Amnesia 》hood

July 18th, 2014

Luke woke to the sound of Calum throwing up, again. It wasn't anything new, Calum usually drank until he was sick and then made Luke clean him up while he cried about how much he hated his life. They had a routine down by now. Luke was getting sick of it, though, and it was only a matter of time before he finally cracked.

Luke walked down the hall and into the bathroom, but Calum wasn't there this time. So instead he sighed and turned on his heels, walking into the kitchen where Calum was throwing up in the sink, because he couldn't make it to the toilet on time.

He was clutching the counter top with one hand to steady himself and tightly hanging on to his bottle of vodka in the other, which Luke had stupidly purchased for him. All Calum was wearing was a pair of sweatpants and some socks, because he couldn't bother to put on actual clothes anymore. He was too sad.

Luke stood next to Calum and rubbed his back while he finished throwing up, because he knew that there wasn't much else that he could do for his best friend. Calum was almost in tears, both from all of the alcohol and the way that he'd let himself get sick like this again. He promised himself that he would stop the drinking, but it never worked. He only really felt alive when he was drunk.

"Calum," Luke sighed, grabbing a paper towel for Calum to wipe his face with after he was all done.

"Yeah, sorry, I drank too much." Calum apologized, wiping his mouth off with the paper towel. The inside of his mouth tasted awful, like, really gross. Worse than normal. Maybe if he drank some more it would get rid of the bad taste...

"Yeah, you always do." Luke said. He was trying not to sound like he was too upset. But he was, and there was no denying that. Even Calum could see how mad Luke was.

"It just feels better." Calum shrugged innocently. He always acted like this wasn't his fault, like he didn't have control over the situation. By the way he acted you would think someone was continuously forcing him to drink.

"It's not good for you."

"But it feels better."

"Cal, I don't care. It's not healthy."

"I don't care about being healthy."

"Do you want to eat something? You need to eat something, you don't have any food in your stomach." Luke answered his own question, moving towards the fridge. He was always worrying about Calum like this, because he knew that he never ate anymore and it wasn't healthy. Luke couldn't remember the last time he'd seen Calum eat.

"I'm fine. I'm not hungry, but I am running out of vodka." Calum said, tears already freely falling down his cheeks. "You'll buy me some more, Luke, right? Please?"

"I don't think that's a good idea, Calum." Luke said, shaking his head. He was seriously worried now, and he was sick of Calum not eating and then drinking on an empty stomach. He was going to seriously hurt himself one day and Luke was just scared that he wouldn't be there to help.

"I'm sorry." Calum sniffed, wiping his watery eyes with the back of his hand.

"It's..." Luke trailed off, looking to the floor. "It's really not okay anymore."

"I know, and I've said that I'm sorry." Calum whined. He shook Luke off of him and slumped down to the floor, bringing his knees up to his bare chest.

"But sorry doesn't fucking cut it, Cal. You do this too much and I can hardly sleep anymore, I'm so worried about you." Luke snapped. He was right, Calum hadn't been taking care of himself lately and he'd somehow guilted Luke into watching after him like a sick little kid.