RoadTrip oneshots

| Randy | Sober |

Part 2

Warning: vomit however it is only a brief moment

Rye

Warmth and comfort surrounds me. It's quiet and peaceful, something familiar and safe about the scent of the sheets I'm wrapped up in.

As the blissful ignorance of sleep wears off, reality begins to rear its ugly head. My eyes fly open as I truly began to take in my surroundings, my stomach dropping when my worst fears were confirmed.

I was in his bed.

I rolled over slowly, glancing behind me only to see the rest of the bed empty. Letting out a small sigh of relief, I relax slightly into the sheets however not completely. The whirlwind of emotions that had driven me to this point wastes no time in resuming its ruthless assault on my insides. Anxiety and guilt courses through me as well as embarrassment at the state he must have seen me in yesterday. The growing pounding deep in the back of my head makes me groan and roll over, the pain forcing me to shut my eyes again.

My stomach twists uncomfortably, more than likely from the toxic combination of guilt and alcohol. I try to take a deep breath until a particularly violent turn forces me to stand. Staggering blindly into the adjoining bathroom just in time, I lift the toilet seat before emptying the contents of my stomach into the bowl. I sit hunched over the bowl until I have nothing left to give, just dry heaving a couple of times, the force of it exhausting my already weak body further.

Leaning back against the cabinet, I try to take a deep breath, hand resting against my tender stomach, closing my eyes. When discomfort of the cool tiles of the bathroom floor becomes too much, I manage to get to my feet. I rinse out my mouth and splash some cold water on my face in the hopes it will make me look not quite as shit as I feel.

As I step into the living room, I see Andy curled up underneath a blanket on the sofa. The pull of guilt increases. Not only have I been a burden to him again, even though he shouldn't have to deal with my shit but I've also kicked him out his own bed.

Moving towards the kitchen, instinct tells me to open the cupboard above the sink. I can't help but break into a small smile when I see my glass, the one he bought for me as he was sick of me constantly using his. I guess not everything's changed. I grab the glass and place it under the tap, twisting the cold water knob on the side. I wince at the sound, praying it doesn't wake Andy.

I switch the tap off, bringing the glass to my lips, taking a small sip. The cool liquid soothes my burning throat and dry mouth. After topping the glass up, I take another sip and turn around to face the living room again.

The wet glass slips through my fingers as I flinch at the sight of Andy, not having heard him get up. The sound of the glass shattering echos around the silent apartment. My gaze falls the the floor, the mess of water and glass shards surrounding the space around me.

"Rye?" Andy asks.

At the sound of his voice I break. I choke out a sob before my legs give way and I collapse onto the floor. Tears stream down my face as I my hands fist in my hair. I feel the glass slice my knees as I hit the floor, the pain barely registering in comparison to the feeling of my head splitting open and my heart breaking, drowning in my own thoughts and emotions.

"Shh, you're okay, I'm here, I'm not going anywhere." I feel Andy's arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest as one of his hands cradle my head, the other rubbing small circles on my back. "Just breathe, you're okay, you're safe."

After wanting nothing for the past few months other than for Andy to hold me, I can't bare it. The sickening feeling of guilt forces me to pull away and stand, gripping the side as I try to take deep breaths. The pounding in my head only worsens as darkness starts to seep in from the edge of my vision before obscuring it completely.