Flower Boy

Chapter Twenty Seven

I opened the door, calling again.

"I'm home." I listened for a response, but heard none. I walked in and there was no sight of James in the kitchen or the living room. A little piece of me hoped that he wasn't dead drunk and was calmly reading in his room, while another part of me worried he left the house completely drunk and was doing something dangerous.

Cautiously, I went up to his room. I opened the door with a creek, and I saw James lying in his bed, asleep. I went over to his head, making sure not to make as little noise as possible. Before I got too close to him, I could smell the alcohol. I backed away and closed the door, sighing. At least he was safe at home.

Back downstairs in the kitchen I opened the refrigerator door. I grabbed as many beers as I could and dumped them out in the sink, crushing the cans and throwing them in the trash. I grabbed more following suit with them until I could find no more cans of beer. Hopefully that would stop James for a while.

"What are you doing?" I heard and I whipped my head around.

"I'm getting rid of the beer." I said, trying to stay calm. He stopped for a second, then practically flew to the refrigerator. He pulled the door open aggressively, and stared at the empty racks that held beer just a few minutes ago. He looked at me as if I had just killed his favorite pet.

"How could you?" he asked quietly. I shook my head.

"You need to stop this," I started.

"Don't tell me what I need to do!" he hissed at me, and I took a step back.

"J-James, you're too drunk. Y-You could die," I said, my stutter coming back.

"What if that's the point? Hm?" he asked, looking like that was obviously the answer. I stared at him in shock.

"What?" I asked, completely stunned.

"What if I just want to see Donavan again? What if I just want death to take me to him? Did you consider that?" he asked, his eyes wide, as if he was staring into my soul. I shook my head.

"W-We should live for him, not die." I protested.

"What good is it, living? For him? Oh please," he scoffed. I was going to say something in return, but then I realized. He was right. What good is living for him? There's nothing more we can do for him now, he's gone now. I stepped away from the counter.

"I-I'm sorry." I stuttered, and went up to my room. I sat on my bed for a while, before deciding it was time to go to sleep. I was too tired to think of anything else. I collapsed backwards, images of the beer, James, and those sleeping pills dancing behind my eyes.