Drowning [MPC 25 #3] (PG 13)
Feb 4, 2014 5:29:29 GMT
Post by poru on Feb 4, 2014 5:29:29 GMT
Slowly opening his eyes, Paul groggily looked around trying to figure out where he was. His head was pounding, and the light stung his eyes. His mouth felt as though a ball of cotton had been rolled up and stuffed inside it. It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling. For much of the last month, the majority of mornings began like this for him.
Squinting a bit, he tried again to get a grasp on his surroundings. The sight greeting him was an unfamiliar one. Instead of the normal walls of his apartment, there was a distinctly feminine touch to the decorations. The sheets he was currently under were a light green and the comforter was white with a dark green vine pattern running through it. Already he knew what had happened.
Looking to his left, he saw a brown haired girl lying in the bed next to him. She was naked as can be and was currently cuddling his left arm. With his right hand, he rubbed his face, numb to the thought that it had happened again. Taking another look at the girl’s face, he couldn’t recall having met her before, but that wasn’t anything new. He couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up next to the same girl two mornings in a row. Well, he could, but he drank so he didn’t have to remember.
Pulling his arm out from beneath the girl, he stretched, looking around for his clothes. The girl shifted slightly, mumbling something unintelligible quietly. The old Paul would have stayed in the bed, enjoying having a naked girl next to him, but this Paul didn’t want to have to be around these girls any longer than necessary, at least not while sober. Standing up, he put on his boxers and jeans and loosely threw on his shirt, not bothering to button it up. He felt his pants pockets, making sure his wallet, keys and phone were there. Satisfied, he headed out the door, not looking back. If past nights were anything to go by, he probably explained last night that he only wanted a one night stand with the girl, nothing more.
He walked down the stairs in a haze, his mind settling into a blank state that he had grown so accustomed to seeking. It wasn’t hard now, finding it. Since… then, he preferred residing there. Anywhere else hurt too much to think about.
Walking out of the apartment building, he took a moment to get a bearing on his surroundings. Spotting a familiar street sign, he mentally oriented himself and sighed at the realization of how far he was from his apartment. It was the weekend fortunately so he didn’t have to worry about going into work. Teaching English at a nearby middle school wasn’t an ideal job, but it provided enough of a salary that he could pay his rent and drink away awareness on the weekends. Part of him felt that he should go back to America. There was nothing here for him anymore. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to board the plane and leave. It was as if leaving meant that she was really dead. It meant that there was no chance that she could show up at his apartment with that smile that he had grown to love. It meant an end to a chapter of his life that was beyond surreal, something that no one back home would ever believe.
Hailing a taxi, he started giving the driver an address before he stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing that he was giving the old address. He still did that sometimes when he wasn’t completely altogether. That had been the place the two of them had lived for all too brief a time. Looking back, it felt as though they had only been together for an instant in time instead of nearly two years. Suddenly the driver coughed and Paul realized that he had been completely zoning out. Apologizing, he quickly gave the man his current address and leaned back into the seat, staring out the window.
The clouds above had a dark gray tint to them, a color that almost certainly meant rain. Sure enough within a few minutes of driving, raindrops started to splatter against the glass. It meant that the bars tonight wouldn’t have many people at them. Bad weather had a tendency to do that unfortunately. Then again, Paul figured, if you drank enough, you probably wouldn’t care what was happening outside anyways. He’d also have to seek out a new bar where he could drink and try to pick up women. When the crowds were low, there was a better chance of running into women he’d slept with before. That’d happened once before, and while it didn’t go too awkwardly, he found it killed his ability to talk to women the rest of the night.
The taxi slowed to a stop, and Paul stepped out onto the street, the rain soaking into his shirt. He hadn’t bothered to bring a jacket with him last night. After all, it was just one more piece of clothing that could be ruined or lost once he blacked out. The fewer things that were at risk, the better he thought. Trudging through puddles that had already formed, he went up the stairs to his little apartment.
The inside of the apartment was neater than one might have suspected for a guy in his twenties who had no female presence in his life, not anymore. Part of the reason laid in the fact that he was rarely ever there. He didn’t cook much, at least not to any large extent. The few times he had tried, it just brought back painful memories. And the way Paul had learned to deal with that pain was to drink, which did not mesh well with any concerted effort at cooking. Boiling water for ramen was about the most he could bring himself to do anymore. As a result, he ate out frequently and the small refrigerator was stuffed to the brim with leftovers. Wedged in between the take out containers were bottles and cans of beer, a necessity that Paul had to help keep the edge from forming. Some people tried to take the edge off with alcohol; Paul used it to prevent it from ever forming.
In the living room was a single couch, coffee table, and a television set. The last one rarely got used, and Paul was pretty sure that he had neglected to pay the cable bill for this month anyways. On top of the coffee table were neatly ordered bottles of liquor, mostly rum and vodka although there were two bottles of whiskey, which he had begun to develop a taste for.
