I Want to Die in New Orleans // $uicideboys

37: CLYDE

    The morning sun casted a soft glow through the curtains, bathing Scott's room in a warm, golden light. As consciousness gradually seeped its way into my mind, I found myself tangled in a web of confusion. Fragments of the night played out in my head like some sort of dream, not seeming to be able to piece a bit of it together.
    With a heavy sigh I pushed myself upright as the blankets fell off of me. I tried to shake off the remnants of sleep as I rubbed my eyes. As I stumbled out of bed an unfamiliar numbness settled at the pit of my stomach. My mind battled between reality and the hallucinations i casted upon myself, unsure which side of the war would win this matter over.
    I ended up pushing these doubts aside that would most likely consume me if I dwelled hard enough. Stepping into the kitchen I found Ruby sitting at the table, nursing a cup in his hands.
   "Morning," I greeted him, my voice rough with sleep. It felt as though it was the first time I'd ever told him that, as if me and him hadn't been bullshitting together for the past few years.
    "Morning," He replied.
    As our eyes met, it was almost as if we passed a silent understanding between each other, a shared acknowledgment of the strange night before. Though the reason in his mind for things being odd, would not line up with mine.
    I hadn't seen Scott for quite some time that day but it wasn't something that crossed my mind. For the first time I decided to actually cook breakfast instead of rotting half of the day away.
    "Irish coffee?" Ruby questioned as he raised his cup to meet his smile.
    "Day drinking? Say less," I laughed, "Bacon?"
    "I was hoping you'd ask" He snickered.
    I set to work, the sizzling bacon popping at me from inside the pan, bathing in the aromas of coffee and a comforting breakfast that filled the kitchen. Ruby poured some coffee into a cup, adding a bit of whiskey to it as he placed it by me. He sat at the island as he kept me company, awaiting his meal I suppose. I flipped the bacon over and reached for the mug as I faced Ruby, taking a sip. He met my gaze, hiding the faint smile plastered on his lips with the mug. He mirrored my actions but instead took a gulp.
    "You seem chirpy this morning, there some album or occasion I don't know about?" I remarked as I turned back to tend to the bacon.
    "Jus different to see you up and about, everyone's either MIA, slumpt, or working.. and yesterday was..a lot." He replied.
    I nodded, not wanting to delve into the details of last night's atrocities. Instead I tried to focus on breakfast, the task grounding me.
    Just as I was plating the bacon the front door quietly creaked open, I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't heard Ruby turn around in the chair. My stomach fell, collecting myself before i'd turn around to see what was before me. Scott had stumbled in, his appearance disheveled, his clothes wrinkled, and he looked rather dirty.
    "Morning," He greeted nonchalantly with a forced smile.
    "Morning," Ruby and I replied in unison, though his tone was of worry and mine bitter. I turned to put the pan in the sink, feeling the presence of a conversation going on secretly between the two.
    Scrim made a beeline to the bathroom shortly after with no explanation. Ruby and I exchanged a glance, silently communicating, "what the fuck did he go do."
    Ruby and I watched TV as we ate bacon and toast, I had downed three cups of Irish coffee by the time Scrim emerged from whichever room he had been in.
    He looked slightly composed, grabbing coffee and joining us in the living room, though he avoided eye contact.
    "Whatcha went do?" I questioned him bluntly.
    "Jus ran out of cigs shawty," He said with shifty eyes. Each word a lie, reflected out of my brain.
    "Uh huh,"
    "Speakin on that, ima go smoke one," Scott said, excusing himself from the room.
    "Ay cuz i'm comin steal one," Ruby grinned as he followed him, making one last glance at me before heading out the door. His eyes read guilty all over them as well, though my stomach knotted at the thought of what.
    Their hushed voices reached me through the living room window, but there were no words to be made out. My anxiety grew, unable to resist the urge to find out what was going on.
    I moved closer to the window, straining to hear the conversation, yet only hearing the emotion. My heart raced with a mix of dread and concern. Scott's recent behaviors and Ruby's guilty expression was painting a picture I knew all too well. Was this an ongoing situation that I too doped up before to see?
    I scrambled to the kitchen to grab a cup, placing it on the wall for muffled words to reach my ear. My anxiety deepened due to the gut feeling something sinister would unfold.
    Scott's voice rose with more aggression as Ruby tried to keep the pressure down. Remorse and disappointment cracked through his rage.
    It's lovely how the brain works, really.  Because during that whole conversation, out of anything I could pick up, the one that could trigger me the most is the only one I heard. And that one word, spoke a thousand words, and strikes a million, fucking, nerves. I instantly began shaking, my veins burned and my head felt like it was fuming. I stood up, shoving the cup back into the cabinet and tried to plop myself still on the couch, though my leg shook consistently.
    The door clicked a few moments later that felt like forever, my adrenaline only climbing. I watched Scott and Ruby walk in, their nonchalant demeanor and small talk infuriated me. Anger boiled inside of me, a seething rage that threatened to consume any and all reason.
    "I thought your bacon would be gone by now!" Ruby tried to pick.
    "You fucking kidding me!" I spat, unable to contain my frustration any longer, "So yall goin walk in here like nothings wrong? With y'all little private meeting bullshit."
    Scott's eyes widened in surprise, while Ruby shifted uncomfortably under my glare. Their silence and attempt to portray innocence only fueled my anger more.
    "Please, do not play fuckin dumb, cause obviously i was wrong when I calling you burnt," I rambled staring manically at Scott, "You running shit all around me.."
    My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms. The betrayal cut deep, twisting like a knife in my gut, though my nails were cutting deeper.
    The room stood still as Scrim did his usual head scratch when he was on a mission to finesse his words right out of himself. Though the last thing i'd ever had thought to hear from him would be, "You gotta go for a lil while.."