Okay

.26.

"Drew." Birdie whispers my name against my lips. "You're drunk."

I tip my forehead to hers, closing my eyes tight as I try to steady my hammering heart and push away the tears that want to flood my vision.

"Sorry." But I can't get myself to pull away from her.

"Let me get you some water." She offers standing from where she's kneeling beside me and my eyes track her face upward desperately, my hand falling to the ground like dead weight.

I let myself sprawl out on the floor as she disappears from my sight, the ceiling a little distorted through the alcohol. The cool floor beneath me, sobering me slightly. This was stupid.

I shouldn't be doing this.

Not to Birdie.

My chest rises and falls like it's a labor, each breath just torturing my soul, forcing my organs to keep me alive.

I hear the quiet pad of Birdie's feet against the floor, the warmth of her leg as she once again kneels beside me and the clink of a glass as it touches the floor.

"I'll leave." I tell her, my eyes fixated on the chandelier that hangs above me.

"Why don't you drink some water first." She suggests. "I am nurse Birdie after all."

I snort, rolling my eyes but my head goes with it and I see her smiling at me.

"I don't know if there's enough left of me to fix nurse Birdie." I confess, her smile shifting into something sad.

She laces her fingers with mine, kissing the back of my hand as she holds my dead weight with both of hers.

"Sure there is." My fingers are tingling from the alcohol but it's dulled by the warmth of Birdie's skin against mine. "But maybe we should get you sober first."

A heavy sigh deflates my chest. I don't want to be sober, not right now. Not when the club is still fresh in my mind. Birdie kisses my hand again and I feel a lump settle in my throat.

I think about telling her. About how pathetic I am. But I never seem to be able to muster up the courage to spill my guts. To tell someone just how messed up my head is. How empty I feel.

None of it feels justified.

My problems don't seem big enough.

Even Birdie's gone through more shit than I have and look at her. She's still wonderful.

So I keep it all inside, like I do everything else.

"Come on, the couch is a lot more comfortable than the floor." She says.

I stagger to my feet, a slow process that causes me to grunt and groan and stumble around even with Birdie trying to help.

She slips under my arm, the glass of water in her hand as she navigates me through her place. It's a good thing she's steering because I can't stop looking at her, I can't stop focusing on anything but her arm that's wrapped around me, her fingers that are pressed into my side. I lose my balance and lean into her, the two of us swerving as we near the couch and it pulls up a memory I haven't thought about in years.

"You remember the first time we got Holt drunk, right before you left for college?" I ask.

She pushes me slightly toward the couch and I fall down on to it as she laughs. "How could I not?"

We were over at my parents, just the three of us. We had been inseparable that summer, except for when Jaelyn penciled me into her plans. Holt had been asking me a lot of questions about alcohol. What it tasted like. What it felt like to be drunk. What a hangover was like.

We were both getting ready to go off to Duke, Holt had a full ride to play basketball, I paid my way in so Holt and I could room. Really, I just didn't want to be alone and Jaelyn hadn't been thrilled when I mentioned enrolling where she went.

In hindsight she probably had a guy there and didn't want her loser boyfriend from back home around.

But we were all together and I started pouring us shots. It took Holt almost three hours to actually work up to drinking one. A couple panic attacks, a lot of apologies. But eventually he got drunk, the three of us and Blue sprawled out on the couches as we ate cold pizza and talked drunk.

I wish I could go back. Even though I know it's impossible.

The couch dips beside me, Birdie there. I just want to kiss her again but she pushes the glass of water into my hand. I chug most of it, it's cold in my stomach as it mixes with the warm alcohol and it helps to sober me up slightly.

"I'm sorry." I repeat. "I shouldn't have done this."

Her hand lifts to brush a piece of my hair that's hanging down across my forehead back. The gesture gentle and sweet and I just want her to do it again.

"I'm glad you did Drew." She says softly. "You can always come to me."

Tears pool in my eyes, Birdie becomes just a blurry silhouette. I don't know how to stop. I don't know how to save myself. If I even want to. But I know the only time I feel like maybe I can try is when Birdie is there.

"Come here." She breathes, arms open as she pulls me to her.

My head is pressed against her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart, the warmth of her skin radiating through her shirt, engulfing me as she holds me.

The tears never fall.

But I breathe in the honey and lemon that fills my nose and I let myself relax into Birdie as she runs her fingers through my hair.

For a moment, I don't feel alone.

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I know some of y'all are on the fence about Drew and Birdie but I gotta admit, sort of love it. Been hinting at for a while now, all the way back to Safe, maybe even Home but honestly I can't remember that far back hahaha.