Alcohol

o n e

Elijah was carelessly tossed onto his unkempt bed as Nate let out a breath of exhaustion and relief. After dragging his friend's hefty, unconscious body out of the unbelievably cramped and vile smelling taxi, he had to magically manoeuvre his way into Elijah's apartment without letting Elijah's body slip and fall onto the ground again.

Elijah was still sprawled out unconsciously on his bed with the white bed sheets tangled underneath him and his head lolled to the side. His once neatly ironed white dress shirt has now turned into a wrinkled mess with splotches of tiny alcohol stains on it. One of his black leather dress shoes is just barely hanging onto the tips of his toes as his feet are hung midair, at the edge of the bed.

Nate lazily moved his head side to side to let out the terrible tension of his muscles as a thought of participating in a competition of getting the Year Best Friend Award came across his mind. He most definitely know he would win it and he sure as hell deserve it because of the hellish process of finding Elijah through ten different bars that were diverged around town and dragging this might as well seen as lifeless, body back home.

Dismissing the thought of getting this puny award, he thought of another way of receiving his end of the uncalled 'bargain' he made up.

Nate walked over to Elijah's body and foraged through the pockets of his pants. A minute later of digging through the neverending hole, he finally found Elijah's wallet. He unfolded his dark brown leather bi-fold wallet and fished out a few, neatly folded in half pieces of fifty dollars notes and stuffing them into his pockets before placing the wallet onto the bedside table, noting to himself to text Elijah about receiving his well-earned compensation.

_____

Elijah woke up with a hell of a headache in his unclear state of a mind. He let out a grumble of pain before getting up from his awkward laying position a little too fast for a person with a hangover should, regretting his actions real soon after. His throbbing head was not in any way helping him think of last nights events. He soon grew tired and gave up on the search of his presence here, which is back in his apartment and got up from his bed, carelessly throwing his shoes onto the ground before doing so. He almost loses balance on himself the moment he stood up due to the foreign feeling of his feet touching a stable and even flooring when last night, he was sure that they were moving in odd movements, as though it would swallow him alive. It took him a few seconds to be accustomed to the feeling. Just as he was about to drag his feet to the bathroom he spotted his wallet laying on his bedside table. He looked at it in question before putting two and two together, knowing the only person who actually has the balls to take his money after doing a "good" deed of finding and transporting his drunk ass back to the apartment was Nate. His annoying of an Australian friend which he was grateful to have although sometimes he wishes that bastard was to mind his own business.

He turned around to face his bed and rampage through the dishevelled sheets that were jumbled up into what he could only see it as Mount Everest to find his phone and once found, he looked through the notifications, scrolling down and past messages of patients sending them their regards and thanks which he now wishes he had never given them in the first place before stopping onto a message send by Nate.

It says, "Took around $150 dollars for the hell you have put me through last night. You sure won't remember but it's ok. You vomited on my pants too by the way. It was f*cking expensive. So you now owe me a dinner too."

That message confirmed his doubts but knowing Nate and his way of exaggerating things, he was sure that he did not "puke" on his million dollars pants he proclaimed to have because he was sure Nate didn't even have one to start with in the first place.

He shook his head in disappointment by his friend's antics, although a small smile crept onto the corner of his lips. He tossed his phone back onto his crinkly mess of a bed before heading to the bathroom, being mindful of his pulsing migraine.