With Love, Étienne | ✓

Chapter Twelve

"ARE YOU DRUNK?"

It was after ten at night when when my phone rang and to no surprise, it was Milo's neighbour asking me if I could come over – not that it wasn't an uncommon scenario. Initially, I wasn't going to go for I had forgotten just how much I hated acting like I was a babysitter of sorts for him. Yet after about ten minutes of intense pondering, I couldn't pass down the guilt for abandoning my friend and I swiftly grabbed my jacket before dashing out the door.

Exhibit A in front of me looked a mess. With hair oiled and sticking up in about every direction imaginable and clothes that looked like they hadn't seen an iron in about twenty years, Milo was in bad shape. A week had passed since I last saw him at the library and he was already spouting a five o'clock shadow and grey under-eye bags that matched. He stumbled from left to right on his feet and couldn't keep his balance for more than fifteen seconds before he would go falling over again. I didn't hesitate in slamming the door shut and wrapping my arm around his shoulders. We both angled our way into his open living room where I immediately winced at the state. It looked as though a tornado had ripped its way in here and there didn't appear to be one item in its place. Everything was torn down from the shelves, cables ran all around the floor and I frowned when glass shards were scattered over the kitchen counter.

"Okay, here we go. . ." I groaned under my breath at his weight leaning on me and slowly inched him on to the couch. He flopped backwards while his eyes rolled up to the ceiling. His arms hung off the sides and already, he looked unconscious. I wondered how he had even been able to make his way over to open the door but that wasn't the main concern right now.

I placed my hands on my hips and gazed at the atrocity of the room. A small headache pounded at the sides of my head but I tried to ignore it as best as I could while I grabbed the sweeping brush and began cleaning up the mess. Milo seemed to be out cold and I remained as quiet as I could as to not wake him. After brushing the shards into one small pile – far away so he wouldn't accidentally step in it – I turned on the tap and began to wash down the plates before placing them in the dishwasher.

I glanced back at him every few minutes to make sure he wasn't leaning in such a way that would hurt him. I knew that whatever had happened to make him drink this much had to be bad. Instead of going out, he had stayed home too, which was never a good combination. One thing many people didn't know about Milo, however, was that he had a short temper. He usually managed to control it in public and to give him credit, he had worked on it a lot over the years. There were a few things that triggered him and would set him off into a blind rage - but as his friends, we made sure to avoid either bringing him to certain places or talking about topics. But even with knowing him so long, I had only ever encountered his fit of rage twice.

The first time, I ended up with a black eye and a bloody nose. I would have liked to make the excuse that I was a guy, therefore it didn't hurt at all. . . but it did. I was in pain for around a week afterwards and that was when I learned that trying to step in and stop someone from fighting was not a particularly good idea, although most movies made it seem like it was. One of our classmates, at the time, had written a comment about his parents on his assigned study desk. Everyone knew they were a touchy subject for Milo and it didn't take long before his table went crashing to the ground and eyes that were blinded with anger.

The second time, happened a few weeks before I left for France. It wasn't actually towards me he was expressing his fury, but rather at Louella. It was the only and last time I had ever seen him talk to her in such a way that made my own blood boil. Even to this day, neither of them would tell me what the argument was about and although my curiosity burned brightly, I respected them wanting to not talk about it. That day, I had walked into his apartment and found him pacing around with clenched fists and a red face before letting his fist loose right into the wall beside Louella's face. She shrieked in fear and I had rushed in – pulling him far away from her.