CHAPTER 15
Matthew
I hadn’t done anything.
I really hadn’t done anything.
I hated this.
I couldn’t get up. There was no point in getting up. Jack could fuck off. I wasn’t getting out of bed for fucking training.
I hadn’t done anything.
I scratched at the cuts on my wrist, trying to resist the urge to do it again. Nobody would care, anyway. I’d be able to feel something. Or off myself and do Theo a favour; I’d stop ruining him. I’d stop being the annoying warm mouth ruining his life.
Fuck. When would I be enough for anyone?
I felt warm tears run down my face. I hadn’t even noticed them forming.
Why couldn’t I be normal?
When would I just be enough?
Why did he have to hate me so much?
Theo
The pub was loud.
I felt terrible.
And wonderful.
I didn't know which was actually suitable for me at the moment, but I felt a mixture of both. One part of me felt light-headed and dizzy and I wanted to puke all over the wooden floor, but another part of me was actually enjoying it, the strong liquor numbing the non stop panic and anxiety I’d been feeling since Stryker had been brought home to his dad and I’d fought with Matthew.
We hadn’t spoken since, going out of our ways to avoid each other.
Right now, I felt lighter, like I could run for miles until I just collapsed somewhere and dozed off.
I blinked a few times, trying to focus my eyesight again.
I was facing the dance floor, sitting on a stool as I leaned against the counter, elbows on the surface with my fingers wrapped loosely around a glass shot.
My blue eyes scanned my surroundings, where people were laughing and dancing with each other -grinding would be a more appropriate term.
I tugged on the collar of my shirt, trying to get some air, the humidity of the room beginning to get to me.
I glanced at the glass in my hand idly, before chugging it down in just a gulp.
Nick and Alex had insisted I come with them to drink because apparently everyone was on edge and I’d been moping around for the past few days, which was depressing them further.
God knows where they were now, though, since Alex had shouted "enjoy yourself, man!" Thumping my back before he trotted away. "Get yourself wasted, break a few hearts! Live!"
Nick was off dancing with a girl as soon as we’d had our drinks, leaving me alone to my extremely confusing and jumbled thoughts.
One of her friends started sauntering to where I was sitting, a smile curved on her red lips. I thought she looked pretty, with her long raven hair styled in bouncy curls and the knee length fitted dress hugging her figure snugly.
"What's a guy like you doing here alone?" She greeted me, lowering herself onto the stool beside me.
Pretty as she was, I wasn't really in the mood to talk to anyone after consuming such an excessive amount of vodka, or I wasn't interested in talking to her specifically. Either way, I’d rather be alone with my thoughts.
But I couldn't be rude, so I looked in her direction and gave her a smile, slightly forced.
I must have nailed it just fine if the way her eyes darted down to my lips was anything to go by.
I looked away. “Drinking.”
I could feel the smile she was giving me. "What's your name?"
I shook my head, one corner of my lips twitching at her determination. "Sorry, but I don't give out my name to strangers."
She probably pouted. "Are you sure?"
I nodded. "Yep."
I felt her hand touch my arm, and I made the mistake of glancing at her when I suddenly felt her lips brushing against my cheek.
It made me squirm uncomfortably. She had leaned forward, and I could smell the beer on her breath.
Not just beer. She was as drunk as me, apparently.
"You don't mind me giving you a present, though? "
She trailed her mouth along my ear, and my foggy mind couldn't command my body to move so I sat still, the warmth in my chest from all the drinks spreading too rapidly.
"It’ll be quick." She continued softly, her other hand trailing up my chest.
I tried swallowing the lump lodged in my throat, my fingers tightening around the glass. "I-"
I shook my head "I can challenge you to a drinking contest with me.” I said stupidly “not anything more, I’m afraid.”
She looked surprised at my words, but after a moment she recomposed herself and shrugged, grinning at me “fine, whoever gets piss drunk first, will have to pay for the drinks. Deal?"
I gave a low laugh. "Prepare to get your ass kicked."
We clinked our glasses together.
She was winning.
There was no doubt about it.
She didn't look too bad, maybe her eyes were a bit glazed over but I wouldn't know, because I was drunk as hell and wasn't sure if the glasses on the table were moving or I was simply imagining things.
I actually felt giggly all of a sudden.
I didn't remember when, but the crowd had mingled towards the both of us by forming a semi-circle and were chanting and cheering encouragements, probably betting among themselves. I was also pretty sure I’d almost toppled off the stall at least once.
With a groan, I pushed my shot away, shaking my head and sending the girl a disgruntled look; her arms were crossed over her chest, her posture screaming victory.
"It looks like I win," She gave me a two finger salute, "a pleasure beating you."
There were ooh's around us as I stared at her. Then I grinned, a pure shit faced grin. "And I'll be claiming the prize."
I wasn't sure what exactly happened, but next thing I knew I was stumbling towards her, and she only managed to widen her eyes in surprise before I crashed my lips onto hers, sloppy and all in their drunkard glory.
I dimly heard the crowd roaring around us, but I was too focused on wrapping my arms around her waist as she clutched onto my shoulders, giggling against my lips.
