A Coalition Story

Unrequited Love

Atticus should have slowed down on the drinking. He knew that, but between his father and Ravyn chasing after that good-for-nothing-other-than-a-quick-lay Lev, Atticus had needed the alcohol to forgot how terrible (stupid) his life was. At the very least, he needed it to numb the pain from his father's harsh words and beatings and to forget that he was in love with his best friend. So here he was, tie loosened and hair askew, downing drink after drink of whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. His plan seemed to be working, with his mood lightening and his thoughts growing hazy with indifference. At least, it was until he caught sight of Ravyn making her way towards him with a scowl on her face.

"Alright, Blackbourne, I think it's time to get you back to your room," Ravyn said in the way of greeting, reaching for the glass in his hand and setting it on the tray of a passing waiter. Atticus pouted.

"Hey! I was drinking that!" He tried to follow after the waiter to grab it back, but Ravyn's hand on his chest stopped him.

Atticus could have easily pushed past her, but the comforting feeling of her hand on his chest caused him to stop dead in his tracks. He glanced down and pouted at her unamused (and probably upset) face. He hated when Ravyn was annoyed or angry or upset or any other negative emotion, especially when that emotion was because of him. So rather than continuing to argue with her, or force his way past her and back into the thralls of the party, he allowed Ravyn to wrap an arm around his waist and lead him outside.

"You're upset with me," he observed as the pair walked towards the dormitories. He frowned. "Is it because I'm drunk? Or because I was in a foul mood earlier?"

"Can it be both?" Ravyn countered back angrily. Despite the urge to sass her back, Atticus kept his mouth shut the rest of the walk. Even drunk Atticus knew better than to poke at an angry Ravyn.

Ravyn helped Atticus unlock his door and ushered him inside. While Atticus stumbled forward, kicking off his shoes and haphazardly discarding his suit jacket and tie, Ravyn remained near the door with her arms crossed. Atticus assumed that meant she was going to be leaving soon. Probably to go find Lev.

Atticus felt his blood boil at the thought.

Ignoring the way Ravyn glared at him, Atticus fumbled his way to his stash of liquor and poured himself a glass of whiskey. More alcohol was needed to rid his mind of the thoughts of Ravyn and Lev.

"If you pass out, I'm not going to catch you."

Atticus glanced up at Ravyn, an easy smirk pulling its way onto his face. He took a generous gulp before he continued to rid himself of his formal attire. First the cufflinks, then the belt, then untucking his shirt and the undoing first few buttons. Atticus was starting to feel much better.

"If you think a little bit more whiskeys gonna do me in, then sugar you don't know me very well," Atticus teased, winking over at his best friend as he plopped onto his bed.

Ravyn merely rolled her eyes before finally moving further into the apartment. Atticus watched lazily as she rummaged through his fridge before throwing something straight at his head. If Atticus wasn't used to this sort of behavior from Ravyn, her deadly aim would've caused the bottle to hit him square in the nose. But his best friend was rather predictable, at least to Atticus. So Atticus still managed to catch the bottle just before it hit him, even in his intoxicated state.

"Drink that, or I will pry your mouth open and pour it down your throat," Ravyn instructed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Atticus finished off his whiskey, but then obliged Ravyn's request and took a sip of the water. He knew better than to doubt her threats. The two sat in silence for a few minutes as Atticus drank his water. Silences between them were rarely uncomfortable, given how close the two of them were, but Atticus could tell that Ravyn was frustrated with him and it was putting him on edge. He wanted to diffuse the tension but didn't know where to even begin.

Thankfully, Ravyn tried to diffuse it with a question.

"So what did your dad do this time to warrant such extreme drinking?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

Atticus frowned. Strangely, his father didn't have anything to do with this bout of alcoholism. Well, that wasn't entirely true. His father always had something to do with Atticus' bad habits. But he hadn't done anything out of the ordinary to spur tonight's behaviors. Tonight's drinking was almost entirely due to Ravyn's poor choice of men with just a dash of daddy issues.

But Atticus was too tired to venture down that rabbit hole again. Having the same argument over and over and over with your best friend can be exhausting. Having it again right now, while Atticus was at a disadvantage because he was drunk and starting to hurt, was not going to change anything. So instead of telling Ravyn the truth, or at least the whole truth, Atticus shrugged.

"Just his usual bullshit. Y'know, how I'm a huge disappointment, I'm never going to make it far in the Coalition, I'm never gonna do anything notable, I'm a worthless son, my mother would have hated me, yada yada yada. I'm still just his punching bag... Figuratively and literally."

Ravyn offered the closest to a sympathetic smile as she could (really it looked like a grimace, but Atticus had become adept at reading Ravyn's facial expressions). Atticus shrugged again, scooching over in his bed and patting the open spot next to him. The spot reserved for when Ravyn crawled her way in and cuddled him. The spot that would only ever really belong to Ravyn because Atticus would always have a spot for her in his life.

But Ravyn just shook her head, patting Atticus' hand before standing up and straightening her clothes.

"I'm going back to the party. See if I can catch up with Lev. I'll check on you tomorrow, Ace," she promised, offering him a soft smile (sort of) before leaving.

Atticus sighed. Being in love with your best friend was the worst.