Overdue - A Rockstar Romance

Chapter 40 - Phoebe

"I'm so sorry, we didn't know what else to do. He kept talking about you." Erik apologises as they welcome me into the flat.

It's not exactly what I'd expect from a group of boys. It's cleaner for one.

Large and open planned with a sort of concrete and industrial look to it. I think I like it but it's cold in comparison to the cottage I grew up in.

I shake my head, "Don't. Don't apologise. I knew something was off when I left him. I just didn't know he...he was an-"

"An alcoholic?" He supplies, "Yeah we went to great lengths to hide it but I wish he had told you so you didn't find out like this."

A loud crash sounds from another room and I flinch before refocusing on what he's saying.

"He's probably not going to remember this in the morning but you should know that he can be pretty horrible when he's like this. I'd understand if you didn't want to go in there."

Another crash sounds and I steel myself, "No, I need to see him like this. I'll help if I can."

He nods and I see something like respect in his eyes before he leads me through to a door. It's quiet now and I half wonder if he has fallen asleep.

Then the door clicks open and I'm greeted by familiar eyes that are now bloodshot and unfocused.

"What the fuck are you doing here." He snaps.

Apparently he's more aware than he looks as he takes a wobbling step towards us, hand gripping the bed frame for support.

"Your friends called me Elliott, they were worried about you." I reply softly, slipping into the room.

It's decorated in dark greys and reds, LED lights flicker around the ceiling and from the huge computer set up. I didn't take him for a nerd.

"They shouldn't have." Is that remorse in his tone.

I give Erik a little nod and he pulls the door half closed. I appreciate the fact it isn't fully shut.

I don't think Elliott would hurt me. But then again I didn't think he was an alcoholic either so this is something of a learning experience for us both.

"I want to help if I can." I say as gently as I can stepping towards him.

"You can help by getting me another drink. The lads cut me off." He laughs, sounding a little hysterical.

"I think you've had enough." My voice is firm and steadier than I feel.

"Yeah, I've had enough of dumb bitches thinking they can tell me what to do." He explodes without warning, stumbling away from me.

My eyes widen in shock. He's not just changed by the alcohol, he's a totally different person. Now I know why he stopped drinking.

"I don't need to stand for this." I hiss as he tries to move me from where I block the door.

"Then fuck off. No one asked you to be here." He slurs, stumbling back into the wardrobe which rattles with the impact.

"If you wanted attention you should just pissed yourself like other children do." I huff, folding my arms.

"Attention? You think I want you here? Want you anywhere in my life?"

OK, that hurts. I fight down the pain before he can see it as he voices my worst fears. This is the alcohol talking. It doesn't make it right or OK and it doesn't make it hurt any less but it does go some way to explaining it.

"Enough. You are drunk yes, but you can't speak to me like that." I say firmly, unable to hide the disappointment in my voice.

He rolls his eyes, "What you going to do about it?"

"What I am going to do is stay right here and deal with your crap because I love you. What I am going to do is get you through this with the guys because we care about you. What I am going to do is still be here in the morning because I want space but I am not going to let you push me away like this and hurt yourself." With each impassioned point I step closer to him and for a moment I think he is going to reach out and hug me.

But he doesn't. With a yell he turns and slams a fist into the wall and I move back to the door and rest my back against it. It's going to be a long night.