“Fuck…” He murmured as he continued making his way to Grillby’s. It was the only place he could think clearly.
Sitting in his usual place at the bar he smiled at Grillby and ordered his usual. He was only going to have one he told himself, then he’d go back to Ashoka.
Of course that’s not what happened. One turned into two, two turned into three and so on so on. Before he knew it he was nearly falling over as Grillby kicked him out for the night. He had to go home now.
Walking home…Or stumbling home he found his apartment and unlocked the door, but not without struggle. Getting inside it had to be about 9 o’clock at night. It was dark and he could see a light on in the livingroom.
“Ashokaaaaaaaaaaaaa~” He sang. “Are you here?” He smiled wide like an oaf, personality changing completely.
( 💘 ) - During the lapse of time Drinks was absent, Ashoka had prepared his macaroni and then some. At first, she simply finished the food and placed it in a bowl with a fork. But after the first hour, she thought that he’d probably enjoy it more if it came with some decor. Who didn’t like eating with eye-pleasing aesthetics around them? So she began looking around for whatever she could that might help liven up the atmosphere. There was the potted plant that he adored sitting in one corner of the apartment. She knew Drinks considered it as close as a friend, so she decided to bring it within eyesight of the island the macaroni and bowl were set on. And things were already looking more appealing! Now, what else could she do? Thinking about it for a moment, the woman decided doing some cleaning would go a long way. Thus she spent the following two hours preoccupying herself with dusting, putting things away, tossing recyclables and trash into their appropriate receptacles, and even going so far as to straighten out any misaligned furniture. Pestered by her soulmate all the while. She’d say thing like he wasn’t going to come back so long as they’re here, that she was wasting both time and effort, and questioned why she was trying so hard. What did Ashoka see in Drinks that wasn’t present in any other guy? In her… To which the ambassador always responded, “People do a lot of things they can’t explain when they’re in love, Cruella.” And that always shut her right up–for a while, at least. But she did eventually stop talking altogether after the fourth hour’s conclusion.
When Drinks did return, inebriated no less, it was to the scene of Ashoka sitting on a chair in front of the island. She was slumped over, resting against the cool tabletop with a makeshift vase and some freshly picked flowers to one side and a piece of notepaper to the other. A waterfall of well-brushed molten fudge cascaded down along her curved back as it rose and fell rhythmically, coming to a stop at the small dip in the middle. Her arms were tucked up and curled around her head, covering half of her visage. The note read, “Macaroni is in the microwave, keeping warm, help yourself~!” in her signature flowing script. And while not entirely a light sleeper, Ashoka was certainly no bear in the middle of winter’s hibernation. When someone burst through a door singing at the top of their lungs, she wakes up. Not pretty, either. She shot up off the tabletop with a startled noise, grasping the lip with such immediacy that it compounded upon the backwards momentum. The two front legs of the chair lifted up off the floor as the back tittered on the edge, and the back of the seat tipped back until gravity asserted its mandate upon the woman. In a fluid motion, she fell back and slammed against the neck of the chair as it impacted the tile, her whole body slanted at an odd angle due to the iron-tight hold of her hands on the counter top. “Ow…” Ashoka groaned, face scrunched up in a grimace. One of her hands finally released its grip on the lip and reached back to rub where she no doubt bruised her tailbone. Then she looked to the side and saw Drinks, her contorted features vanishing in an instant. She got back up onto her feet, standing the chair up anew before facing the man. “Welcome back, Drinks–did you get the air you needed?”
Drink went wide eye’d, immediately concerned as he watched Ashoka fall over. “Are...Are you okay?” He asked, squinting his eyes as he stared at her. He could see the dinner set and he was feeling bad again. Coming home was a bad idea but he was too intoxicated to care. Walking over to her he offered her a hand but watched as she got up on her own. Frowning, he slowly sat down on the chair opposite of the fallen one.
“Yeah. I got some air.” He slurred as he began piling on the macaroni onto his plate. He was starving. When he was sober he was never hungry, just hungover or usually coming down. Neither were fun. It was just easier to be drunk or high all the time. It made for a temporary band-aid on his life. Sure it peeled off sometimes but he could always put a new one on.
Now, if he’d stop picking at the wound maybe it’d heal.
“Did’ja miss me?” He teased, eating away at his food. God, he was starving and Grillby’s pretzels just didn’t cut it.
“Thanks for dinner, babe. It’s great.” He smiled before noticing his plant sitting near by. “Hey!!! It’s my buddy! You thought of everything!” He said, ignoring the pit he felt in his stomach. He could feel bad later, for now he was going to enjoy the ride.
