Caradoc breathed in deeply and grinned. It had been far too long since he had smelled something so wonderful. Regardless of his role of head chef in their flat, he had not been able to utilize quite all of his culinary preferences in their meals. That, he hoped, would soon change. This shop would do wonders for his dairy intake, as well as his fat content. And he had recently gotten paid, so he was more than ready to spend to his heart's desire.
As he browsed around the cheese shop, he picked up various blocks, smelled them, and set some back down. He couldn't buy them all, unfortunately, and Tilden would be here soon. Caradoc was sure Tilden would have plenty of opinions as to how much he should buy, and Caradoc probably wouldn't even disagree.
Caradoc's fingers trailed softly across a block of Gouda at this thought, and he paused. Tilden. This was officially their first outing in a long time. They used to everything together, but recently... Not so much. The bitterness and judgment still gnawed at Caradoc's insides, but he couldn't stay livid forever. He wanted to move past this, and he figured bro time at the local cheese shop was the best way to start.
He could see the person’s face in front of him, see the hand waving just inches from his nose. He knew they were there. He just didn’t see the point in responding. Every muscle in his body was numb. He couldn’t even feel the empty bottle in his hand anymore. But that was how he wanted it. Life was easier this way.
Whooosh.
Suddenly every nerve in his body was screaming. “HOLY SHIT WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!” The first words he’d spoken in days scratched his throat raw, or perhaps that was just his vocal chords’ reaction to an entire bottle of vodka. The ice water that was just dumped on his body had turned numbness into fire. He flailed around as he jumped out of the chair. “What the hell is your problem, man?”
Caradoc glared back. “No. I have every right to sit here and drink until I can’t see or feel anything anymore. Or have you forgotten, my fiance died?”
"Don’t pull that with me, Caradoc, I lost her too. I know."
"Fuck that, you don’t know shit. You dumped her six months ago. You bailed on both of us, come to think of it, and gave no legitimate reason other than you felt like being a terrible person. Why are you even here? I thought you didn’t care."
Tilden took a step closer until their noses were only inches apart. “Just because I didn’t want to be around the two of you doesn’t mean I didn’t care. But that isn’t the point right now. The point is you’ve been in this shrine of a flat for nine days without moving, getting closer and closer to alcohol poisoning by the second. You can grieve however you want, but I won’t let you kill yourself.”
Caradoc shoved him away at those last words. “I don’t care what you think Tilden. I don’t care what anyone thinks. Get the hell away from me.” He turned away and started walking towards the kitchen. This was so out of line he couldn’t even handle it. Turning back, he spoke again, his voice getting louder with every word. “And you know what, maybe if you actually cared you would have actually showed up to her FUNERAL.” He finished with a yell and chucked the glass bottle at Tilden’s head. Tilden ducked and it smashed against the wall behind him. “YOU ASSHOLE YOU DON’T GET TO COME BACK AFTER ALL THIS TIME AND JUST PRETEND THAT NOTHING HAS CHANGED. EVERYTHING HAS CHANGED. EVERYTHING.” His voice cracked and he cast his eyes around the room for something to throw again. Grabbing a picture frame, he threw his whole body behind the projectile.
"I HATE YOU. I HATE YOU FOR LEAVING. AND YOU KNOW WHAT I HATE HER TOO. BECAUSE SHE PROMISED SHE’D BE HERE FOREVER AND LOOK WHERE THAT FUCKING GOT ME. A DRUNK MESS WITH NO FRIENDS AND NOTHING WORTH LIVING FOR. NOTHING. SO GET THE HELL OUT OF MY FLAT UNLESS YOU CAN FIX THIS CLUSTERFUCK I CALL A LIFE."
