It was 3:00 a.m. when Scott finally set the wine bottle down on the floor in front of him. He sat against the foot of his bed, legs pulled tightly against him. Tears streamed down his face, and collected on the already damp spot in his shirt.
Scott was done being sad; now he was angry. He stared at the bottle by his foot. That bottle had taken him a couple of hours to finish, and he was left dissatisfied. The alcohol had not numbed his pain as he was certain it had promised to do. In a fit of rage, he kicked the bottle and sent it flying into the leg of his dresser. Scott broke down just as fast as the glass shattered. He crawled over to the mess and picked shards of glass from the carpet as he sobbed.
Now Scott's hands ached from the little cuts that covered them, but he couldn't make himself care. He wiped the little droplets of blood off of his hands on an old rag in his closet; then he reached for the phone.
Scott: India November Yankee. Bring alcohol.
In less than half an hour, the door rattled.
Scott: Did you forget already? Key is under the plant.
The rattling ended, and was shortly followed by the door swinging on its hinges. Hard soled shoes smacked across the floor. Scott heard the sound of a bottle being placed on the granite countertop. He was pretty sure a plastic container was also set down, but he wasn't completely paying attention. Eventually those hard soled shoes were in Scott's peripheral vision; he looked up at the towering body connected to them.
"Hey Dad." Scott let out a chuckle.
"Hi Scott." Alex replied, sitting down next to him. "So tell me what's going on." In a matter of seconds, Scott was hysterical. Although Scott could barely speak between sobs, Alex sat patiently and put together the puzzle pieces that he was being given. "So you broke up with Dianne. But why are you the one crying on the floor?" Scott explained with detail how he felt and why. His inflection changed from sad to angry to guilty with every sentence.
Alex understood everything. He understood why Scott was angry, guilty, and sad all at once. He understood what he was saying even though he mumbles when he's drunk. He even understood that these feelings must come from more than this break up, but he didn't have a clue from where they came. At least, he didn't have a clue until Scott decided more wine was in order.
Scott wiped his face on his sleeve as he stood. It took all of his power and then some to pull Alex off of the floor, but he did. It did not take any power to pull him down the hallway however, because Alex knew he had no choice but to go. "I miss Mitch." Scott declared as he tried to open the bottle. Alex pushed him aside and opened it, poured them both glasses, and returned to his seat at the breakfast bar. "He's just so happy, and sweet, and he puts up with me. And I mean, he's cute. I miss his lil' face aroun' here." After downing his glass and refilling them both, Scott sat down next to Alex. "Maybe I should just date Mitch and then I don't have to worry ever again. And he won't have to worry either because he'll have me and I'm very hot." Alex looked up at Scott licking his finger and "burning" it on himself for emphasis.
After that, Scott sat quietly for a while. Alex sipped silently, not wanting to interrupt whatever "amazing" thoughts Scott was making. He had learned that in these situations it was best for Scott to talk and for Alex to listen. When Scott was speechless, he let him gather his thoughts.
Alex zoned back in when Scott moved his gaze from the floor to the ceiling and back again. Finally, after sitting with his mouth open for a long minute, he spoke. "Maybe I'm gay Lexi."
Scott sat relaxed. The empty wine glass twirled carelessly in his fingers as he pondered the thought which he had set so gently on the table. Normally, a thought such as this would panic Scott. Scott panicked about what shirt to wear in the morning. Although, in this intoxicated world, it didn't matter.
On the other hand, Alex was in a controlled state of panic. He had not anticipated such a profound idea to come out his drunk friend. Scott was the kind of drunk that could barely make coherent sentences. The situation at hand was so unusual it made Alex question if Scott was actually drunk or just faking it. Maybe he had surpassed his usual tendencies into a completely new state of intoxication. Either way, Alex had been waiting for Scott to say something like that for years. He refilled his glass and listened.
"I should probably take home a guy from a bar, see how things go. But I just want Mitchy. But if I'm not gay I'm going to break his fucking heart Alex, and then we won't be friends anymore." Scott babbled on about his big plans, but Alex didn't really listen.
Instead, he studied him.
The oceans in Scott's eyes jumped around, unable to focus. His lips moved rhythmically, only momentary pauses interrupted their dance. From the stubble on Scott's sharp jaw to the silky blonde hair on his head, Alex' eyes captured it all. Alex continued to drown in thoughts of the beautiful man who had turned his head to look out of the window.
Alex was in a trance, unaware of the gravity pulling him toward Scott. He was so close, but both of the boys were too intoxicated in their own poison to notice. That was, until Scott turned back around, and their lips grazed.
