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“I told you to leave me alone,” he growled.
“Jesus H. Christ, did you drink it all?” Simon asked, shoving his way into the room. “How long you been at it, breakfast?”
“Brunch, asshole.”
“Oh, pardon me. You making sure you’ve got your pinky out every time you swig offa that bottle?” Simon shot back. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Lesley dumped me.”
Simon stopped dead and blinked. “Fuck. What happened?”
“I dunno, man. We got everything cleared up with the cars yesterday, and she said she needed some time alone.”
“Cars?”
Antony slurred out the story while Simon stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed. When he finished, Simon rolled his eyes. “Did she tell you she didn’t want to see you again, or did she say she needed some time alone?”
“The hell difference does it make?” Antony leaned back on the couch. “She doesn’t want me around.”
“You, my friend, are a fucking moron,” Simon said, shaking his head and opening the fridge to look inside. “You’re gonna hate yourself later for this shit, and you’ll deserve every miserable second of it.” He slammed the fridge and walked to the door. “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Drink some water.”
As soon as Simon left, Antony picked up the bottle and took another swig. For a second, that rational part of his brain thought Simon might be right, that he was blowing things way out of proportion, but then darkness settled back in.
The first thing he did when he woke up was reach for the bottle he’d left on the floor. It wasn’t there. He cracked his eyes, relieved when he found the room was dark. In front of him, on the low coffee table, was a bottle of water and two small pills. Simon. He spun his head, groaning at the swimming motion that followed.
“Might not wanna do that,” came a voice from the corner.
Antony gritted his teeth and choked down the medicine, spilling water down his chin in the process. “Kill me,” he moaned, lying back.
“No such luck, hero. You’re gonna have to live through this one. You earned it,” Simon said, leaning over and coming into Antony’s field of view. “Finish that bottle of water and go brush your teeth. You fucking reek.”
Antony responded by raising his hand and flipping his friend off. Simon barked out a laugh and moved out of sight. Seconds later, the clanging of pots and pans in the kitchen area set off quakes in his skull and he rolled over and pulled a pillow over his head. When that didn’t work, he staggered upright and slunk off to the bathroom, water bottle gripped tightly in his hand.
Ten minutes later, Antony came out, still mostly drunk, but clean. He collapsed again on the couch and glared at Simon, who was flipping through a guitar magazine and ignoring him.
“Well?” he growled.
Simon sniffed the air. “Better. Still look like hot garbage,” Simon said, getting up and walking to the kitchen.
“Asshole.”
“You’ve already called me that once today. Try again.”
Antony deflated. “I fucked up, didn’t I?” he said, less a question than a factual statement.
Simon hoisted a steaming pot over the sink and dumped the contents into a waiting colander. “I doubt it, man. Think about her point of view. She’s been through a lot.”
“Yeah, she has. And I feel responsible for all of it.”
Simon quickly set about making the carbonara sauce and dumped the pasta back into the pan, stirring and folding quickly. He slopped piles on two plates and handed one to Antony before sitting down.
“Here. Carbs and bacon. Cure for all sins,” he said, tucking in. The two men chewed in silence for a few minutes before Simon spoke again. “You gotta stop being the knight in rusty armor, Ant. She doesn’t need saving.”
“I know. I know.” Antony put his plate on the table and his head in his hands. “This is different. I know she doesn’t fucking need me. Like, at all. She’s stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.” He went silent. “But what if she doesn’t need me ever?”
Simon smiled. “Maybe she doesn’t need you. So what? Ever thought that she’s with you because she wants to be?”
“Dunno. Haven’t asked.”
