Bed Sheets II

51. Waste of Space

The moment Draven stepped onto his floor, his heart shattered.

It was ghosted; only four editors remained out of twenty seven, and a bunch of letters of resignation rested on their desks. It was only when he turned on the television that he realized what had caused this chaos.

Every news station were filled with reportage on Draven and Kyle's proclaimed new relationship. Kyle was seen multiple times entering Draven's building and leaving the building with Draven beside him. Even worse, an old editor had spoken to the news reportage and explained what had occurred with the senior editors as well as Hector and Sophie. Therefore, the entire country knew about the unloyal behaviour of Draven.

This caused many to resign instantly, labeling him a traitor without even saying goodbye to him. And that was why Draven barricaded himself in his office, not even working but rather simply drinking until he fell over from his seat and slumped onto the floor. He did that for days, Kyle being the only person he let inside the office since the hours of continuous sex and foreplay were the only times he numbed himself from the reality of what was occurring.

He had not released any chapters in weeks, went to work intoxicated or high, screamed at anyone left who all four eventually quit due to the horrendous amount of work and derogatory behaviour. But Draven did not care; he had not time to care. One moment he was having sex with Kyle, the next he was taking shots and buying more whiskey at the alcohol store.

He was not exactly fond of this life, but in his close-minded mind, he had no other option. Even Kyle felt his chest tightened whenever he entered the office and the stench of liquor filled his nose.

"Draven," he said, "give me your bottles."

Draven, who had been leaned over on his desk, raised his head with droopy eyes staring back at Kyle, "My bottles?"

"Yes, your liquor bottles. You've been drinking way too much—"

"Don't touch my bottles, you brat," he spat, smacking Kyle's hand as he attempted to reach for them. Kyle furrowed his brows when Draven's own movement caused him to Trimble over the chair and crash onto the floor.

He scoffed, "You're drunk everyday." As Draven was slowly returning to his seat, Kyle grabbed the bottle and shoved them in a large garbage bag, "You don't even work. You haven't released a new chapter in any of your books in weeks, you lost your agent."

Draven laughed, "Isn't that what you wanted?"

He pushed Draven's seat towards the wall, causing Draven's wheeling chair to slam its side into it. Then, he pulled open his cabinet and his eyes widened when he saw about ten whiskey bottles ready to be drank, "You're a slob." He threw them into the bag, and then faced the glasses cabinet on the walls, finding bottles hidden behind his awards. "You're disgusting now, you haven't shaved in weeks. Your beard is out of control, your hair is messed up—"

"What do you want from me, Kyle?" Draven attempted time stand but fell backwards in his seat from the dizziness. "You want a hero award? That I'll suddenly have my crew back and my family back and Eric back if I just start writing again?"

Kyle shrugged his shoulders, seeing the way Draven's eyes suddenly became teary, as if he had held all those thoughts in for weeks. He tightened his teeth, squeezing them together and he slammed his fist against the wall. Kyle could sense the agonizing emotions Draven was feeling, and gulped, "You can at least try—"

"They don't want me anymore because of you! It's always been because of you," he snapped violently.

"We got past all that—"

"You got past all that," Draven was unable to hold in the tears any longer, "I lost my team, my everything. I even became a monster to Eric which he didn't deserve; I'm a failure."

"You're not a failure—"

"You know what? Since you want to play hero so bad, then how about you get away from me and don't show your face to me again." His voice was stern, filled with coldness and the way his navy eyes pierced through Kyle's chest, as if they were meant to murder him, was enough to cause Kyle's heart to break.

He tilted his head, "You told me you liked me."

"And I lied, I just loved the sex and being dominated. But I can't be bottom forever Kyle," he finally was able to stand from his seat, and stepped towards him, "I know what I want, and you don't pass."

"Draven, you're an asshole." He dropped the garbage bag full of alcohol bottles, "You don't deserve any happiness since you just continuously break people's hearts—"

"Are you done? Let's not forget you fucked Rebecca to get some of my information. You beat Eric then blamed me on the news—"

"We got through all of this!"

"No, you got through all of that, I never did and never will." After a short pause, Draven raised an eyebrow, "So what are you still doing here?"

"I'm leaving, I'm done with you." Kyle stomped just feet towards the door, "Don't you dare even try to talk to me because you're a waste of space honestly."

"That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," Draven mocked before reaching for the garbage bag. The door slammed shut, and he grabbed one of the bottles of whiskey, opening it and instantly taking continuous shots.