day drinking || oliver & tanner
Oliver let out a yawn. How it overpowered his face, ever consuming, as his jaws stretched wide to roar out the exhaustion and restlessness that had found residence in his frame. He had only woken up mere moments ago even though it was the afternoon, discovering himself tucked into a corner of his bedroom. Hunched over a beanb bag chair that rested there, there was a taste of alcohol coating his cracked lips and mixing with his breath. He spent the whole day burning through a few bottles of wine; hoping that the answer would lie at the bottom of the glass and then the bottom of the bottle, maybe even the next bottle.Ā
He huffed out a defeated laugh -- drinking during the day, was this what it had come to ? ā only for a yawn to overtake his body once again. He raised his arms, stretching them as he descended the staircase ( and if he stumbled a little due to a little lack of coordination, he was his sole witness and nothing happened ). He was not allowed the luxury of time today. It was getting late and he had planned to continue drinking, so he made way to his car.Ā
Oliver was a regular at Jake's for one reason and one reason only; Tanner. The drinks were just an upside that came with the deal. But that day he found himself not only wishing to see his best friend but also craving the liquor they served at his work place, something uncharacteristic of him. He enjoyed alcohol, of course, but he was by no means addicted to it, nowhere near being an alcoholic. Although his drinking habits as of late would prove otherwise. He tried despairingly to get his mind off of the party's horrid aftermath although knowing this would be the central theme of their conversation.Ā
ā Tanner ? āĀ Oliver called, cracking openĀ the door of the bar before entering -- his gait was halting like there's something wrong ( nothing like his usual walk that was filled to the brim with confidence ), he was almost walking right but there's something out of sync.Ā
He sat down at a stool and looked at the choice of liquor that lay before him. Along the wall was every hue of amber liquid in their inverted bottles; every vice that Oliver was suppose to avoid. He raised a finger to call the server, and when they did not appear he turned his head slowly ( it still stung when he did it rapidly ) to his right and then to his left. ā I swear to god, Trager, if that bitch fired you... ā he drawled, the action littered with disappointment and the particular lack of heed paid to the others sat beside him in the bar.
