Timed to Sunday, the 28th. (for Eames)
I don't know how the fuck I got here, that night. Ninety-nine percent of the walk there is a complete blur. I kind of remember falling into a bush and staying there for fuck knows how long, but the rest? Just a big black hole of fuckin' nothing, until that morning, when I woke up feeling like absolute shit and drooling on his pillow.
So, not my finest fuckin' hour. I guess I oughta be thankful he just thought the whole thing was hilarious. My ego's fuckin' bruised, but it's not like that's anything new.
I left early, to get back to the girls, and I've been skulking around with my tail between my legs ever since. And now, I don't even know why I'm here, other than that I feel like I can't always burden Dean with this shit, and Eames... He doesn't worry. Not like Dean. Not like Charlie might. Not like the rest of them. But this...
It's been creeping up on me for days, this kind of unnamed, directionless pit of anxiety and emptiness in my gut, 'til I woke up this morning and realized why.
I thought about putting on a suit and bringing a couple of boards along, but the act of it reminded me too much of Tom. Of that first day the two of us spent out on the waves. So, I'm in a t-shirt and jeans, tired but sober, and when I knock on his door, I half expect him not to be home.
So, not my finest fuckin' hour. I guess I oughta be thankful he just thought the whole thing was hilarious. My ego's fuckin' bruised, but it's not like that's anything new.
I left early, to get back to the girls, and I've been skulking around with my tail between my legs ever since. And now, I don't even know why I'm here, other than that I feel like I can't always burden Dean with this shit, and Eames... He doesn't worry. Not like Dean. Not like Charlie might. Not like the rest of them. But this...
It's been creeping up on me for days, this kind of unnamed, directionless pit of anxiety and emptiness in my gut, 'til I woke up this morning and realized why.
I thought about putting on a suit and bringing a couple of boards along, but the act of it reminded me too much of Tom. Of that first day the two of us spent out on the waves. So, I'm in a t-shirt and jeans, tired but sober, and when I knock on his door, I half expect him not to be home.