I Can't Explain

Cutting Back

I woke up around 10, Roger practically on top of me. I carefully push him off of me and get up. Pete is sprawled out on his bed, fast asleep. I tiptoe down the hall and find John sleeping comfortably on the couch. I go to my room, and Keith is asleep on our bed, his hair messed up and a party hat on his bed. I smile at how cute he was. Of course, I was a little mad about him getting home so late, he had worried me sick.

I curl up next to Keith and plant a light kiss on his lips, which tasted of beer. His drinking was starting to scare me. I wanted Keith at home with me at night, not passed out in some bar.

Sometime later I wake up, and Keith is gone. I hear voices in the kitchen and the shower running. I get up and dress, then find Roger, Pete, and John in the kitchen. Pete hugs me, I think he's still a little drunk, and Roger hands me some coffee. John looks at me nervously.

"Hey, John, how was everything last night?" I ask.

John sighs. "We went to a birthday party, well, we actually crashed it, and sort of trashed the person's house. Keith did...you won't believe what he did."

I gasped, fearing the worst. "What did he do?"

"Well...he found some cherry bombs in the closet at the party we were at, and he... destroyed a toilet with them." John hung his head low.

I cracked a smile and started laughing. Wow. I was expecting much worse, but cherry bombs down a toilet? I don't know why I didn't think of that.

I continued to laugh when Keith came out from the bathroom, wearing my brown bathrobe.

"What's so funny?" He asked.

"You...never...cease to... amaze me, babe!" I try to speak but I'm laughing to hard.

"What did I do?" Keith asked.

"Cherry bombs down a toilet? That's freaking genius!" The image was burned in my brain-- I had to try this.

Keith laughed along with me,  and the rest of The Who just stood by and watched. I hoped that we wouldn't have to pay for a new bathroom for someone.

By the time noon came about, Keith was already drinking. Roger and John went out, but Pete stayed in his room playing his guitar. Keith sat on the couch, beer in hand, with me under his arm. I wanted to spend time with Keith tonight. Not drunk Keith. I sat up and took Keith's beer from him. He gave me a defeated look as I drowned the remainder of the disgusting liquid.

"The fridge isn't that far away..." Keith said as I placed the empty bottle on the the coffee table.

"I know. I wanna spend the night with you, though. No alcohol."

Keith put on major puppy-dog eyes, looking adorable as hell. "How about just a little?"

"No. None at all. I get so nervous when you drink." I confess. Maybe if I tell him how his alcoholism made me feel, he would cut back.

"Nervous? How?"

"Well, when you go out with the guys it makes me kind of nervous, worried, I guess. Worried that you'll hurt yourself, or somebody else. I mean, you're not yourself when you're drunk, right? You could do something and not know you did it." I reach up and stroke Keith's cheek, but he takes my hand and presses it to his lips.

"I didn't know...I'm really sorry, I can try to cut back, and Ill spend more nights with you, too. I'm very sorry, babe, you mean a lot to me." Keith reaches in to hug me tightly.

"You're so good to me, Moonie," I whisper in his ear. We stay like that for awhile, just holding each other.

A/N: Ill write a long one tonight (: