But she's gone by then. And he's left empty, and suddenly exhausted. He doesn't want anything else to figure out. He's been figuring this shit out for months now, and he's tired. Tired physically, mentally, and any other way that lesser men than he would admit to feeling. He just wants to crawl back into bed next to Alex, and forget about it.
He doesn't. He hates this stuff, hates his past, hates what happened - but he doesn't run. He lights a fag instead, and pours a hefty Scotch.
If there's going to be two more, bring them on. he can put up with it for one more night.
no subject
'Happy Christmas.'
But she's gone by then. And he's left empty, and suddenly exhausted. He doesn't want anything else to figure out. He's been figuring this shit out for months now, and he's tired. Tired physically, mentally, and any other way that lesser men than he would admit to feeling. He just wants to crawl back into bed next to Alex, and forget about it.
He doesn't. He hates this stuff, hates his past, hates what happened - but he doesn't run. He lights a fag instead, and pours a hefty Scotch.
If there's going to be two more, bring them on. he can put up with it for one more night.