our little lifetime || taylor hawkins and dave grohl

chapter five - hammered and wholesome

Everything after that was a complete and utter fuckin' blur. (Whether or not that was from the sky rocketing amount of alcohol I'd consumed or the three word shit that Hawkins had just pulled.) It wasn't like we hadn't said I love you before, I mean there's countless videos of us fuckin' sayin' that shit, but it was different tonight.

I was wasted as hell, and my stomach was doin' shit I couldn't control and Taylor Hawkins loves me. I was suddenly snapped out of some haze  I was in when Tay's hand hits my shoulder, "Dude, I'm gonna puke-." And before he could finish his sentence, he throws up all over me. "Fuck. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

TAYLOR'S POV:

Shit shit shit. The last few minutes have been a fuckin' mess. Metaphorically and literally. Love, puke, Dave, what the actual fuck? Before I could apologise again, my drinks shot out of my throat again. My insides were burning and I wanted to die. As my knees weakened, I fell into Dave and he kept me stable. Other bargoers jeered on at me as they saw me as "Weak and Pathetic" but I hadn't drunk like this in 4 weeks which was a long time for me.

"Come on, dude," Dave flung my arm over his shoulder as he walked me to the door, "Let's go."

We both drunkenly wandered into a taxi and Dave directed the guy to take us home, I mean to Dave's home. The car ride was long and agonising, but Dave made it better. He propped my weightless head against his shoulder and held me when the car was bumpin' around and shit. I don't know if this was guilt for takin' me out when he wasn't supposed to so therefore he was taking extra care, or maybe he cared this much naturally. Besides, drunk instincts are usually pure and honest ones... right?

Getting through the front door was comforting. I slumped down on the sofa and Dave fixed me a glass of water. Maybe he wasn't as wasted as I thought he was, and that wasn't good. "Feelin okay, Hawkins?" Truth be told, I was feeling better at home, than I was at that shitty club. I mean Dave's home. 

"Yeah, a bit, thanks D." I said, my eyes fighting to keep themselves open and I think Dave recognised that. "Yeah, just tired," I smiled appreciatively, "Thanks for this, man." 

"No, worries Taylor," Dave got up and stood before me, "Let's get you to bed." 

DAVE'S POV:

I took Taylor by the hand and dragged him upstairs into his room. It was a pretty fuckin' basic space, but Taylor was just glad to see a bed. He planted himself down on it and i threw the blanket over him. "Right, I'll see you in the morning, Hawkins."

"Stay." I heard the soft, weak, one-word sentence just as my finger was about to press down on the light switch. I turned to face Taylor again and he begged, "Please.

His voice was frail and gentle, and he genuinely sounded like a child beggin' his Dad to check under the bed for monsters. "I don't want to be alone again, Dave." My knees weakened as I saw how vulnerable and genuinely upset he was. He must really trust me if he's willing to show how fragile he is.

Taylor Hawkins is often perceived as a goofy, hot, sweet-talking, womanizer but no one sees him the way I do. T's a funny, loving, soft, gentle and still hot, I guess, kind soul who'd never intend to hurt someone. He's just recovering at the moment, so it would be horrible for me to leave him alone.

I went in and sat down on the bed beside him. "It's really that bad, huh?" I ask him, in a hopefully soothing voice. "I don't even know what's going on anymore."

"I get it, dude," I start, "Your whole life has reset around you and you're going to have to rebuild it. And I'm gonna help you." He smiled heartily and I looked down into his eyes. "You're the best fuckin' friend anyone could ever have. 

"Sorry about earlier by the way," He said, but I shot him a slightly confused look. Was he talking about the puke or the fact that he said he loved me. "What I said."

"You don't have to be fuckin' sorry, Hawkins," I laugh, "I say it almost every time we're on stage." He smiled but he looked pained. "What's wrong?"

"I meant it."