he doesn’t blink until eyes burn & he’s no other choice but to do so. the alcohol is heavy in his guts , hot. it spreads through his body like a burning blaze but it’s not his savior tonight. it isn’t numbing enough , still leaves the butterflies aflame in his stomach. he stands , the bottle falling sideways off his lap & onto the floor , spilling. of course. because nothing in his fucking life could go right , nothing he did was ever without ruin. he bends to grab it , downs what hasn’t escaped before throwing the bottle as hard as he can. the thud & shatter of glass against the closest wall relieves some sort of tension , makes him calm enough to slow his breathing. when had it gone so rapid in the first place?
his phone lays forgotten on his bed , thoughts only on relief of some kind - & what a fucking idiot he was. WHAT WAS HE HONESTLY EXPECTING? he knew what he wanted of course , for the guilt he was feeling to finally be lifted as the burden it was from his shoulders. but now… it really couldn’t be this simple. the gnawing at his heart was enough for him to know it. he reaches his drawers in two big strides , hands clumsy to open them quick , force a little too hard as he jerks it from the dresser. clothes fall to the floor with a curse , ire growing larger with each unfortunate mishap. it really wasn’t his day , his year. his life. his vision is blurred , hands grabbing & pushing aside garments with frustration until the clear baggie he’d been looking for comes into view.
& more importantly the white pills inside.
the sound of it snapping open brings a satisfaction he finds familiar , eyes cast briefly over his shoulder to where is phone still lays silent… was she going to message him back at all? IT’S FUCKED UP! all of him , every last thing that goes on inside his head but it doesn’t mean… it doesn’t mean being ignored hurts any less. makes the reality that he may never get the chance to apologize properly more bitter. he’s swift to turn his attention back to the task at hand. an ease to the mistake he’d just made. to the one he still wanted to make. an sort of excuse for the reason he was so fucked up in the first place.
his desk is another three steps away & he trips on the second , catches himself on the back of the chair with another curse as he pulls it out & sits. it’s familiar work , crushing pills. they’re always messy , even more as the alcohol seeps further into his bloodstream , as his vision remains hazy no matter how many times he blinks. this should help though , should bring him down - should put him under the seas. out of this eternal conflict of misery : of guilt. of all the fucked up shit he’s done. / the sudden buzz of his phone causes his head to snap in it’s direction as though connected by a cord.
… was it really her? it could only be… as of late his phone stayed unusually silent. after all that had happened. he rises from his chair , crosses his room to his bed quicker than he’d ever admit. his shin knocks hard into wood but it barely registers as he sits heavy upon his bed , vision blurred but still able to read the words across the bright screen with almost mocking ease. & HIS HEART SINKS FURTHER ! trying to be ok but not quite. he can relate to that better than he’s ever let anyone in on. it’d been so long since he’d last felt even akin to that he doesn’t remember what it’s like anymore. but the subtle subtext is there. he’s probably the reason that she isn’t , the cause of her strife - he feels nauseous again , acid climbing up the back of his throat.
his phone buzzes in his hand this time , nearly causes him to drop it in surprise.
this time the words bear claws & teeth that wound deep. send him stumbling back to his desk , phone tight in hand. he ignores the seat entirely , doesn’t bother checking to see if everything is fine white powder before he’s reaching for the straw hidden in his cup holder. before he’s snorting as much as he can as it drips down the back of his throat & makes him gag until he’s forced to stop. & the rush is near instant , smacking him full force in the face as he steps back to regain what little of himself that he can. he shakes his head , ears ringing though he isn’t sure if that had started before or after the pills. he shakes his head twice & the world flickers. first too bright then too dark. he isn’t sure entirely how he finds his bed but when he does he falls flat on his back , chest rising & falling rapid once more.
WHAT THE FUCK WAS HE SUPPOSED TO SAY TO HER? was there anything that he even could that wouldn’t fuck this up further? the voice in his head doesn’t sound entirely like him but it’s condescending , reminds him that he’d done this all to himself. he was the reason , the cause. because he was fucked up , because no matter what meds he took & what doctors he saw , he always would be the problem of it all. the origin. & the only way to remove it was to take it from the roots. / his thumbs feel like weights as he tries to reply. what he wants or not , the only good thing for him to do was give her what she wanted , right?
[ TEXT ] sorry ryy kate
[ TEXT ] dont ddo any thin right
his head feels underwater , his mind lost beneath the waves. the darkness swells , rises up , up , up. it calls out to him , lulls him closer to it.
she finds herself asking that question a lot. she wishes she could tear her words from the air and shove them back into her mouth sometimes. her hands are shaking now, she has to sit up, take in a deep breath to try and control her breathing. breathing exercises help, sometimes. in front of kate, her phone glows bright - the only other light in her room is from the lamp, sitting atop her desk. she is tempted to turn it off, to block out the world, stay burrowed underneath her covers for a day or so. speaking to him - it brought bad memories. things that she willed herself to forget. she goes through sleepless nights, just so she won’t have to dream. there are stark moments, there are blurred ones, the click and flash of a camera, and deafening silence. as if water has filled her ears, trapped her. it’s more frustrating than anything, she isn’t sure if she wants the memories for her own, or if she wants them to go away all together. while lost in her thoughts, she blinks furiously, feels another few tears escape. each other fall into a different path, clinging to her cheek, staining her clothes, pooling into the fabric of her sheets.
she’s sure that isn’t his objective though. making her cry like this. and she’s also sure that he’s drunk, that this doesn’t mean much of anything. he will not remember any of this tomorrow, and if he does, he may delete the messages. duck his head whenever they may walk past each other in town, avoid her at all costs. because who really wants to look their demons in the face. certainly not nathan prescott.
but he stars in her dreams sometimes too. his voice, his hands on her shoulders, the blurred lines of his face that she could never seem to focus on.
hastily, kate sits up, lifting her sweater from underneath her chin to wipe at her face. the skin of her cheeks feel raw. she’s not able to dwell on anything for much longer though, her phone makes a delicate DING! and then another only a second later. her eyes are wet, it takes a moment for her to focus. she presses the heel of her hand against her left eye, pushing fingers up further to brush back hair from her face. never has she felt so - drained. she’s tempted to sleep, but it will only elude her, especially after a night like this. like his other messages, these are hard to read and understand, and she hesitates her fingers over the screen.
he had avoided her question earlier, diverted it back to herself. like most people do in her life - she could simply ask someone how their day may be going, and they’ll turn the question right back around, only with a little more sympathy and concern. she feels like she’s still a patient, enclosed in the hospital walls, surrounded by decaying flowers and flat balloons. she feels as much of the mess as everyone thinks, like one false move will make her shatter, break apart again. kate doesn’t know if she can help it, doesn’t know if she can stop it from happening. at times like this, when her shoulders feel a little too heavy, she wishes she hadn’t let max talk her down from the edge.
[ TEXT ] you’ve been drinking.
she inhales, breathing catching in her throat, and when it comes out - there’s this strange sound coming from her. wheezing, whimpering sounds that she tries to quell as quickly as she can, holds a balled fists to her mouth and bites into the fabric of her sweater. she doesn’t want to wake anyone, they worry enough as is. she cannot do this, she cannot talk to him - not when his words mean nothing, not when it will all be gone tomorrow.
[ TEXT ] please get some sleep, nathan.
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