with some hesitation, contemplating whether I want to get drunk and forget my worries or be there for my best friend. But, as I glanced up to Rihaan's expectant gaze, I made a small compromise. I'll drink—I need it—but I'll hold out. I usually have a higher tolerance than him and I can meet his expectations.

For the next couple of hours, that's exactly what I did. I held true to my promise, drinking heavily—but with more restraint than usual. Rihaan and I found ourselves in a silent rhythm and it was a navigation between beer bottles and straight shots. I was drinking slower than usual, to pace myself, but Rihaan was downing one after another. I knew, in some part of me, that this was his way of avoiding his problems, and I also knew that if there's going to be a fucked-up person in this relationship, it was going to be me.

Despite it, we didn't talk. It was a comforting silence, which I always appreciate about being friends with Rihaan. I'm never expected to talk, explain my feelings, or expose myself beyond my boundaries. Though, there's been occasions where those lines are blurred and it mainly falls down to our dynamic. Rihaan is a brother to me, and sometimes as a brother, he oversteps my boundaries to do what he thinks is best for me. It's aggravating and frustrating, but he means well.

By the time midnight rolled around, Rihaan was meeting his limit. I could tell by the way he's slowing down and laying back, but it doesn't stop him from holding the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels in his arms, awaiting the next available sip.

It wasn't like I was any better. I was definitely drunk, enough liquor in my system to feel the familiar buzz of haziness and ease, but it was less intense. Given this amount of free alcohol, I would be maxing my limit, trying to push myself over, attempting to cheat death. It was strange being on the opposing end, inducing alcohol at a moderate-level.