Bring Me Back to You

II

Pj's POV:

"Ugh, Pj what happened last night?" Chris moans. I look over to him. The two of us are still laying on the couch, one of his arms is around my waist and the other is holding his head. Poor guy, it must be splitting right now. But I can't sympathize right now, I have to do this.

"Chris," I say, getting off of the couch.

"We need to talk. Now," I tell him.

"Yeah... Just gimme a second," He says, standing up. He steadies himself on the arm of the couch, then calmly walks into the bathroom, where he doesn't even have time to shut the door or even turn on the lights before letting out everything that he drank last night. I follow him in, flipping the light on. He lets out a moan.

"No! Turn it off!" He yells. I listen and walk over to my sick friend then sit next to him, rubbing his back.

"God, how much did you drink last night?" I exclaim. He winces, before dryly laughing at that comment.

"Last night? You must mean all day," He says.

"All day? Chris, that's nuts! You'll make yourself sick like that!" I tell him. He leans over the toilet, gagging again.

"Yeah. I'm way ahead of you there," He says.

"Chris, why were you drinking all day?" I ask him.

"Well..." He says, thoughtfully, "Why not?"

"Because it's not healthy, Christopher. Now tell me why you were drinking all day," I tell him.

"You know, Pj, I wish you weren't my best friend sometimes. You know me so freaking well that I feel like I have to tell you because I know if I don't you'll still find out," He says, gagging again.

"Find out what?" I ask.

It takes him a minute to answer, he's still getting sick, but when he's done, he says, "You know that thing? You know? That... That... That thing that I do?"

"No, Chris. What thing are we talking about?" I ask him.

"That thing that I do. The one where I think, like a lot," He says.

"Well, Chris you have to be more spe- Oh, that. What could you have possibly been overthinking this time?" I ask him. Without responding, Chris dips his head back in the bowl and empties whatever the hell was left in his stomach. I'm not sure what it was, but there sure was a lot of it. A lot. My hand rubs soothing circles in his back, trying to calm him down, trying to slow his heavy breathing.

"So, you wanna tell me, Chris?" I ask, my voice low and calm now.

"Well, I was doing that and then I got kinda sad and I was like "I want some alcohol" so I got a beer and then I got another one and then I forgot that it was beer so I kept drinking them," He says. He's lying to me, I can tell.

"Can you tell me what you were thinking about though, Chris?" I ask him.

"Not really, Peej. I don't want to talk about it," He says. But I want to know.

"You can tell me," I say.

"Can't I just puke in peace?" He moans.

"What?" Is all I can think of to say.

"Peej, can't you see that I'm literally throwing up right now? This is not happy times, Pj. Just let me puke in peace," He says.

"Fine with me. I'm leaving then," I say, getting up. I do feel a bit guilty, but he was the one that said he wanted peace.

"Wait! Pj!" He yells. I look back.

"Can you grab me a towel?" He asks. That's when I snap.

"Get the towel yourself, Chris. I'm not your fucking maid," I yell at him. He looks over at me quickly, then back to the toilet bowl where he retches even more. How much did he drink last night?

"Peej, don't you think I would get a towel if I could? But again, I'm throwing up, and this probably isn't the best time to move," He says. I don't know what else to say, so I throw a towel at his face.

"As soon as you're done, Chris, you're out," I yell at him.

"Um... What?" He asks, wiping his face.

"Chris, I'm not your maid, and I'm not your fucking caretaker. I'm your friend and I shouldn't have to fucking take care of you every night after you go out partying. I'm done with it. So once you're done in here, pack your things and get the hell out of my apartment!" I scream at him. Chris looks at me, a gloss forming over his eyes. Is he crying?

"Y-yeah. I'll be out in an hour," He says. Then he stops for a minute to take a breath.

"Thank you, Pj. For everything. You can go now," he says, all in a whisper.

I walk out of the bathroom feeling the guiltier than I ever have. I just fucked up big time, didn't I?

"Oh, fuck it!" Chris yells. I don't go check on him. I don't ask if he's okay, I just storm into my room and slam the door. I'm still in my night clothes, so I decide to change. Like every day, put on a pair of skinnies, a t-shirt and a pair of converse. I almost go out, I ponder on whether or not I should go take a walk and calm down, but instead I just sit on my bed. I want to wait a little bit, to make sure Chris really leaves.

I've wanted Chris out for a while. He started drinking about 3 months ago, and almost every night since then I've stayed up waiting for him, and taken care of him that night and all of the following day.

Two months ago now was when I finally realized that this wasn't my job. Chris is fully capable of taking care of himself, so I should be making him do so.

A month ago was when I decided I wanted him out, and the sooner the better.

I always wait up for him, every night that he goes out late, to make sure he gets home okay. He usually is back by midnight, and tonight when he came home at 3 A.M., I decided that was the last straw. It was when I finally decided that enough was enough.

A/N: This may have been written at a sleepover at 1:30 in the morning, but I'm actually very proud of it.
~Katy