Strings (1 of 2)

Chapter 55 - Wasted

He stands before me, soaking wet. His white dress shirt is see-through from all the rain drenched into it and his blonde hair lays flat on his head, dripping water down his face.

His eyes are fuzzy and unfocused... he's been drinking.

"Emmmmm," He drawls out my name with a cheeky grin.

My heart rate quickens from seeing him again after these weeks apart, but my head worries for his current state. He is past drunk... he is completely wasted. Something I've rarely seen from him.

"Dean... what are you doing here?" I say as I pull him inside, out of the rain.

"I don't know," he says, looking around the foyer of the house. He looks confused... lost. He never looks like this. It's starting to scare me.

"Nobody is home but me." I confirm and he nods, relaxing a bit, probably glad my parents won't see him like this.

"Come in. I'll get you some water," I look him over again, "...and a blanket. Take your top off, I'll put it in the dryer." I hold my hand out and he smirks.

"You want me to strip for you?" He teases and I can't help my giggle. I don't think I've ever heard him talk like this, even when we were together.

He unbuttons the top button and I raise my eyebrows with a smirk. He wiggles his eyebrows at me as he undoes the next couple with a seductive look - or what he is trying and failing to be a seductive look. As he reaches the bottom, I help him pull the sleeves down his arms, trying to avoid staring at his six-pack now on display.

"I'll be right back. Meet you in the living room." I say and his smile falls slightly but he nods and walks towards the couches.

I go and put his shirt in the dryer as promised. I pause and lean against the wall for a second to take a breath before going back. This is not how I expected my quiet evening in to go.

I'm happy to see him - I am. But I have no idea why he's here. We agreed to give each other space for awhile - I expected it to be more than a month and a half.

Something must have happened for him to drink like this.

I smooth out my hair and clothes and walk back towards the living room. I hear his deep sigh as I walk in the room and I instantly know something is very wrong.

I sit beside him on the couch and turn to face him with one knee up on the cushion. He stares at the wall with no expression on his face, seeming not to notice my entrance.

"Dean," I say softly and he looks over. His emerald eyes stare intently into mine, looking for something, I just don't know what.

"Liar." He says quietly with a frown. I don't understand. Is he talking about me? He can't be. I didn't lie to him.

Who lied?

"It was all a lie." He repeats and I tilt my head at him with a confused look.

"Dean, I -" I start to ask what he talking about but he gets up suddenly.

"I need a drink. Do you have a drink?" He asks me with a big fake smile that doesn't meet his eyes, like he didn't just accuse someone of lying to him. What the fuck is happening...

"I can get you water. You sit, I'll get it." I start to stand but he raises his hand to stop me.

"No. Let's have a real drink." He looks around the room and spots my dad's scotch bottle and glasses on the side table. He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes.