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Mon, May 21st.
The heavy scent of smoke filled Max lungs as he took it all in and then let it go. Bottles of Don Julio were scattered everywhere. A smirk crossed their face as they grabbed a half-empty bottle of liquor, taking in large gulps. He frowned as he smacked his lips, tolerating the bitter taste.
Max sat on the edge of his couch, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of a lamp in the corner. His apartment was quiet, almost eerily.. The silence pressing down on him as he stared at the bottles the coffee table as they were scattered everywhere. It was nearly half-empty, the liquid catching the light in a way that seemed to taunt him, offering a fleeting escape from the pain that had settled deep in his chest.
What happened two weeks , he didn't even care about it. Yes, he was pissed but eventually he calmed down and realized that it wasn't that serious. His mind wasn't stuck on that low life. Fuck Trez.
Only problem he had was that he couldn't get Joshua out his mind.
He took another gulp. The first sip was always the hardest, the sharp taste biting at his throat but after that it became easier. Too easy. The burn that followed each swallow was a temporary relief, a momentary distraction from the thoughts that wouldn't leave him alone.
The room around him was a mess, weeks of old dishes piled in the sink, clothes strewn across the floor and a stack of unopened mail on the counter. It was as if the chaos in his mind had spilled out into his surroundings, and he didn't have the energy to clean it up. Or maybe he just didn't care. Max kept staring at a picture of Joshua, mocking him with his beautiful smile.
He hadn't had the strength to delete it.. though every time he saw it, it felt like a punch to the gut. He'd tried to hide it once but it didn't make the memories go away. The image of him was seared into his mind, unshakable.
Max took another sip, closing his eyes as he let the alcohol take hold. He wanted to forget. Forget the way he'd left a long time ago, the way he said it wasn't his fault but still walked out the door. Forget the plans they'd made, now nothing more than broken promises and what-ifs. But the more he drank, the more the memories seemed to surface, like a cruel twist of fate.
He knew he was spiraling, but he didn't know how to stop. The drink in his hand was the only thing that seemed to quiet the noise, even if just for a little while. But as the night wore on, the numbness started to wear off and the ache in his chest returned, sharper than before.
The Don Julio was almost gone now and Max felt a wave of despair wash over him. He reached for the bottle. As he took another sip, he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He'd been holding them back for days, refusing to let himself break down but now in the solitude of his apartment.. there was no one to see, no one to judge.
