The Trials of Being Loved

Part 25 - Don't Leave, Polar Bear

Tay wobbled, staring at the empty beer cans littering on the kitchen floor. His eyes narrowed as he tried to count them and he couldn't. He opened the fridge door and sighed. No more beer... and he wanted more.

Phone... gotta get my phone. Tay stumbled to the bedroom and stubbed his toe on the bed. He cursed loudly but the lump under his duvet never moved. Blurrily, he reached for the drawer and pulled it open, grabbing the older phone.

Ignoring all the text messages, he dialed the delivery service, ordering not just more beer but also breakfast, since it was almost 3 a.m. and Newwie was an early riser. He transferred the money and sighed. He might loose his buzz before it arrived but there was no way he could sleep next to him.

Him... how he envied New for his ability to sleep. He glanced at the pill bottle and wondered if New took his pills today. He had almost forgotten among everything else but the sight of that damn bottle triggered him.

His eyes narrowed. He had perfect recall. Fucking OCD...

The desk drawer wasn't shut. The pill bottle had been moved. He glanced at New's sleeping form and took several deep breaths. It wasn't spying, it was taking care of him. Fine, I'm justifying it, but fuck it, I need to know what he's up too!

He took out New's phone and swore. When did he password protect it? He tossed it back into the drawer and sighed. The pill bottle! He picked it up and took it to the low table and dumped it out, carefully counting them. There was two more missing than there should be...

He powered up the old phone and searched out the drug, wanting to know if he should be worried. He sighed with relief. It wasn't an overdose. New would be fine. Why did he feel like crying? He looked again at the phone and sighed.

The new message icon flashing was triggering. Finally he hit the message button and blinked. He almost dropped the phone. New Thitipoom was the last message received. This phone, being an older model, didn't have a preview.

What did he have to say that he couldn't say in person?

You know what he has to say, Tay, you just don't want to hear it. After today, you can't blame New, either. Fuck it, it's either good news or bad, just open it!

Closing his eyes so he wasn't looking when it opened, he tapped the button. He heard the tinny beep and counted to three and opened his eyes. 

He blinked. Then blinked again. Okay, so it was bad news. Well, he had expected it. 

*Stayed too long. TY. See your email. New.

Tay blinked again, wondering why he was blinking so much. It wasn't until the words on the phone looked weird, that he realized he was crying. Big, slow tears were rolling down his face, silently. He reached up and brushed them away with the back of his hand.

"Not the time to loose it," He muttered as the intercom buzzed. "No, it's not. It's time to finish getting drunk. You fucked everything up." He stumbled to the door, careless of how he looked, only opening it far enough to put his arm out for the bag, snatching it and pulling it in.

He didn't care about manners, just wanting to get back to his safe space and getting a beer open. 

~~~~~~~~~~

On the other side of the door, the reporter cursed. He had paid the delivery guy a lot of cash to take that fucking bag up here, positive that it was Tay Tawan's apartment and that HE had New Thitipoom hidden in there. Every other reporter had given up, but not him. He never would, either. 

His lip curled. Because of New, he had lost his management job, spent 6 months in jail for embezzlement, and when he came out, was unemployable. The only joy he had, after he had used the ill gotten earnings to get plastic surgery in Korea, and purchase a new identity, was to destroy his life the way New destroyed his.