Taking off the top of one without looking at it, he took a swig of it. Vodka, solid choice to start this day, he thought to himself. Lying on the couch, he stared up at the ceiling, tracing invisible lines between the patches of mold growing on the ceiling. The landlord swore they were benign, but as long as the guy lowered the rent because of it, Paul didn’t much care. If it meant it put him into the grave even earlier, then so be it. There were worse things that could happen.
It was a miserable thought to have, and he felt guilty that it even crossed his mind. His family back home would be devastated if he never returned. They loved him for some reason, something that with every passing day he understood less and less. Another swig followed, still vodka. He unscrewed another bottle and drank again. Rum this time, not bad. His head dropped back down onto the couch, eyes continuing to stare at the ceiling. Unfortunately this time, thoughts of her drifted into his head unbidden as they were wont to do.
Bi. He missed her. If she could see him now, she would be horrified. If she knew what he had been doing, she would forsake him altogether. Perhaps on some level that’s what he was trying to do. If he could become such a low and unworthy being then even her memory would leave him. Another drink followed that thought. And another after that. Somehow the bottle of rum was empty now. He thought it had been mostly full. He grabbed the vodka again, feeling the liquid running down his throat but none of the warming feeling of alcohol accompanied it. That should probably worry him, but he shrugged it off.
This had been going for far too long. If Bi wasn’t going to leave his head, then he was just going to have to do that himself. Now the vodka was finished, and the room was beyond swirling around him. A hand reached out to grab one of the bottles of whiskey but only managed in knocking it over. Somehow on the return back to the couch though, it got ahold of the other bottle and unscrewed the cap. Tipping it back, he drank as much as he could before he slammed it back down on the table. Maybe whiskey wasn’t his drink after all. Then again it didn’t hurt to try it again, and so up went the bottle. When it came back down to the table, it was empty like those other two bottles.
Dropping back on the couch, Paul could almost start to feel the whole of his body shutting down. His limbs were cold, and his vision was so blurry that he couldn’t even make out the mold he knew was supposed to be there. His eyelids felt heavy, and slowly he let them close, a suspicion sneaking through the sea of alcohol that they wouldn’t open again. He was repulsed by the idea, but even if he wanted to do something, he was past the turning point now. Even scrawling a note for his family was out of his reach. They would live their lives now wondering why and wishing they could go back to a happier time.
As the dark closed in on him, a similar final thought passed through Paul’s mind, only it was a single word, nothing more, nothing less. Bi.
OOC: Posts please! Also this is definitely *not* canon.
Squinting a bit, he tried again to get a grasp on his surroundings. The sight greeting him was an unfamiliar one. Instead of the normal walls of his apartment, there was a distinctly feminine touch to the decorations. The sheets he was currently under were a light green and the comforter was white with a dark green vine pattern running through it. Already he knew what had happened.
Looking to his left, he saw a brown haired girl lying in the bed next to him. She was naked as can be and was currently cuddling his left arm. With his right hand, he rubbed his face, numb to the thought that it had happened again. Taking another look at the girl’s face, he couldn’t recall having met her before, but that wasn’t anything new. He couldn’t remember the last time he had woken up next to the same girl two mornings in a row. Well, he could, but he drank so he didn’t have to remember.
Pulling his arm out from beneath the girl, he stretched, looking around for his clothes. The girl shifted slightly, mumbling something unintelligible quietly. The old Paul would have stayed in the bed, enjoying having a naked girl next to him, but this Paul didn’t want to have to be around these girls any longer than necessary, at least not while sober. Standing up, he put on his boxers and jeans and loosely threw on his shirt, not bothering to button it up. He felt his pants pockets, making sure his wallet, keys and phone were there. Satisfied, he headed out the door, not looking back. If past nights were anything to go by, he probably explained last night that he only wanted a one night stand with the girl, nothing more.
He walked down the stairs in a haze, his mind settling into a blank state that he had grown so accustomed to seeking. It wasn’t hard now, finding it. Since… then, he preferred residing there. Anywhere else hurt too much to think about.
Walking out of the apartment building, he took a moment to get a bearing on his surroundings. Spotting a familiar street sign, he mentally oriented himself and sighed at the realization of how far he was from his apartment. It was the weekend fortunately so he didn’t have to worry about going into work. Teaching English at a nearby middle school wasn’t an ideal job, but it provided enough of a salary that he could pay his rent and drink away awareness on the weekends. Part of him felt that he should go back to America. There was nothing here for him anymore. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to board the plane and leave. It was as if leaving meant that she was really dead. It meant that there was no chance that she could show up at his apartment with that smile that he had grown to love. It meant an end to a chapter of his life that was beyond surreal, something that no one back home would ever believe.
