Method Acting || Joe Keery

T H I R T Y F O U R

A blaring alarm rings through my room at a volume I didn't think my phone was even capable of.

Barely able to open my bleary eyes, I lean over and move my hand around looking for my phone.

I hear a crash hitting the floor, and pause before cringing to myself.

I peer over the edge of my bed to assess the damage. The alarm still blaring in my ears. I'm going to need to double check that alarm volume.

Sure enough, I knocked over the bottle of wine I'd brought in the room with me last night. Thankfully, there wasn't any left in it to spill onto my floor.

I turn to my bedside table and pick up my phone which is sitting in the exact place it always is, and turn off the alarm.

My head pounds with each movement, and I press my fingers to either side of my temple and apply pressure.

I hadn't meant to drink so much last night, but each glass of wine washed away the pain I was feeling so well, that eventually I got sick of getting up for another glass, and just brought the bottle in my room with me.

I gingerly walk to the kitchen, trying to appease the pounding in my head with slow and deliberate movements. Then, I find my aspirin.

As I listen to the fizz of the aspirin dissolving into the water, I watch the bubbles form around the tablets as they turn smaller, changing the water into a concoction that will quell the blaring reminder of my bad decisions that is the pain in my head.

I shouldn't have drunk so much. Ever since that episode at Joe and Gemma's house, and with what happened with my brother, I'd tried to be very careful with my drinking.

I know that drinking my pain away is a bad sign. I know that addictive personality runs through my family in the same way that sportiness or musical talent may run though others.

But I needed something to quieten my brain.

The party was 4 days ago now, and every waking, sober moment had my brain wandering back to that night and the morning after.

I think about how things could have been different. If I'd made one different choice. I wonder if I chose the right thing in breaking up with Joe.

I can't think about that. I swallow the aspirin down quickly, before rushing for a shower. I can't be late for work.

*****

I sit on the familiar couch in the empty break area, resting my head against the back rest. I breathe in and out slowly, trying to breathe through the lingering nausea.

"You look like you could do with this," A familiar Australian accent breaks the silence.

I open my eyes, and slowly lift my head to see Dacre. He gives me a grin, but his eyes look sad.

I notice he's handing me a barista coffee, and I accept it gratefully. The instant coffee here isn't awful, but doesn't quite hit the spot in the same way.

"Thank you," I tell him in my most appreciative voice.

Dacre nods, and takes a seat next to me while I take in a long and appreciated inhale of the caffeinated vapours.

This drink was sent from the heavens, surely.

Finally, I take a long sip, then rest my eyes back on Dacre next to me. He's still giving me that same sad look, which he tries to cover up with a faltering smile.

I wonder if he's sad for me, but I don't want to think like I'm the only one having problems. He has his own life too.

"Are you okay?" I ask him.