Bed Sheets II

56. Old Habits

Although Draven had agreed to the commitment and rules given by Eric, and it seemed to slowly begin working, he still had trouble maintaining the pattern. It was a process that both of them knew would be difficult, and fights amongst one another were slowly becoming harder to avoid.

Draven cared about all that was occurring, along with regaining his author position and re-grouping his team members. However, he still had old habits that were difficult to avoid in many instances.

After two weeks of continuous grind, Draven had said he was headed to buy a few snacks from the convenient store down the road. That was the only time Eric would allow him to be alone, since Eric always watched him to make certain there was no alcohol or booze entering his system.

Hence why, it was only natural for Draven to take advantage and buy a pint of whiskey from the convenient store, as well as a pack of cigarettes. He remained in his vehicle and chugged the pint, and smoked one of the cigarettes before hiding the evidence underneath his seat. Unfortunately, he had only cared about the physical evidence, that he had not paid attention to the smell oozing from his pores and how every exhaled caused a scent of cigarette to invade the space.

The moment he entered the home, with a bag of snacks, Eric felt something off from his stance and his sayings. He was talking abnormally fast, as if to hide something he had done, and he was talking way too much.

Eric gripped his chin and met his gaze for a moment, before stepping backwards while shaking his head. His face began contorting, his jaw tightening and his teeth beginning to grind against one another. And in a low cold tone, he hissed, "You smoked and drank."

"No, I didn't—"

"Don't lie to me," Eric spat, "because that's even worse."

Draven paused for a moment, sighing. "Okay, I did but it was only—" Eric stepped away from him without listening, returning to the kitchen where he had been making meat sauce for boiled pasta. Draven noticed the gloom following behind Eric, and he entered the kitchen as well, "Eric, I just needed something to—"

"It's okay," Eric breathed quietly, but his tone was filled with dryness that Draven knew it wasn't, and he was only refraining from saying anything since he didn't want to hurt either of them.

To which Draven said, "No, I know it's not. But at least talk to me about it."

Eric shook his head, "I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed." That stung in Draven's heart. "You should be wanting this more than me," he faced Draven, his brows furrowed, "I only came back to help you since I clearly love you, Draven. But if you don't care to get yourself back together, then why am I even here?"

"I do want this more than you, and I do care."

"Then you know what the rules are—"

"I'm not a kid, I can control my drinking," Draven snapped.

To which Eric scoffed and turned away, "You're right, my mistake."

"Why aren't you saying anything?" Draven shouted, causing Eric to flinch. His breathing had strangely grown heavier, and he pointed to his own chest, "Argue back with me. Tell me I'm wrong!" Instantly, Eric met his gaze and Draven's gaze seemed as if he was suffocating. He held his chest tightly, and his eyes were filling with tears, "Do I not matter enough to you?"

Eric was shocked; Draven was still experiencing the anguishing pain that he felt two weeks ago, except with the rules, he had no means to numb them. Instead, he had to face them and learn how to life with those emotions, and it had been strenuous on him. Hence why, Eric tilted his head and asked, "Draven, are you okay?"

Draven's face contorted in confusion at first, but then Eric noticed how more tears invaded his eyes and they began leaking over his eyes sockets. To which Eric widened his arms and stepped towards him, wrapping his arms around him for a warm comforting embrace, "We'll get them back, we'll get everything. So cry now, but there's no crying tomorrow."