Bed Sheets II

53. Let's Go Home

There was no Draven anymore.

The man that appeared in bars and in clubs was not the renowned author that broke records with sales. It was not the author that many dreamed to be, inspired the younger ones and wrote magnificent comic novels that civilians fought over its magazine releases that had chapters of his comic novel.

No, that Draven had not appeared for months.

This man was kicked out of multiple bars, laid in the streets until dawn, arrested for public intoxication, was found in dark alleyways by himself, beaten by random kids, had gotten into several fights that he found himself in a hospital one morning. His life was in shambles that he was not recognizable, but he did not care. Hell, he wanted to numb himself as much as he could.

Even worse, he oftentimes dreamed about how things used to be. Walking into his office, bickering with Hector, Jason defending him, Miranda instantly asking him questions about the projects and Sophie at her desk with all the reports and meetings for that day. He even dreamed about Eric from years ago, when he was with Melissa and they would drink until dawn. That was the life he wanted and missed, which he continued to drink until he could no longer envision it.

Until one night, it was late midnight, he almost got into another fight and the manager of the bar asked the bouncers to kick him out of the place. When he was, he was pushed out of the doors and landed onto the ground, shouting at the only to be laughed at and the doors closed in front of him. He still had his bottle of whiskey in his hand, and he pushed himself upwards, stumbling and almost falling back onto the ground when he suddenly felt a set of hands catch him.

When he glanced upwards, he was shocked and pushed himself away from the person, almost falling again only to be caught once again.

"I was looking for you," he pulled away from Draven when his balance returned. He furrowed his brows when he noticed the vomit on his shirt, "We need to get you cleaned up."

Draven only stared at him, with tears beginning to leak from his eyes, completely speechless. When he reached for Draven's alcohol bottle, he let him grab it, and he threw it on the side, the bottle shattering and the liquid began leaking onto the road.

"You don't look as good as I remembered," he chuckled innocently, tilting his head to the side. "I've heard rumours about things you were doing, and I decided to come look for you. I didn't think I'd find you being thrown out from a bar."

Draven began sobbing hysterically, his entire body trembling. It was loud sobs, filled with pain but relief that at least one person in this whole world still cared for him and had not given up on him. One could hear the agony he had experienced through every single sob, every single hiccup and very time he wiped his tears, they were rapidly replaced with new ones.

"I heard your team left you too, and I know how much you care about them. Sophie, Jason, Miranda, Hector...it must've been hard for you. You didn't deserve all of that, and I'm sorry you had to experience that Draven."

Draven's fingers were quivering at his sides.

"They all still care about you; I still care about you. And I came looking for you because I know this isn't you." He bit his bottom lip for a moment before letting a smile pull his lips, "We'll get them back, we'll get everything back. We can do it, you can do it."

Draven reminded him of a kid, crying hysterically as if he had finally been saved from a monster. He could finally heart the beating of his heart, feel the tingles of the cold on his flesh, his wet boots from stepping in puddles repeatedly; he finally felt as if he was living again.

And finally, Eric tilted his head and breathed, "Let's go home."