(no subject)
Rob stumbled in the door, the stench of whiskey and booze rising off of him and assaulting Kristen's nose. He was drunk, and she was gonna have to clean up whatever mess he made-again.
"Damnit Rob!" She swore, Pushing him towards the couch. He could hold his drinks without a problem, He usually only got this drunk two or three times a year. He protested loudly, His slurred words making his british accent even harder to understand.
"EY! Wha.....whyooo yelling a' me? Wha I do?" He wobbled forward and landed face first onto the couch. He lifted his head and grinned stupidly at her. She sighed and hoisted him into a sitting position.
"I'm pissed because you are fucking drunk."
He clapped a hand to his chest in an over exaggerated movenent causing him to wobble and fall onto his side. " Tha'ss Inshulting! I'm no' dunk. I'm imbeebriated. Intocshicated." He let out a rediculous giggle.
She shoved him back into a sitting positon. "That's the same thing as being drunk, shithead."
He stared at her with unfocused eyes. "You can' keepsh your hands off me, can you?"
She rolled her eyes. He obviously had rum at some point. It made him horny. It also made him sick. Sure enough He was already turning slowly green. She propped her arms under his elbows and tugged him out of his seat. "Come on, stinky." she mumbled. He stumbled forward and collapsed against her, struggling to right himself. After releasing a loud belch He looked at her and appologised, his words filled with drunken ramblings and mumbles. She nodded as if she was listening. His words meant nothing when he was shitfaced.
She Finally got him into bed after a brief struggle. He looked at her in graditude. "Thanksh, love. God, I fugging love you....You know tha' right?"
She shook her head. "Yeah Rob, I know." She was trying so hard to be gentle, to be like him....But he had hurt her, by running off with a few whores at a guys night out. And she only knew because Jackson told her. She shoved the puke bucket into his arms and stomped out of the room before she could start crying.
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The next morning she had to nurse him back to health from his hangover.
"I'm so sorry about your shoes, love." He groaned. Some time in the night he had vomited in her closet and ruined her favorite pair of chucks. He gagged again, dry-heaving violently into the bowl she had given him. He had spat the tylenol right back up, so she had to whisper her reply.
"Stop calling me "love" okay, Robert?' She hissed bitterly. She was again on the edge of tears. More sober than last night, he picked up on it.
"What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?" He was suddenly nervous that he had hurt her....What had he done?
She shook her head. "Of fucking course. Of course you wouldn't remember it."
He was practically cowering now. "What don't I remember?"
"You decided to blow off my phone calls last night."
He wracked his brain, trying to see what...and then it hit him. She had texted him when he was out with the guys, trying to get him to come home before he got too drunk or hurt himself. Instead he had ignored her, called her a Nag, and ran off with a couple of whores. He had cheated in nearly the worst way. And Couldn't even tell her. Probably wouldn't have even if he could. How did she find out?
"Kris, I- I'm so sorry."
She sobbed quietly. "How could you, Rob? Knowing how much that would hurt me!"
"Kristen, I was drunk. I would never have done anything like that if I wasn't."
She turned to leave, then spun to face him again. "And I had to find out from Jackson! Fucking Jackson! I couldn't even hear it from you. At least your friends care enough about you and I to keep me informed!"
She stormed out of the room before he could fit in another word. Maybe she would forgive him. Maybe. But she would never forget.
"Damnit Rob!" She swore, Pushing him towards the couch. He could hold his drinks without a problem, He usually only got this drunk two or three times a year. He protested loudly, His slurred words making his british accent even harder to understand.
"EY! Wha.....whyooo yelling a' me? Wha I do?" He wobbled forward and landed face first onto the couch. He lifted his head and grinned stupidly at her. She sighed and hoisted him into a sitting position.
"I'm pissed because you are fucking drunk."
He clapped a hand to his chest in an over exaggerated movenent causing him to wobble and fall onto his side. " Tha'ss Inshulting! I'm no' dunk. I'm imbeebriated. Intocshicated." He let out a rediculous giggle.
She shoved him back into a sitting positon. "That's the same thing as being drunk, shithead."
He stared at her with unfocused eyes. "You can' keepsh your hands off me, can you?"
She rolled her eyes. He obviously had rum at some point. It made him horny. It also made him sick. Sure enough He was already turning slowly green. She propped her arms under his elbows and tugged him out of his seat. "Come on, stinky." she mumbled. He stumbled forward and collapsed against her, struggling to right himself. After releasing a loud belch He looked at her and appologised, his words filled with drunken ramblings and mumbles. She nodded as if she was listening. His words meant nothing when he was shitfaced.
She Finally got him into bed after a brief struggle. He looked at her in graditude. "Thanksh, love. God, I fugging love you....You know tha' right?"
She shook her head. "Yeah Rob, I know." She was trying so hard to be gentle, to be like him....But he had hurt her, by running off with a few whores at a guys night out. And she only knew because Jackson told her. She shoved the puke bucket into his arms and stomped out of the room before she could start crying.
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The next morning she had to nurse him back to health from his hangover.
"I'm so sorry about your shoes, love." He groaned. Some time in the night he had vomited in her closet and ruined her favorite pair of chucks. He gagged again, dry-heaving violently into the bowl she had given him. He had spat the tylenol right back up, so she had to whisper her reply.
"Stop calling me "love" okay, Robert?' She hissed bitterly. She was again on the edge of tears. More sober than last night, he picked up on it.
"What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?" He was suddenly nervous that he had hurt her....What had he done?
She shook her head. "Of fucking course. Of course you wouldn't remember it."
He was practically cowering now. "What don't I remember?"
"You decided to blow off my phone calls last night."
He wracked his brain, trying to see what...and then it hit him. She had texted him when he was out with the guys, trying to get him to come home before he got too drunk or hurt himself. Instead he had ignored her, called her a Nag, and ran off with a couple of whores. He had cheated in nearly the worst way. And Couldn't even tell her. Probably wouldn't have even if he could. How did she find out?
"Kris, I- I'm so sorry."
She sobbed quietly. "How could you, Rob? Knowing how much that would hurt me!"
"Kristen, I was drunk. I would never have done anything like that if I wasn't."
She turned to leave, then spun to face him again. "And I had to find out from Jackson! Fucking Jackson! I couldn't even hear it from you. At least your friends care enough about you and I to keep me informed!"
She stormed out of the room before he could fit in another word. Maybe she would forgive him. Maybe. But she would never forget.