L’Avalon
August 20xx
11:43PM
11:43PM
“Drinking isn’t going to help you – or your
heart – that much, James.” Drake Soledad eyed the other male uneasily as the
blonde downed his nth bottle of beer (probably his third or fourth, judging by
the other’s poor state of emotional stability when he had called for Drake to
accompany him to the bar). “And to think you have a shitty tolerance for
alcohol.”
As expected, the other blonde ignored him
as he continued to drink his feelings away. Grimacing, Drake discretely took
out a sleek, cellular device from his coat pocket and immediately went to his
messages, texting up one of his trusted friends and teammates. SOS, he
typed quickly, James is fucking up his
liver again. I guess you might have heard the news from Carina.
He had barely put his phone back into his
pocket when it gave a soft ping noise;
Drake opened it up and saw the reply immediately: I heard. Where are you guys? I’ll get to you asap. Drake sent the
address and sighed, this time leaving his phone on the bar counter next to his
glass of water. Unlike the other guy, Drake much preferred staying sober at all
times and not destroying his body piece by piece.
Then again, he also felt bad for James.
Judging on the nearly undecipherable texts he had sent him, Drake assumed that
what had happened was either really, really
bad or really, really heartbreaking.
Then again, the male thought with the
grimace still on his face, this is both
really bad and really heartbreaking at the same time. Considering that the
guy’s been in love with Carina for the longest goddamn time.
“I asked Lyra to come over,” he told James.
“You okay with that?”
The other barely responded, only covering
his face with his hands at that point. His shoulders gave a small quake and
Drake’s golden eyes widened before he snatched back his phone and proceeded to
beg Lyra to come faster lest the other male start crying on him in a
semi-drunken state. “Fucking shit,” he swore quietly, proceeding to throw
worried glances at the entrance of the bar while awkwardly comforting his
friend at the same time.
It took a good ten minutes until the door
of the bar burst open, Lyra Vega immediately entering the area and spotting
them with her grey eyes. Drake knew that the lady was enraged at first (he
having told her what happened via text while she was on the way there), but
upon seeing the state that James had ended up in, her gaze softened. “James,”
he caught her murmur in a sad tone, Lyra immediately hopping onto the stool
next to his and hugging him as tightly as she could. Drake watched them both
with an unidentifiable expression and called for the bartender to get another
water for Lyra.
From his position, James was still covering
his face and shaking. Lyra looked more and more upset as she watched, this time
tissues in her hand and holding them out to James. She and Drake exchanged
glances and immediately Drake knew that it would be best if they left soon.
“We’ll get you home soon,” she whispered to
him, but James shook his head wildly. James attempted at saying something, the
other two barely making out the word don’t
before erupting into another around of probable tears and endless
self-loathing. Drake cursed out loud at that point, Lyra looking at him pleadingly.
“Can you–”
“No need to ask,” Drake sighed. He gestured
towards the glass of water in front of the female, “Drink some water and then
let’s go. I’ll just pay for whatever the total cost is.” Biting her lip
uneasily, Lyra followed regardless and soon went back to comforting James as
much as she could.
Eventually, it ended up with the two
escorting him out and settling into Lyra’s car. James was left in the back,
wanting the entire backseat row to himself, while Lyra took the wheel and Drake
ended up calling shotgun. It took them a couple of minutes to strap James in,
as the other was still moping and obviously unhappy at the day’s events. When
the time came for Lyra to drive them to Drake’s place, James was already conked
out.
“Better have him passed out then crying
about the whole thing,” Drake muttered. He was currently replying to Carina via
text, the latter asking if James was all right. Drake wondered if telling the
truth was the best but eventually covered the truth up and instead made a bullshit
story of how James had to unwind before another of their missions. “He was much
worse a while ago, I swear…I didn’t actually think that he’d end up crying.”
“He’s drunk,” Lyra answered quietly. She
paused at a stoplight and ran a hand through her lighter, nearly platinum
blonde hair. “James is really drunk this time. He’s out of it. I think the
whole thing hurt him this much.”
Drake paused, eventually sighing and
tucking his phone back into his pocket. “…he loves her that much. Yes?”
