Playlist:
•Say10
•No Reflection
• • Dark Headspace• •
1 month following....
The whiskey bottle felt cold and empty between my fingers. My head was spinning, my surroundings were a mess, my body was covered in goosebumps, but my house remained dark. Nearly pitch black.
My curtains remained shut for more than six weeks, and the green, shattered glass from my absinthe bottle earlier still sat quietly on the marble tiles. The feel of damp air crawled its way through my dirty clothing, and I could smell mould beginning to grow around me.
I felt as if my eyes were going to fall out of my head as I took another mouthful of whiskey, the horrible, chemical taste singeing my tastebuds harshly, but little did I care.
A knock on my door didn't even give me motivation to move.
Half a smoked cigarette was in between my fingers as I lay upon my back on my black leather couch. I rarely smoked, but my body felt like it was dying for one, more or less.
"Brian?" I heard being whimpered behind the door softly, but I continued to stare at the empty coldness enveloping my now frail body. I had become weak and lifeless, absolutely useless. Not once had I stepped outside, for I had no reason to. I felt just fine in here, alone, decaying away in my own filth. I hadn't showered for weeks, and the stench that filled my nostrils up couldn't bother me any more than the chime of the clock every hour, which didn't bother me at all.
"Brian cmon" another knock was sounded upon the dark oak door of my house.
I only groaned and rolled over, reaching for an old styled lighter to light back up the cigarette now pressed between my lips.
"Brian, open the door!"
The voice got more persistent, and before I smashed something else, I heaved my delicate body from its resting place.
Stumbling towards the door was difficult, I had never been like this before, ever.
I undid the two chain and bolt locks, and opened the door, cigarette in mouth, whiskey bottle in hand.
He grimaced as he saw my state.
"God Brian, what's happened to you"
My eyes stayed half open as I stared angrily back into his concerned and worried porcelain face.
"If you came here to criticise me, it would be greatly appreciated if you stepped back into your fucking car Jeordie" I whispered harshly, my eyes remaining hard and confident.
Yet his eyes stayed soft, and so did the rest of his face. Sometimes I feel like I need him back into my life. I miss his love, his care and his concern.
"No" he said, and he looked me up and down as I took a drag on the cigarette.
Then, his eyes hardened.
A small, pale hand shot up and grabbed the cigarette from my hand. He took a drag then stepped on it with his booted foot.
"Don't fucking smoke" he growled, snatching the bottle from my grasp too.
Any other day I would've lashed out, wrung his neck and had the urge to bite his throat, but I felt too weak. Mentally, physically.
He nearly pushed me aside, but his thrust remained gentle and loving.
His hazel eyes peered behind me into the house, but I stared straight back at him.
I could still see that frail little dolly still in him. He's changed, but I still know him for Twiggy. He's put on weight, sawed his dreads from his head, and silky black hair replaced them. His face was free of makeup, glowing nicely. And his lips were pulled into a cross of a frown and a pout.
He growled. "We're doing something about this"
And that's when I snapped.
"Get out" I whispered, my eyes shifting to his.
He snapped his head to me, slightly cocking it to the side. "Wh-"
"Get out, White, before I hurt you" I couldn't even find the respect or care to use his first name.
I could feel the rage burning up in my fists, and I couldn't help myself. But his eyes remained hard and confident.
"No, move" he ordered.
I felt myself grow furious. "Fucking leave White, leave now!" I began to yell, my knuckles fading white as I clenched my fists harder.
He took a step forward, and my eyes became blurry.
I grabbed his collar and threw him into the pavement, stepping up, I stood on his fists, and he squirmed.
"Who the fuck do you think you are huh!? Coming back into my life like you care!?" I spat into his face and he continued squirming.
I ground my teeth together as he remained eye contact with me.
I suddenly threw myself from him, sitting on my doorstep, and thrusting my head into my hands.
My throat tightened as I could hear him groaning to stand up, and the tears just decided to flow.
I could hear him sigh, and he only walked up to me, standing in front of my quivering, weak body.
A quick gesture was all it took for me to fully break down, and I leant up to envelop him, wrapping my arms around his small shoulders and pressing my torso against his.
He did the same, and stroked my greasy, dirty hair.
"I'm so sorry" I whispered into his ear as I pulled him closer to me.
He didn't say anything, remained silent with those perfect lips of his. But he continued to stroke my hair, and squeeze me back.
"I've missed you so much Jeordie, god I miss you" I groaned into his neck and I cried harder.
But he didn't let go.
