I hit the first bar I found and refused to leave until I was physically removed. Once I was out of there, I was too drunk to remember where the motel was, or why I'd even gone off drinking on my own in the first place. So I curled up on the sidewalk and went to sleep, vaguely hoping I didn't get mugged or stabbed.
In the morning, I did remember why I'd walked out and gotten trashed. ‘Cause Kyle doesn't think I'm capable of looking after myself. As I thought about it again, even through the hangover I felt myself getting angry all over again. I'd show him just how fucking capable I am of looking after myself. I'd go back to the motel, get my stuff, and prove to him that I can take care of myself.
So that was what I did. I got back to the motel, got the spare key from reception and let myself into the room, slamming the door behind me when I saw that Kyle was asleep. Nice to see you were up all night worrying about me then. I might have still been slightly drunk, if I'm honest, and I didn't wanna go without a fight. He woke up at that, arching an eyebrow at me as he saw me packing my stuff into a plastic bag I'd picked up on the walk back.
"What're you doing?" he asked, his eyebrow still somewhere near his hairline.
"Proving that I can look after myself," I told him grumpily, ignoring as I slurred my words.
"Are you drunk?"
"No, I just stink of booze and can't walk in a straight line," I muttered under my breath. He rolled his eyes at me and I gritted my teeth slightly, finishing up shoving my stuff into the bag. "You enjoy your week off. No need to worry about me, I'll be just fine on my own."
"Rayn, don't be stupid."
"M'not being stupid," I insisted.
"How am I being stupid?"
"Well, you're drunk and you've just packed your bags."
"Howzat stupid?" I don't see anything stupid with that at all, personally.
"It just is." Well that really answers my question.
"You're stupid," I said before I could stop it from slipping out. Now I look real mature.
"You think I can't look after myself, but I can." He just let out this sigh and I marched over to the door, doing my best to keep in a straight line as I went.
"Rayn, stop," he said as I grabbed the door handle. I hesitated. "Don't go."
"Why the fuck not?" I demanded, not looking at him.
"Because I don't want you to," he told me. I opened the door and got one foot outside before he tried to stop me with his words again. "Rayn, please."
"Why don't you want me to go, Kyle?" I asked, turning to face him this time, "why don't you want me to go? Is it because you'll worry about me?" My voice turned mocking, and angrier than I'd expected. I felt all too suddenly like he worried about me the same way someone worries about a kid. I'm older than him for fuck's sake! I didn't need looking after, I didn't need worrying about and I didn't need someone treating me like a fucking kid.
"No, you idiot, it's because I fucking love you. I don't want you to go because I don't fucking know if you'll come back and I can't risk being without you." That last bit kinda made him sound like the kid this time.
"'Can't risk being without me'? What the hell's that s'posed to mean?"
"For all I know, you'll fuck off back to Ohio and I'll only get to see you when I have time off or you'll find someone better for you out there." You mean someone who'll actually be able to accept me?
"And your point is? We're both adults here, I'm sure you can cope on your own as well as I can."
He sighed a little, "I don't want you to go because I need you around. I can cope on my own, yeah, but..." Yeah, you're not doing yourself any favours with the whole sounding like a needy kid thing here, Kyle.
"You need me around," I repeated dully, "I've not exactly done you any favours, have I? I embarrass and worry you and according to you am incapable of taking care of myself without someone's help which just feels like I'm a burden or something. You're not really making it any harder for me to make a decision here."
"You don't embarrass me, Rayn. And you're not a burden." I pulled out one of the dresses from the bag in my hand and sort of waved it at him.
"This embarrasses you, ‘cause you're a little gay boy faggot who feels threatened by his boyfriend dressing up as a chick. I mean, what if I turned out to be some tranny bitch? What would you do then, huh?"
"How the fuck should I know?"
"Maybe if I did turn out to be a tranny you'd stop worrying about me getting beat up so much ‘cause you wouldn't want me anymore." I didn't really know where I was going with this. All I knew was I was pissed off and I wanted a fight. If that fight was gonna be with Kyle ‘cause he wouldn't just let me fuck off and pick a fight with someone else, then fine.
"I'd still worry, Rayn. I'd still fucking love you."
"Would you? ‘Cause it doesn't feel like it when you go all weird about the dresses and shit. Y'know what I don't get about you? Is how you use where you grew up as an excuse to find it weird. You're perfectly cool with gay people, but at the hint of a bit of cross-dressing you go all ‘ew, it's weird, I don't like it'."
"Doesn't mean I don't love you."
"I'm pretty sure that if you loved me enough, you wouldn't give a shit if I wanted to wear a skirt or not."
"I'm trying my best, Rayn, I really am."
"Yeah? Prove it then. Take me out some place with me all dressed up and don't be ashamed of me, or introduce me to people you work with and don't be embarrassed because of me."
"Take you out where?"
"I dunno. Somewhere you can show me off for who I am and be proud of me for once."
"We'll go out when you sober up."
"I am sober," I protested, ignoring the room spinning.
"You don't sound it."
"I am," I insisted, realising then that I was still holding onto the door, and had been for nearly the whole argument. I let go of it, trying not to let my legs buckle as I swayed dangerously.
"You don't look it."
"I'm fine, I'm fine. I feel sick," my insisting sort of all backfired on me then as the room swung around me in a blur and I felt kinda sea sick. I vaguely noticed Kyle rolling his eyes, but I was too busy concentrating on finding my way over to the bathroom without tripping over. I collapsed in front of the toilet and my stomach started to empty itself.
I felt a hand pulling my hair back away from my face, and another rubbing my back as I puked up pretty much everything apart from my internal organs. When I was done, I rested my head on the seat, letting out a groan. He kept rubbing my back as I closed my eyes.
"Want me to get you some water?" I nodded a little, feeling like I was shrinking as he got up to get me a glass of water. I wasn't exactly proving my point that I could look after myself, was I? He sat down as I rinsed my mouth out. I leant back against the wall, feeling his hand brush across my cheek, but I didn't look up at him. Realising that I'd just gone and made a total fucking idiot out of myself was making me feel kinda sulky, and I was beginning to wonder if it wasn't wrong of him - or anyone, for that matter - to treat me like a little kid. "I love you," he said.
"I love you too," I mumbled quietly, my eyes fixed firmly on the floor. He tilted my head up by my chin and I glanced at him a little reluctantly.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Why?" I asked stupidly.
"Because I'm an asshole."
"Hey, I was the one picking a fight," I laughed weakly.
"Doesn't make any difference." I just looked at him, not sure what to say. Give me a break, I was still kinda drunk, and definitely had a headache coming on. He looked kinda angry at something, and I couldn't figure out what or why, so I tilted my head, looking at him curiously. "I said I'd try and get used to it and all we've done so far is argue."
"I haven't really done anything to help you get used to it. I'm sure I'm as much to blame," I reminded him, flashing him a tiny little smile. He shook his head slightly though, and I pulled him in towards me kinda clumsily, wrapping my arms around him. He cuddled back and I put my head on his shoulder, feeling my eyes slide closed again. It didn't take long before I was virtually comatose right there where I was.