"APPARENTLY VODKA ISN'T THE SOLUTION TO EVERYTHING BECAUSE AFTER FIVE SHOTS THE ONLY THING I MANAGED TO SLUR WAS YOUR NAME"
He sat with his back against the wall and his butt against the cold hardwood floor. He breathed deep, in and out. He opened his eyes and looked longingly at the pack of cigarettes and vodka before him. He connected his fingers together and held the together tightly, fighting the urge to grab them. He closed his eyes and did as his friend told him. Breathe, deep. You can do this.
His eyes flash across Nash's mind. Nash opens his eyes and his breathing picks up. His voice - his words play through Nash's head like a song on repeat and it makes Nash want to escape. He looks up at the bottle of vodka and shakes his head. He fights hard against the urges to drown his thoughts with vodka.
I can't do this anymore. You're... too much for me to handle. Those were his last words before he up and left Nash's life. I can't do this anymore. You're... too much for me to handle. I can't do this anymore. You're... too much for me to handle. I can't do this anymore. You're... too much for me to handle.
Nash clamps his hands over his ears trying to stop his voice that seems to be screaming at him. Breathe in, breathe out. Panic and anxiety are boiling up and over at the words repeatedly screaming at him. I can't do this anymore. You're... too much for me to handle. Nash is being suffocated by his own thoughts. Nash's lip trembles as his voice slashes and strikes at his heart, poisoning him with a never ending heartache. His words were like hammers beating his heart 'til it broke into pieces so small that they were irreparable.
Nash moves so that he's on his knees with one arm reaching for the bottle of vodka. He makes his hands into fists slams his fists down on the ground, eliciting a loud yell. He's huddled up on the ground with his head against the ground. This time, he doesn't stop the tears from falling. Nash abruptly stands up and grabs the bottle of vodka and makes his way outside. He stands on the balcony in the dark and cold December night. He shivers but doesn't move.
He wraps his fingers tightly around the bottle in his hands and looks down at it. He lifts the bottle and looks at it with a glare. He lifts the bottle to his lips and takes a deep breath. "Nash?" His sweet voice calls out. Nash blinks and holds the bottle at his lips. "Nash? What are you doing? Are you okay?" Nash shakes it off, it's his thoughts - his imagination. He can't actually be here, he left Nash. Nash takes a sip of the drink and savors the burning in his throat before the bottle is knocked to the ground. Nash stumbles backwards. He looks up and see's him. "Nash, what the fuck are you doing?! You told me you were clean!" Nash looks blankly at him. He glances at the ground and see's the vodka bottle shattered.
"Nash, what happened?!" Nash leaned against the wall and slid down. Nash put his head against the wall and closed his eyes. He put his hand on Nash's knee causing Nash to shiver. It's the cold. He said to himself. It's the cold. Don't let him affect you. He grabbed Nash's arm and stood him up. They walked inside and he stopped when he saw the pack of cigarettes sitting on the table. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He sets Nash down at the table and picks up the pack. "Do you have any other packs?" Nash lifts his hollow eyes and shakes his head slowly. He walks into the bathroom and searches under the sink, finding two more packs taped to the top. He shakes his head and a tear falls down his cheek.
"I found these," he states, holding the other two packs of cigarettes. Nash shrugs. "I.. I just want you to know that I'm here to help. I know that we didn't end off on a good note, but I'm here now..." He trails off.
Nash's fury grew with every word that came out of his mouth. Suddenly, he bursted. "What the fuck are you even doing here?! Why are you helping me? You sure as hell didn't seem to care when you just up and left my life without any explanation whatsoever!"
"I know, I just-"
"Get out," Nash states firmly, not looking at him. "W-What?"
"Get out, Cameron. I don't need you or your help. Get out." Cameron's eyes sadden but he doesn't fight back. He does as he's told and takes the three packs of cigarettes with him. Nash doesn't mind, he has more. "I love you," Cameron calls softly. "Bullshit. I hope the door hits you on the way out." Cameron lowers his head more and walks out. Tears begin to run down his face. He's caused the only person he's ever truly loved so much fucking pain. He sent him on the path to self-destruction. He's the one who left and somehow it's Nash who's paying.
Nash stands in his apartment, staring at the door. Somewhere deep down he wished Cameron would've fought harder. Nash walks over to the kitchen sink and grabs the key to unlock the liquor cabinet. He unlocks it and opens it to reveal the strongest liquors. He grabs the vodka and locks the cabinet. He walks back outside and begins heavily drinking the alcohol.
After the drink is gone, Nash can't stand. He's wobbly while walking to his room. He's dragging himself on walls and comes close to falling multiple times. "C-Cameron. Cam. Cammmmm." Nash slurs.
