Bed Sheets II

16. Unusual Fight

Draven noticed how disheveled his golden locks were, as if he had ran his trembling fingers through them countlessly. His eyes were bold red, swollen from the hours he had spent crying in his car, drinking a bottle of liquor by himself. His fingers were quivering, and rage contorted his face.

The instance his gaze met Draven's, the glare amplified and he growled, "You damn asshole!"

"Eric, what are you—" before he had time to realize what was happening, Eric tackled Draven to the ground, both their bottles of alcohol stumbling to the ground. Both of them were intoxicated, and Draven attempted to stop Eric's blows to his face. They were weak, since his arms felt numb, but Draven had difficulty countering his attack. "Eric, stop—"

"You ruined my relationship! It's all because of you!"

He slammed his forehead into Draven's nose, and the strength had caused Draven to wince, and soon enough, his nose started bleeding. The instance it began bleeding, Eric's pulled backwards with widened eyes, appearing apologetic.

"Wait, I didn't mean to do that."

"Get off from me," Draven winced, pushing Eric to the side and he stepped away from him. Draven stood to his feet, stumbling from being drunk and rushed towards the bathroom.

Eric followed him in guilt, staring as Draven pulled his shirt over his head and placed it over his nostrils to soak up the blood.

"I didn't...mean to actually hurt you," Eric's face softened and he watched Draven lean over the counter and rinse his nose that continued to bleed. He began worrying, "You're losing loads of blood—"

"That's what happens when you fight someone Eric," Draven complained, staring at his nose in the mirror and noticing that the bridge was staring to swell. "You hit me hard."

He began to spit blood, and Eric was shuffling at his feet, his droopy drunk eyes worriedly staring Draven, "I didn't think you'd...get hurt. I just needed to take out my anger but I—"

"I'll be fine," Draven murmured, wiping his nose and noticing the bleeding was going down. He then pinched toilet paper up his nostrils, and laughed in the mirror, "How do I look?"

Eric chuckled uneasily, "Handsome."

"You think so? With toilet paper up my nose?"

"A goofy handsome," he added.

He was still filled with guilt, and Draven, although annoyed that had happened, said, "It's fine, stop feeling bad." However, he was noticing Eric having a difficult time stopping his eyes from staring at Draven's physique, and Draven exited the bathroom, "I have extra shirts in my office."

Eric followed him, picking up the bottles of liquor while examining the manner Draven's back muscles shifted with every of his steps, and he didn't remember his shoulder being that wide and broad. He held the door open for Eric to walk through, and grabbed a shirt from a cabinet in his bureau. When he pulled the shirt over his head, he finally faced Eric who flinched at his turn.

"Who drove you here?" Draven asked curiously.

Eric sniffled, "I did."

"Drunk?"

"I guess—"

"That's so bad, you can't drink and drive Eric!"

"I wasn't that drunk when I drove, I was standing in front of your door for a good half an hour."

Draven shook his head, scolding, "Still, that's bad. Do you need a ride home?"

Eric chuckled, "What home? Kyle kicked me out for the day."

"Is that why you look like you've been crying?"

He nodded his head, "He thinks I'm still in love with you. Said that with your new comic, that he'll have to worry since it connects you and I."

Draven inhaled a sharp breath, and turned away for a moment. Eric had said it so bluntly that it caught him off guard, and he paused for a moment before asking, "Do you...need a place to crash for the night?"

Sober Eric would have refused, knowing that it would have been a grave mistake if he had been trying to move on from Draven. However, drunk Eric needed consoling; he wanted someone to listen to him and someone to talk to, and since he had recently moved back here with his fiancé, he didn't have much people he felt comfortable enough to chat about his relationship.

Hence why, he did not hesitate to rapidly nod his head, and Draven said, "I have a spare bedroom—"

"I know you do Draven, I basically lived at your house."

Draven snickered, "How would you know I didn't move?"

"You said you would never move from that home since it is linked to your grandmother."

Draven furrowed his brows, having forgotten that he did tell Eric that. "I told you that five years ago."

"Draven, I remember your coffee order. There's no way I'd forget that."

Draven sent a challenging gaze, his hands in his front pockets, "What else do you remember?"

"You like having your toes tickled—"

"That isn't embarrassing," Draven hissed, his cheeks beaming red.

Eric smiled, his drunken eyes widening, "You workout only four times a week because you said five would make you too big."

"That's not hard to remember."

"You hate having your meatball touching your pasta and tomato sauce."

Draven chuckled, "I mean, for obvious reasons, doesn't it look gross—"

"Look gross, yes I know," Eric said simultaneously. "You hate when someone tries to play with your hair."

"Which you constantly tried to, Eric," Draven said in a tight voice, which caused Eric to laugh hysterically.

After their laughter slowed down, and came to a silence, Eric was moments from continuing when Draven lowered his eyes and muttered, "I missed you, Eric."

Eric's ears perked, and he hadn't felt such pressure of adrenaline in his blood in so long. His entire body felt warm, as if he was in a sauna, and his breath felt caught in his throat for a second.

However, he needed to be honest, and his slumbered mind was not going to resist the truth.

"I missed you too Draven."