Hailing a taxi, he started giving the driver an address before he stopped himself mid-sentence, realizing that he was giving the old address. He still did that sometimes when he wasn’t completely altogether. That had been the place the two of them had lived for all too brief a time. Looking back, it felt as though they had only been together for an instant in time instead of nearly two years. Suddenly the driver coughed and Paul realized that he had been completely zoning out. Apologizing, he quickly gave the man his current address and leaned back into the seat, staring out the window.
The clouds above had a dark gray tint to them, a color that almost certainly meant rain. Sure enough within a few minutes of driving, raindrops started to splatter against the glass. It meant that the bars tonight wouldn’t have many people at them. Bad weather had a tendency to do that unfortunately. Then again, Paul figured, if you drank enough, you probably wouldn’t care what was happening outside anyways. He’d also have to seek out a new bar where he could drink and try to pick up women. When the crowds were low, there was a better chance of running into women he’d slept with before. That’d happened once before, and while it didn’t go too awkwardly, he found it killed his ability to talk to women the rest of the night.
The taxi slowed to a stop, and Paul stepped out onto the street, the rain soaking into his shirt. He hadn’t bothered to bring a jacket with him last night. After all, it was just one more piece of clothing that could be ruined or lost once he blacked out. The fewer things that were at risk, the better he thought. Trudging through puddles that had already formed, he went up the stairs to his little apartment.
The inside of the apartment was neater than one might have suspected for a guy in his twenties who had no female presence in his life, not anymore. Part of the reason laid in the fact that he was rarely ever there. He didn’t cook much, at least not to any large extent. The few times he had tried, it just brought back painful memories. And the way Paul had learned to deal with that pain was to drink, which did not mesh well with any concerted effort at cooking. Boiling water for ramen was about the most he could bring himself to do anymore. As a result, he ate out frequently and the small refrigerator was stuffed to the brim with leftovers. Wedged in between the take out containers were bottles and cans of beer, a necessity that Paul had to help keep the edge from forming. Some people tried to take the edge off with alcohol; Paul used it to prevent it from ever forming.
In the living room was a single couch, coffee table, and a television set. The last one rarely got used, and Paul was pretty sure that he had neglected to pay the cable bill for this month anyways. On top of the coffee table were neatly ordered bottles of liquor, mostly rum and vodka although there were two bottles of whiskey, which he had begun to develop a taste for.
Taking off the top of one without looking at it, he took a swig of it. Vodka, solid choice to start this day, he thought to himself. Lying on the couch, he stared up at the ceiling, tracing invisible lines between the patches of mold growing on the ceiling. The landlord swore they were benign, but as long as the guy lowered the rent because of it, Paul didn’t much care. If it meant it put him into the grave even earlier, then so be it. There were worse things that could happen.
It was a miserable thought to have, and he felt guilty that it even crossed his mind. His family back home would be devastated if he never returned. They loved him for some reason, something that with every passing day he understood less and less. Another swig followed, still vodka. He unscrewed another bottle and drank again. Rum this time, not bad. His head dropped back down onto the couch, eyes continuing to stare at the ceiling. Unfortunately this time, thoughts of her drifted into his head unbidden as they were wont to do.
Bi. He missed her. If she could see him now, she would be horrified. If she knew what he had been doing, she would forsake him altogether. Perhaps on some level that’s what he was trying to do. If he could become such a low and unworthy being then even her memory would leave him. Another drink followed that thought. And another after that. Somehow the bottle of rum was empty now. He thought it had been mostly full. He grabbed the vodka again, feeling the liquid running down his throat but none of the warming feeling of alcohol accompanied it. That should probably worry him, but he shrugged it off.
This had been going for far too long. If Bi wasn’t going to leave his head, then he was just going to have to do that himself. Now the vodka was finished, and the room was beyond swirling around him. A hand reached out to grab one of the bottles of whiskey but only managed in knocking it over. Somehow on the return back to the couch though, it got ahold of the other bottle and unscrewed the cap. Tipping it back, he drank as much as he could before he slammed it back down on the table. Maybe whiskey wasn’t his drink after all. Then again it didn’t hurt to try it again, and so up went the bottle. When it came back down to the table, it was empty like those other two bottles.
Dropping back on the couch, Paul could almost start to feel the whole of his body shutting down. His limbs were cold, and his vision was so blurry that he couldn’t even make out the mold he knew was supposed to be there. His eyelids felt heavy, and slowly he let them close, a suspicion sneaking through the sea of alcohol that they wouldn’t open again. He was repulsed by the idea, but even if he wanted to do something, he was past the turning point now. Even scrawling a note for his family was out of his reach. They would live their lives now wondering why and wishing they could go back to a happier time.
As the dark closed in on him, a similar final thought passed through Paul’s mind, only it was a single word, nothing more, nothing less. Bi.
OOC: Posts please! Also this is definitely *not* canon.