Baby Fat

seventeen

The vodka burns. It burns everywhere. His nose, his throat. Still, he pushes it down. There wasn't a lot to say about the situation other than it was happening. Sometimes that all someone can say. Because shit happens whether someone likes it or not.

Corrie didn't give Bradley an explanation; Bradley didn't ask. They had always been like that, probably always will be.

"You're most likely going to get alcohol poisoning if you keep going that the rate you are," Bradley states in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Right now, I don't care if I live or die," Corrie told him off. Bradley should've been more concerned by Corrie's comment, but Bradley had heard it all before.

"And why is that exactly?" Bradley pushes slightly. He's picking at the hem of his shirt, acting as if he didn't care whether or not Corrie told him. They're both sitting comfortably in Bradley's too expensive basement. It has junk that Bradley knows his parents wasted thousands on and will never do more than bat an eye at it.

"Shit happens," Corrie rolls his eyes. He takes a gulp of the vodka straight from the bottle. He doesn't care about pleasantries, he cares about getting drunk on a Tuesday afternoon.

They sit in silence. Corrie cringes every time the vodka goes down. Still, nothing is to be said. It's like breaking the silence will cause someone in the room to fall apart.

"Where's Devon?" Bradley finally asks, sick and tired of all the goddamn silence between them.

"I left him," Corrie admits, too drunk to notice that he spilled what he was trying to contain. Bradley hums, not knowing what to say.

He knew this was going to happen eventually, he just didn't think it'd happen so soon. But everything with Corrie comes to an end. They both believe it because they don't know anything else.

"Why?" Bradley finally questions. There is nothing left to ask but why.

Corrie snaps, "Shit fucking happens, Bradley. Just let it happen in peace, will ya?" He holds the bottle of vodka to his mouth and lets it pour. It's disgusting and delectable, it's both things at once.

"Whatever, goddamn it, Corrie. For once in you're fucking life tell me what's going on!" Bradley feels the smoke blowing out of his ears. His face is growing an unnatural color of red. He balls his hands into fists.

"Yeah? How about you do the fucking same! Don't be such a hypocrite, fucking hell." Corrie huffs, less pissed off than Bradley. However, the alcohol on top of his usual temper is making his rage grow to extreme heights too fast. It's all growing too fast, and it's all falling too fast.

Time needs to slow down, it needs to stop.

"Shit, Corrie, just fucking shit." Bradley stands up from the couch to walk away from the situation. But he feels a hand grab onto his forearm before he can make it to the steps.

He's pulled around, face to face with Corrie whose more than ready to blow his top.

"Stop walking away like a little bitch! You want me to talk? Do the goddamn same!" Corrie throws the empty bottle of vodka at the wall after finishing it. It shatters, making Bradley cringe.

Corrie doesn't change.

"Dammit, Corrie," Bradley huffs. He rubs his forehead clearly stressed. The room is too hot and everything is too much.

"Just tell me what the fucks going on with you Bradley!" Corrie yells.

"Then you do the same!" Bradley snaps back.

"Fine," Corrie growls. "Devon's falling in goddamn love with me and I can't handle it. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Bradley sighs heavily. "My mom is overbearing and everything I do I'm doing for her."