the recovery project [2]

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preston

"alcohol poisoning... drank way too much in such little time... lucky... isn't in a coma or dead..."

his eyes flutter open, and his eyes immediately adjust to the fact that he is in the hospital, an iv in his arm and in his nose to give him fluids. vivian and a doctor are talking outside of his room.

"viv..." he croaks, eyes watering.

she senses the movement out of her peripheral vision, opening the door and rushing in. "preston, baby, it's okay."

he clutches her hand, tears spilling down his cheeks as she feeds him a glass of water, slowly so he doesn't choke. "i'm sorry."

"you could have died. do you know that?" she wipes his cheeks. "you could have died."

his voice is like gravel, and he has to clear it a few times before any words can come out. "i wasn't thinking. i was wasted and upset about my father—"

"you need help," she shakes her head, warming his hands up in hers. "a therapist or counselor at least. hell, you can talk to me, but i need you be open and tell me everything. please."

he nods and takes a deep breath, trying to form the words he wants to say so they don't tumble out of his mouth all at once. he needs to get better, focus on his girlfriend and his upcoming sophomore year of university, needs to finally let go and accept the facts. his face is damp again— the road to success won't be easy. "there... there wasn't even a funeral."

she squeezes his hand. "take your time."

"there was never a funeral," he starts again, "because there was no one to go. he had friends, and colleagues... but they weren't as close to him as i was, and i was in charge of it. i couldn't even host a funeral for my own father, because i put my feelings before his fucking death. how selfish is that?"

"it isn't selfish, preston," she says with sympathy. "you're allowed to grieve. he was your dad, you loved him."

"and he left!" he cries, his fists clenching as he hits his free one against the bed. "he left and he didn't tell anyone and i have no one!"

"you have me," she unclenched his fists and tilted his chin up to look at her. "you will always have me."

"i don't know what to do, vivian. what the hell am i supposed to do?"

"we'll figure it out. why don't we get your out of here, and then we can start planning the funeral, yeah? from there, i swear to god i'll do everything in my power to help you."

"i don't deserve you," he whispers.

"you deserve the world," she replies, kissing his forehead. "get some rest. i'll be right here."

fatigued and empty of tears, he drifts off, her hand in his to keep him grounded.