"Look at it this way," I tried to get rid of the slur in my voice. "We both won."
"As if."
The amount of alcohol I had just consumed made me stumble easily when she lightly pushed me back, grabbing hold of the counter to keep myself from falling. I had to blink a few times to focus my vision. When I could see again, she was smirking at me.
"Pay up."
It was safe to say that I had no idea how I got home that night.
I vaguely remembered the girl. I definitely remembered what we’d done in the dingy pub bathroom- where I absolutely hadn’t been thinking about another person of an entirely different gender.
All that mattered right now, however, was my blinding headache, dry mouth and heavy body.
I’d probably thrown up some time last night, too.
I heard the door open but didn’t turn around. “This better be important, I’m in the middle of a very pressing hangover situation .”
I caught the soft snort of whoever the intruder was.
“Wow. That’s new.”
I tensed when I recognised the voice as Dean’s and began praying that he wasn’t here to give me more shit. He sounded a little winded, but he had been out all night on border patrol and had just gotten back, so there was nothing much to think of that. He also sounded very sarcastic.
“Hey, I hardly ever get drunk.” I muttered as I pushed myself into a sitting position, keeping my back to him.
“Right. My bad. It was Stryker who was hungover the first morning at the inn we stayed in,” he shot back sardonically. His voice definitely sounded strained.
“Yep.” I smirked.
I jumped when the young man, uninvited, flopped down onto my bed, an arm covering his face and his chest rising with shallow breaths.
“Hey.” I rose to my feet “you alright?”
“Hm. Peachy.”
I frowned, scrutinising him silently. His posture was stiff, the arm over his face ended in a clenched fist and his skin looked pale.
“You don’t look peachy.”
He jumped. His hand flew to his left side.
I raised an eyebrow as Dean slowly looked at me. “What was that?”
“Nothing.” He replied bitterly “it was nothing.”
I scowled “liar.”
“I-“
“Let me see.” I didn’t know why I cared. I didn’t. I was still traumatised by what he’d said and the ridge it had put between Matt and me. Because of me.
“Theo.”
“Dean.”
We stared at each other, eyes narrowed. Then Dean let out a frustrated growl and turned his narrowed eyes to the ceiling.
“Matt’s been rubbing off on you.”
I had to hold back a flinch, clenching my jaw and taking it as permission to pull his shirt back, grimacing when it stuck to the spot.
“Is that blood?”
Without turning his glare from the ceiling, Dean grit out “how would you like me to answer that question?”
I blinked “honestly?”
“Then yes, Theo, it’s blood.”
There was a deep cut there, at leat five cm long, obviously inflicted by a blade.
“The fuck did you do?”
“Got fucking stabbed. Some drunkie during patrol, I dunno.”
“And you weren’t gonna tell anyone?”
He grunted. “It’s fine,” he breathed “it hardly hurts.”
“You’re shit at lying.” I pointed out “what the fuck were you expecting, coming in here? That I wouldn’t notice?”
He opened and closed his mouth twice before muttering “I actually…came to apologise.”
I was momentarily stunned into silence.
Dean pushed himself up, chewing his lip nervously “I…” he inhaled deeply “don’t want to hear a word about this afterwards. Don’t want this conversation to leave this room. Okay?”
“If you promise to let Octavia check you out then yeah, sure.” I replied, if a little shakily. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I hadn’t exactly done loads of talking with Dean.
He nodded “deal.”
“Deal.” I waited for him to proceed.
“I’ve been…observing, you and Matt.”
My heart was immediately in my throat.
“I…I just…got jealous?”
What? I wasn’t expecting that; I wasn't even really sure what he meant by it. The confusion must have shown.
“I used to have what you two appear to have.” He whispered. I blinked. Was this Dean…coming out to me? Was that something he was allowed to do? How could he trust me enough to do that? How was he gay? Of all people, Dean... was wrong too?
“-and it didn’t end well. The…head in the cupboard story that Stryker told me he told you? Wasn’t a mission. It was…” he trailed off, didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. I understood. I felt sick. I didn’t want to even imagine something like that.
“I…”
“Don’t.” He exhaled through his nose “I was trying to warn you to be more careful, but it came out wrong and now you haven’t…
spoken since, it seems, and I was feeling terrible about it and I was supposed to apologise before I left on patrol but you were out drinking and now I’m coming to apologise with a poorly concealed stab wound but… yeah.”
I nodded slowly, taking his words in, still in shock. “I…don’t, um…I’m not…”
“Don’t tell me it’s not like that.” He laughed edgily “that would be…wow. Extremely awkward. For me.”
I shrugged, feeling lost “it’s complicated?”
“Tell me about it.” He laughed softly, but he appeared done with the conversation, standing with a wince “so this…stays here, yeah?”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Stryker.” He raised an eyebrow “obviously.”
I felt relieved. At least I didn’t have to carry the burden of being the only one with that knowledge.
“Cool.” I whispered “right. Yep, stays here. Go get checked out.”
He tried for a smile and slipped out of the room.
I sat down on my bed again, head reeling and incredibly unsure about how to feel.