SUMMER
The only thing Summer wants to do when she finally gets home after her very long Anthonyless day at work is curl up in blankets on the couch and pass out or alternatively curl up in bed with Anthony, but she has a feeling deep down that isn’t going to happen.
Anthony will probably need something other than snuggles especially with his cold that doesn’t seem to want to get better. She pushes her way into the apartment and discovers a small stack of boxes by the door and the faint and sour smell of alcohol hanging in the air.
“Anthony?” Summer calls into the dark apartment and flicks on the light
“Shit.” The groan from the kitchen is followed by what sounds like a glass bottle tipping over on the floor. “F*ck…”
“Anthony?” Summer says with a little more concern and creeps around the corner of the island to see Anthony sitting up on the kitchen floor with a half empty bottle of whiskey in one hand.
He’s right hand is pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut tight like he’s trying to battle off a headache. While is left hand is clutching his chest like it's been hurting.
“What time's it?” He slurs opening one eye to look up at Summer.
Summer is too flustered to answer the question. She’d known for a while that he drank, she’d smelled it on him quite a few times at work, but he’d never been this drunk. She's only ever seen him hungover. This is new and kind of scary.
“Anthony, are you drunk?” She’s not even sure where he got whiskey. Hope occasionally has a bottle of wine stowed away for a deterrent after a long day or for her occasional nice dates with her boyfriend but never whiskey.
“Um… n- yeah… little bit,” he mumbles pinching the bridge of his nose a little harder. “ Shit… I’m on your kitchen floor…”
“Yes…” Summer says slowly.
“ Sorry, I’ll…” He trails off and squints up at her with a look of defeat in his dazed eyes. “I’ll go.” He says wheezing
“Anthony I don’t think that’s a-” she’s interrupted by Anthony attempting to stand up but falling back down so hard it rattles the kitchen.
“Damn it,” he spits angrily and rubs his lower back before drawing his legs up close to him and planting his forehead in between his knees. “I’m sorry Sam… I should’ve gone to a bar or something…”
“Anthony I’m not- never mind, just what happened?” She asks stepping toward him.
“I went ho- not home, Sunset’s to get my stuff,” he mutters not looking up at her.
“Oh…” Summer breathes and lowers herself onto her knees next to him.
“It was- I shouldn’t’ve gone…” He says and he seems to be out of breathe
“Was she there?” Summer asks urgently, fear rising in her stomach.
Anthony shakes his head. “I almost stayed.”
“Oh…”
“I had to make it go away,” Anthony says gesturing to the bottle laying on its side on the kitchen floor. “And it didn’t work.”
Summer sighs and runs her hand gently down his sweaty back. She knows chat with Steven about his best friend that trying to drown memories in a bottle doesn’t work. She’s pretty sure Anthony knows this too.
“Then again it never does,” Anthony moans and grabbing nervously at his hair. “I don't know why I bothered… I’d made it almost two weeks.”
“How long has this been going on?” Summer asks softly.
“Too long.”
Summer leans back against the fridge and guides Anthony back with her. “Since you had the transplant, right?”
Anthony swallows and nods his head.
"It is okay with your heart? I mean does it have a consequence that you are drinking this hard?-"
"Yea-No! I mean yes, I have chronic pain but it intensifies when I drink-"
"And why do you still do it!" She asked frustrated, if it hurts him why should he keep on drinking? A masochist?
"Cause it feels like I'm alive, I can feel pain and-"
“Did you try going to meetings? Did you try going to psychologist or what?” Summer asks, knowing that it’s probably the most generic response ever and that he’s probably already heard it before.
Anthony laughs bitterly. “Oh my goodness! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”
Summer pulls away from Anthony startled by the pure venom in his voice.
“Of course I tried that!” He spits the words out like he hates every letter of them with the very fabric of his being.
Summer’s hand bumps the bottle of whiskey as she scoots a little farther away from Anthony and it makes a quiet clatter as it moves across the floor.
A look of confusion crosses Anthony’s face and he blinks a few times like he’s trying to register something that isn’t quite clicking. The confusion on his face gives way to regret as he eyes the space between them.
“I’m sorry Sam, I just…” he shakes his head miserably and then grabs the edge of the counter.
“Anthony,” Summer begins to say as she stands up, but he interrupts her.
“I shouldn’t have- you were just trying to help,” he chokes and hauls himself to his feet. “I need to go.”
Summer can’t make herself move to stop him from leaving before it’s too late and the apartment door is closing behind him.
YOU ARE READING
The Ways in Which I Die (COMPLETED)
RomanceSummer's not that excited about her job. Anthony's not that excited about his life. They meet somewhere in the middle and Maybe just might have a path to happiness...
