He woke up alone. The first thought that ran through his head was that he'd cheated again, he'd given into the temptation of blonde haired boys and the promises of quick and easy sex.
As his eyes adjusted to his light, he realized he was in his own room. There was no stranger making breakfast or lunch or whatever it was, but there was no sign of Alex, either. Toby breathed out a sigh, his head pounding as he tried his hardest to remember why it had been a good idea to go clubbing.
He could only remember flashes of last night, the parts before he was too out of it to remember anything else. He could remember the way Alex had let him straighten his hair again, and the way he scrunched his nose up while he shook the dark locks out of his eyes. He could remember walking into the club and noticing the eyes weren't on him for once, but on his husband and the pang of jealousy. He could remember the first drink, the hot pink alcohol he'd convinced Alex to drink. He could remember convincing Alex to drink more before he pulled him up to dance. He could remember how hard he'd been for most of that night, because Alex had this sexy dark-eyes-behind-dark-hair thing going, and Toby had tried his hardest to stop himself from just pulling Alex into his Jeep and fucking him as hard as he could.
Toby could also remember that one boy, with bleached blonde hair and deep brown eyes, the one that had tried to make his move at the very start of the night, and had kept his eyes on Alex from his corner. He could remember how as Alex had got drunker, the boy had made his moves bolder. Toby could only remember blurred things since then, brown eyes and straight black hair. And now here he was, alone in his king bed in Alex's flat, head pounding and alone.
He wasn't even fully awake when he reached for his phone and fumbled with his speed dials and then there was a dial tone, and someone answered.
"Alex, I-Where are you? I woke up alone and-"
"Alex can't come to the phone right now. Do you want to leave a message?" A deep voice replied, and Toby squeaked, something in his chest exploding and now he's struggling to breathe, falling back on himself and shaking. His body is craving everything he hasn’t given it, food, weed, nicotine.
“T-tell him T-Toby called and-and to c-call me.” He stammered, dropping his phone as he fell backwards, hearing the tinny sounds of someone yelling at someone else and then hearing his name shouted over and over again through the tiny speaker as he shook, his breath coming in huge gasps as his eyes bulged.
It took Toby a long time to calm down, and he stayed in their room. The cats were mewing at the door, scratching and pawing and trying to come in. They hadn’t been fed. Toby’s phone was silent where it had fallen on the floor, and he tugged at his hair. He felt like he was full of glass, each movement slicing a new artery and causing a new internal bleed. Eventually, he would bleed to death.
He had found his cigarettes, the ones Alex had caught him with and hidden from him. It was a disgusting habit, deadly and toxic and something Toby was addicted to. Alex had made him promise he’d quit, and it had been nearly a year since he’d last increased his chances of lung cancer and reduced his sperm count. Toby was wishing he had weed right now, the numbness marijuana gave him something that a cigarette couldn’t replicate.
The clock was ticking slowly, as Toby inhaled and exhaled. Alex would smell the smoke. He would get mad at Toby for breaking his promise. Toby couldn’t even give Alex the ‘Where have you been?’ and the ‘I was worried sick, I thought you were dead! Oh no, you were screwing someone else!’ and the ‘Don’t tell me it didn’t mean anything!’ because he knew it would make him a hypocrite, and Alex would bring up his reputation for screwing anything that had a pulse. Toby knew whatever he said to Alex would no doubt be seen as him trying to tell Alex off for sleeping around.
He’d moved from the bedroom to the kitchen when Alex came home, half way through a joint he’d found. The first thing Alex noticed was the smell of smoke and the dilated pupils, and the spliff in Toby’s fingers.
“Good night?” Toby asked, and Alex noticed how his voice shook, how he was shaking and the red nail marks along his arms. Alex put down his bags of groceries, knowing he’d half to answer this carefully. One wrong comment, and one of them would be packing a bag.
“It was alright. What about yours? Did that beautiful blonde show you what his version of heaven was like?” Alex replied, trying his best to sound neutral here. Toby was stoned and not thinking straight. He was unfocused and hazy and would say a lot he didn’t mean and a lot he did and Alex probably wouldn’t be able to tell either apart.
“I let the blonde know that I’m taken. My night wasn’t too bad, but what really topped it off was waking up alone.”
Alex could hear the edge in Toby’s voice and he chose to ignore it, focusing on the drugs in Toby’s hand.
“Where did you get the joint?”
“Maybe not.” There was a shrug. Alex sighed, sinking into the couch next to Toby. Toby could smell the smell of someone else lingering on his clothes, and he tried his best not to mention it, as he felt Alex burry his nose into the top of his hair.
“Go and shower. At least I don’t come home smelling of him.”
Alex could see the tears forming in his blue eyes as he turned his head away, taking another draw from his joint. Alex could see how hurt he was, the pain and longing sketched perfectly onto his face. Alex knew not to argue with him, Toby obviously wanted time alone.
When Alex was done in the shower, Toby had gone. All that was left was a note.
