Memories {A compilation of Britin short stories}

Story 28: Stay

[text]: Heey, Sunshine!! I miss you but youre with him, aren't you? I just got home, but you don't care do you? You're probably listening to violn music, aren't you? I hpe you're happy with your new boyfiend... You don't have to worry about me anymore

Justin sighed as he looked at his phone. Brian was obviously drunk.

[text]: You're drunk, Brian. You wouldn't be saying any of this if you weren't. You should go to sleep.

[text]: Can't. I'm lonely. But you're happy, aren't ya, Sunshine??

[text]: Knowing you, you won't be lonely for long.

[text]: That hurts, Justin. That hurts like watching you walk away with tht guy, but hey! You don't care right?

[text]: We were never exclusive, Brian. You have no right to be upset about me walking away. You always said I was free to go when I wanted.

[text]: I never wanted you to go.

Justin felt a pain in his heart.

[text]: You should have told me. I would still be there if you had.

[text]: No, you wouldn't.

[text]: Yes I would have and you know it. All I wanted to hear from you was something that told me I meant something. But you couldn't do that. At least not sober.

[text]: I did. I did but you didn't listen

[text]: You're never going to change Brian. Not for me. Not for anyone. We just weren't meant to last.

[text]: I wanted you to stay though... I wanted you to stay

[text]: Where are you, Brian?

[text]: I'm home. But it's lonely here.

[text]: I'm coming over. I can tell you're really drunk.

[text]: I'm not drunkk. I'm just a little buzzed.

[text]: You're drunk. I'll be there in 10 minutes.

Justin put his phone in his pocket and grabbed the car keys.

Brian slumped against the couch, staring at the screen of his phone. Justin was right; he was drunk. He knew that, somewhere deep in his alcohol-muddled mind, he knew that. Hell, he was past drunk. He was downright plastered. Brian'd been drinking since he'd gotten home, swigging back gulp after gulp of whiskey, not stopping until his stock was nearly gone. He had but one bottle left, now resting between his knees, half-empty.

That seemed to be a fitting description of Brian's life since Justin had left. 'Half-empty.' Not like his life was ever half-full, of course. He'd always been the 'half-empty' kind of man, despite his usual cocky, I'm-better-than-you façade that he so graciously perfected when he was just a teenager. Nope, Brian's life had always been half-empty, but ever since Justin had left him, he seemed to be losing volume. Fast.

Brian tossed his phone aside, knowing there was nothing to do now but wait. He reached for the bottle between his legs, taking another long swig. He welcomed the burn, how it felt as it ran down his throat. He must look like shit, he figured. His hair was mussed, his belt undone. His dress shirt and jacket were thrown to the floor in a wadded heap. He'd bitch and moan about it tomorrow, but for now, Brian didn't give a shit about his designer suit getting wrinkled. His shoes had been kicked off in the same fashion when he'd walked through the door, not even bothering to untie them. He'd gripe about that too-his precious Gucci loafers-but he couldn't find it in himself to care right then.