Oblivion

23

The moment Dan walked into that bar he felt out of his depth. It was busy, full of drunks and he was desperate for a drink. Or anything to take the edge off the pain that had taken residence in his heart. But he knew Kyle would never let him get close enough to the bar to buy one. He felt panicked.

'We can go if you want.' Kyle must have noticed the look on his face and how he was playing with his hands, the buttons on his shirt and the laces on his shoes as they sat in the one quiet corner. He watched Kyle sipping his beer, jealously.

'Stay. I'm gonna go though.'

'No. This was a bad idea, I'm sorry for doing this to you mate.'

'It's fine. I can't go through life avoiding this happening, can I? But I've tried and I'll just head home. You need to stay and get drunk, you've had a tough time.'

'Only if you're sure. You're a stronger man than I am.'

He bid him a goodnight and left. The night air felt cold and refreshing. Just the smell and the atmosphere in the bar had been suffocating. It reminding him of being out of control. He had to get out of there.

The lights of the off license shone like a beacon. They had passed it on the way and an idea had formed in his head. He could buy a bottle of wine. Just one. Just a glass, to see if that helped. He craved the taste and the release that came with it. Just one and he would never drink again. His palms began to sweat as he got closer. His hand gripped tightly around the wallet in his pocket. His heart pounded. His feet veered towards the doorway to the shop.

But he couldn't do it. He couldn't ruin everything he'd worked for, everyone who had supported him, just because he'd had a shitty few days. He'd never forgive himself.

He got home, put on the tv and fired up the laptop. It was time to find himself a new place to live and a job. He had money. All the money he'd made from writing songs that were still being played on the radio, had been sat in the bank making interest for years. But he needed something to keep him occupied. The band were more than likely going to have a reform of sorts. Probably not to the heights of their past, but playing a few gigs would be nice. He wanted to get back into journalism. If anyone knew how to be a journalist, it was him. He had been to university to study it and then been subjected it first hand with being in the band.

He wasn't sure where to look for a place. Or what kind of place. He didn't need a lot of room. He had no belongings. But a nice big house to stretch his legs in would be nice. In the city? Out in the country? It would be nice to stay near Kyle. He scrolled through pages and pages of houses, flats, cottages, mansions. He felt excited. He would love to get somewhere and decorate, fill it with nice things and enjoy the finer things. A far cry from sleeping between wet newspapers in shop doorways.

He must've dozed off, because he suddenly woke with a jump when the front door slammed shut.

'Kyle?' He called out. There was a clatter in the front hallway. Then a shout of pain. He rushed to door, turning on the lights and finding Kyle in a pile on the floor. He was a mess. His shirt was torn and his fists bloodied. 'Have you been in a fight?'

'Yeah.' He giggled. He sat himself up and looked at Dan with his drunk eyes, trying to focus on him. He stopped laughing and touched Dan's cheek with a cold hand. 'I'm so sorry.'

'It's ok.' Dan laughed. He tried to help his friend up off the floor and get him to bed, but he was a dead weight and was not helping himself at all.

'It's not ok. This is all my fault.' Dan could hear the sadness in his voice. It reminded him why he'd made the right choice in not drinking that night. It always made him overly emotional. He looked at Kyle slumped there looking a state, now noticing the vomit on his jeans and a missing shoe.

'Lets get you to bed.' Dan urged. But Kyle held Dan by the back of his neck and bought his forehead to his.

'I killed her.' He whispered. He immediately began to cry and wail. Repeating how sorry he was. Dan was scared and confused. What had he done?

'Who?' But there was no calming him down. He thrashed about, trying to stand up but falling back down. 'Kyle? Who did you kill? What have you done?' He could feel himself shaking. Kyle still didn't answer. Dan needed to know. If it had happened while he was out, he needed to help Kyle, before the police got here. That was the first thing he thought of; how could he help his friend not get arrested?

'Sam.' He whispered. His sobs became louder. Dan felt more confused. 'I killed Sam, Dan, it was me.'