Instinctual//George Daniel.

XVII: Love, Liquor and Regurgitation

(Early hours of) 2nd of May, 2013

Alison, unable to attend the show that night, concealed her absence by attributing it to a nonexistent headache. She found solace in the hotel lobby or at the bar, where she attempted to engage the bartender in the tale of her and George.

"I don't get paid enough for this," the bartender grumbled as he wiped a glass with a cloth. "Another sprite?"

"Give me a Coke instead," Alison replied, wiping the remnants of the fizzy drink from her lips.

"Scandalous," he monotoned.

Alison chuckled, returning to reality. She realized she was confiding in a bartender at... wait, what time was it? Furrowing her brow, she asked, "What time is it?"

"It's 1:13 am, dear," he answered.

At 1:13 am, she felt a tad foolish. She stood up, dusting off her clothes, and thanked the bartender. "You're a gem. Keep the change," she said, pulling out a fifty-dollar bill from her pocket and tossing it onto the table before making her way back to the hotel room.

Alison swiped her card to unlock the door, yearning for the comfort of her bed. The absence of a show the following night meant the band members would have a wild after-party. Yet, Alison chose not to attend. The sight when she enters her room shocks her.

"George, what the fuck? You're supposed to be with The boys tonight. Get out." She screams at him, his back turned.

"Oh, Alison." He turns, his glossy eyes looking into hers, stumbling over to her.

The scent of alcohol on George's breath threatened to make Alison physically ill. Concern and frustration swirled within her as she rushed to his side, attempting to steady him.

"George, what on earth happened?" she exclaimed, her voice filled with a mix of worry and disbelief.

"Oh, Alison," he repeated, his words drawn out and slurred. "I missed you. Oh, I missed you."

In his intoxicated state, George leaned forward, attempting to kiss her. Alison swiftly recoiled, denying him any chance of closeness.

"Not a fucking chance, George! I saw you today with Mikey. You better not have slept with her in my bed," she retorted, her voice sharp and laced with hurt.

"No, no, Alison," George slurred, his voice tinged with desperation. He struggled to articulate his defense, his words stumbling out in a disjointed manner. "I... I didn't even kiss her... she wouldn't leave me alone."

Alison's body remained tense as George pulled her closer, his grip unintentionally forceful. Sensing the roughness, she managed to extract herself from his embrace.

"Did you come back to the hotel on your own?" she sighed, her voice tinged with a mix of exhaustion and exasperation.

"Ross... Ross came with me," George admitted, his grip on reality fading in and out. "But I don't think he knows I'm drunk."

Alison couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment and concern. It was evident to her that everyone could tell George was intoxicated, and she wondered why Ross hadn't intervened or noticed.

"I think..." Alison paused, collecting her thoughts. "I think it was quite obvious to everyone that you were drunk, George."

Feeling the queasiness rise within him, George uttered in distress, "I'm gonna fucking vomit, Ali." With an unexpected burst of sobriety, he hurried towards the bathroom, flicking on the light switch. Alison followed closely behind, concern etched on her face, as she knelt down beside him.

The harsh fluorescent light illuminated the room, revealing the disarray of George's disheveled appearance. Alison gently placed a hand on his back.

"It's okay, George," she reassured him, her voice filled with empathy.

George's body convulsed with waves of nausea. Alison held his hair back, offering a steadying presence amidst the turmoil.

Minutes felt like an eternity as George's stomach emptied its contents, his body trembling with each retch. Alison remained by his side.

Once the ordeal subsided, George slumped against the bathroom wall, exhaustion etched across his face. He looked up at Alison, his eyes filled with remorse and self-disgust.

"I'm sorry, Ali," he muttered, his voice laced with a mix of regret and shame. "I've messed everything up."

Alison sighed, her heart heavy with a blend of compassion and frustration. She reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair away from George's face.

As George leaned against the bathroom wall, his voice trembled with a mix of vulnerability and regret. "I... I was buying you a Dashboard Confessional record," he confessed, his words laced with sincerity. "I heard you and Matty talking about them a while back, and I wanted to say sorry."

Alison's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and confusion crossing her face. She hadn't expected this unexpected twist to George's actions.

"And Mikey came over," George continued, his voice strained. "She started asking to go out drinking..  and... I thought I could make you jealous. I needed seven shots just to be able to hug her."

His admission hung in the air, filled with the weight of his misguided attempts and the consequences that followed. George wiped his mouth with his sleeve, coughing as if burdened by the weight of his own mistakes.

Alison felt a whirlwind of emotions churning within her. She understood the complexity of human emotions and the lengths people sometimes go to seek validation or retaliate against perceived wrongs. However, the pain of George's actions still lingered.

"We have a lot to talk about, George," she replied softly. "But right now, let's focus on getting you some rest and taking care of yourself."

It was the first time they'd slept beside each other in two days. Alison made sure George was turned on his side in case he got sick in the night, forcing him to take on the role of little spoon. Once she knew he'd fallen asleep, she placed a kiss on his cheek.

She missed how he felt. She missed his warmth and his flirting and the way he'd sling his arm around her, make her feel wanted.

When they were good, they were great, but when they were bad, they were awful. She still wanted some kind of consistency with George. She wanted to be his, and he to be hers. But for some reason she couldn't yet comprehend, he didn't.

So, she did what solves no problems, and she overthought. She stared at the wall, her arms still wrapped around the boy, and thought of a million reasons why he wouldn't want her.

As Alison lay awake, her mind spun with thoughts and insecurities, analyzing every moment of their tumultuous relationship. Doubt gnawed at her, questioning her worth and desirability. She wondered if she was the cause of George's actions or if there were deeper issues at play.

Lost in her thoughts, Alison longed for clarity and stability. She yearned for a love that didn't waver.