(no subject)
Give me a sign and let me know we're through.
If you don't love me like I love you.
The last thing Eddie wanted to do was spend the day with Chuck, doing the friendly thing with PR guys and trainers. Every meeting dragged and Eddie barely followed a single conversation. It was just lucky he never listened at those sort of meetings, even when he was perfectly cheerful, or someone might've thought something was possibly wrong. Ha, possibly.
Finally back, all the afternoon spent mollifying various people he'd managed to irritate without even realising it, Eddie sat on the kitchen floor for a few minutes.
He uncapped the whiskey - Jason's whiskey - and had a small sip, a taste test. Yes, that would do nicely, thank you. That familiar burning, the warmth that followed, the promise of numbness and apathy. Just what the doctor ordered.
An hour or so later and Eddie was lying full length on the swing chair, one leg on the ground to push himself back and forth. The bottle of whiskey was half empty and cradled against his side as Eddie tried to sort through the mess.
So Jason loved Ranuccio. And Ranuccio didn't love him back that way so Jason got together with Eddie, because he couldn't have Ranuccio. How nice. He was the other option. The second choice. Fucking bastard. Asshole. He said he wanted to keep Eddie forever and Eddie should've known better. No one makes promises like that and keeps them. Shame on Eddie for believing it. Stupid stupid stupid.
Jason had wanted to tell him other things too. About being in hospital, about his grandfather, about -another deep swallow of whiskey- killing his wife. Secrets were terrible things. Jason bought him a bracelot. And he'd looked so happy about Eddie's gift. Eddie really should apologise for leaving like that. Or maybe he should ask if Jason wanted the bracelot back. Maybe he'd want to give it to Ranuccio. For whatever reason, Eddie was sure he should ring Jason. Yes. Right now. Yes.
Eddie pressed the numbers in carefully and had another deep swallow of whiskey before he pressed 'send'. Dutch courage, although if he drank much more he'd be less in need of courage and more in need of a bucket.
If you don't love me like I love you.
The last thing Eddie wanted to do was spend the day with Chuck, doing the friendly thing with PR guys and trainers. Every meeting dragged and Eddie barely followed a single conversation. It was just lucky he never listened at those sort of meetings, even when he was perfectly cheerful, or someone might've thought something was possibly wrong. Ha, possibly.
Finally back, all the afternoon spent mollifying various people he'd managed to irritate without even realising it, Eddie sat on the kitchen floor for a few minutes.
He uncapped the whiskey - Jason's whiskey - and had a small sip, a taste test. Yes, that would do nicely, thank you. That familiar burning, the warmth that followed, the promise of numbness and apathy. Just what the doctor ordered.
An hour or so later and Eddie was lying full length on the swing chair, one leg on the ground to push himself back and forth. The bottle of whiskey was half empty and cradled against his side as Eddie tried to sort through the mess.
So Jason loved Ranuccio. And Ranuccio didn't love him back that way so Jason got together with Eddie, because he couldn't have Ranuccio. How nice. He was the other option. The second choice. Fucking bastard. Asshole. He said he wanted to keep Eddie forever and Eddie should've known better. No one makes promises like that and keeps them. Shame on Eddie for believing it. Stupid stupid stupid.
Jason had wanted to tell him other things too. About being in hospital, about his grandfather, about -another deep swallow of whiskey- killing his wife. Secrets were terrible things. Jason bought him a bracelot. And he'd looked so happy about Eddie's gift. Eddie really should apologise for leaving like that. Or maybe he should ask if Jason wanted the bracelot back. Maybe he'd want to give it to Ranuccio. For whatever reason, Eddie was sure he should ring Jason. Yes. Right now. Yes.
Eddie pressed the numbers in carefully and had another deep swallow of whiskey before he pressed 'send'. Dutch courage, although if he drank much more he'd be less in need of courage and more in need of a bucket.