I shut the door behind me, carefully pushing it back into its frame so I wouldn’t wake anyone up. It clicked loudly as the latch shot back into place.
“Shhhhhh,” I hissed at it. I shuffled into the kitchen to get myself a glass of water, but the glass wouldn’t behave. It kept slipping from my hands and down onto the counter, like it was determined to get me caught.
“Lazarus?” Line’s voice was behind me. I had been quiet, how the fuck did he wake up?
“Fuck,” I mumbled, slipping and knocking the glass into the sink by accident. The noise made me groan – it was too loud, like a gun had just gone off. Line got me a drink, a frown just about visible on his face. I slid down onto the floor with it, holding it with both hands so I wouldn’t drop it. I leant back on the cabinets, wondering if I could get the water in my mouth and not all over myself.
“You’re drunk,” Line said. That frown was still on his face. I didn’t like it.
“M’not,” I wanted to shake my head, but I was fairly sure I’d throw up if I did that.
He sniffed me, “you are.”
"Nope. I'm very not drunk,” I told him, trying to think of a way to get him to stop frowning. I couldn’t make my head work. "Very, very, very undrunk," I told him, lifting the glass to my lips. I stuck my tongue out, dipping it into the water. That wasn’t working too well, though, so I tipped the glass. And got water everywhere. Line was getting annoyed. I could tell, even though my head was full of fuzz. He started cleaning it up. He was pissed off and so was I. I’m not sure why. I threw the glass across the room, listening to it shatter as it hit the wall. I don’t know why I did that. It all felt like everything was a very long way away from me.
"What was that for?" Line asked irritably.
"I'm not drunk,” I replied just as angrily, getting up as he went over to clean up the glass. My feet just about got me as far as the sofa, where I collapsed face down on it.
"Anything else you want to break before you sober up?" he asked. I rolled over to answer him, surprising myself as I fell off and the floor rushed up to greet me. I forgot what I was going to say, so I settled for slurring abuse at him until he left me alone.
“Fuck off,” I grumbled. I caught him rolling his eyes at me as he headed for the stairs. “Yeah, s'right, you fuck off up there." I kept shouting abuse at him til I heard the bedroom door shut. I noticed my face was wet, then. I wiped the water away, but it kept coming back for some reason. The door opened after a while and Line emerged, coming down to sit with me. The fuzz in my head was telling him to fuck off, and I think the words came out of my mouth.
“What the fuck is your problem?” he asked with a frown, getting up. I didn’t know what to say. I knew what my problem was – even the fuzz in my head didn’t let me forget that. But I couldn’t make myself answer him. I didn’t want to talk about it. I just about managed to splutter out an apology before Line left me there again, but he didn’t sit back down. I asked if I could come to bed and he nodded. I followed him up, flopping down on the floor out of habit, curling up. Line patted the bed and I looked up at him. “What?” he questioned.
"I was bad," I mumbled.
"So? I'm not Brody." I hesitated and climbed up into the bed, curling into a tight ball next to him. I waited until Line was asleep before I even tried to get to sleep. I could feel my face getting all wet again. This time, I didn’t bother trying to wipe it off.