Lysa said nothing.
The stoplight turned green and they drove
on, neither of them saying anything else and merely listening to the sound of
James’ breathing from behind. Neither of them brought up how the sound of
breathing eventually turned into the sound of sobbing.
* *
* * *
Soledad Residence
12:54AM
Lyra parked her car, unfastening her
seatbelt after. Drake had gotten out and was now opening the door nearer James’
side, the man quietly muttering for the other to wake up. She got out as well
and walked to where he was, watching as Drake eventually shook his head and
supported the other man himself. “Ly, keys are in my pocket. Can you open the
door for me?” she nodded and fished them out quickly, soon using them to open
the front door and ushering Drake inside. The lights were off, and she quickly
assumed that Drake’s parents were either out or deeply asleep. Then again, it
looked like there was not much people home.
Drake grunted as he lowered James onto the
couch, the blonde male still unable to do or say much. “I’ll get him something
to sober up,” he told her. “Is it okay if you just…comfort him? I’m not good at
that kind of shit,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
Understanding, Lyra nodded and darted off to James’ side, sitting beside him
and laying a hand on his shoulder as she did at the bar roughly half an hour
back.
In the kitchen, Drake remained silent as he
prepared something for James and the rest of them to drink. He had abandoned
Carina’s texts for the moment; in doing that, he felt sort of bad for it. On
the other hand, though, Kiran had also texted, asking simply if James was okay.
That text Drake was happy to ignore,
the blonde pretty pissed off with Kiran based on what had happened.
(Upon looking down, Drake realized that he
had stirred the drink a little too hard while thinking of ways on how he could
fuck off Kiran’s face. For good.)
He eventually came back to the living room
with warm drinks settled on a tray. Lyra saw him and attempted at smiling, but
even he could tell that she was upset about the whole thing. “I did my best,”
she managed weakly, Drake nodding and handing her a warm mug of hot chocolate.
Sniffing it, her eyes gained a tiny bit of happiness that made him smile as
well. She took a sip, sighing into the mug. “But…he’s sort of conscious.”
“It’s better than nothing.” After setting
the tray on the table, Drake cautiously held onto the white mug and eased it
into James’ hands. “Come on, J. You have to drink something to sober up,” he
told the other sternly, Lyra watching quietly from the side. James mumbled
something and Drake rolled his eyes, holding on to the mug until James managed
to hold for himself and raise it to his lips, taking small sips at first until
he managed to drink more and more. The other two visibly relaxed at that point,
Drake taking his own mug and drinking as well.
Lyra sighed and looked at Drake, “I don’t
understand how he could just…do something like that,” she admitted, tone giving
away how she felt. Lyra was upset and sad for James, of course. On another
hand, Drake could also tell that she was irritated. “He knew what James was
going to do and ended up sabotaging it.”
“It’s a rude move,” Drake agreed. “But what
makes it difficult is Carina.”
Lyra looked away at that point. “…she’s
really happy, isn’t she?” Drake didn’t reply at that, and her grip on the mug
of hot chocolate tightened. “Of course.”
From the couch, James was mumbling
something into his mug. Drake cleared his throat and stood up, leaving his own
mug on the table and excusing himself to get their friend another mug of sweet
drink. With nothing to hold on to, James kept his face in his hands once more,
shoulders sagging and his form slipping. Lyra watched, pained at how quickly
James could go from quiet confidence and coolly composed to slumping and an
emotional wreck.
It was disheartening.
“Sorry, Ly,” he managed, choking up. “I
just – fuck.” James tugged at his own
hair and choked back a few noises, Lyra squeezing her eyes shut and laying her
head against James’ knee. Mug eventually left on the rug, she kept her head
there and listened to him while comfortingly rubbing circles on his other knee.
Upon coming back, Drake paused and saw
them; James most likely crying out of pain and frustration while Lyra stayed
quiet, listened, and did whatever she could to make him feel better.
The phone in his pocket buzzed yet again.
Without any second thought, he reached in
and turned it off before approaching the couch once more to hand James another cup
of warm drink.
Carina
Araceli [1:04:06AM]: Please tell me that James is okay.
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