Chapter Text
I sat comfortably in my bed, doing my nightly doom scroll before going to sleep. I reach my last video, promising myself that this would be the last one I watch before I truly turn off my phone and pull up the covers. I was about halfway through the delicious mac 'n' cheese recipe before it was interrupted by an incoming phone call. The caller? Smitty. I checked the clock on my phone; it was 12:15 AM. What could he possibly be calling at this hour? But then again, I was on my phone during this time. I have known the man long enough. Why turn down a harmless phone call? I click the incoming call before answering.
A long silence was on the other line, with the sound of someone’s clothes shuffling like they were moving. “Hello? Smitty you there?” I spoke into the phone, more silence. Butt dial, almost likely, I thought, happens all the time. Just as I was about to pressed the phone to hang up, a drunk voice spoke. “Heeeey, _____” It was Smitty, who was clearly not sober. I checked the clock one more time just to make sure I didn’t make a mistake. Yup, it was still in fact 12:15 AM. What he could be doing is drinking at this hour?
“Smitty,” I started, “Are you…drunk?”
Smitty took a while before answering “Yup”, popping the p.
Well, this was new, I thought.
I’ve never seen, or rather heard, the man drunk this before. Even when going out to bars or weddings, the most I’ve seen him being tipsy, and even then, he had some control of himself. Unless it was a drinking stream, which was very rare for him. I get up from my bed, making sure I keep Smitty on the line. I try to start the conversation again, “So,” I fill in the silence, “What’d you have to drink?” I heard a hiccup before an answer, “Oh, you know, just this 19% alcohol margarita mix.” I felt my own liver recoil, cringing at the taste of the drink, poisoning my organs before getting a brutal hangover the next morning. I turn on my PC, typing in my password before opening up a new tab. “Wow,” I say as I click on the small Twitch icon that I conveniently bookmarked, “That’s a lot, man, you sure you’re okay?. The man on the other line practically yells into the microphone to emphasise his state of mind, “Never felt better, baby!”
I can’t stop myself from giggling as I open Smitty’s stream titled, “DRINKING IS PEAK | DRUNK PEAK STREAM”. I rolled my eyes at the title as I clicked on the stream. His character seemed to stand in the small airport with no other people in the game. “Have you been drinking just by yourself?” I asked, watching chat scroll by lightning speed. “Nope, I was drinking with the clooless group, and they all left after two rounds…like pussies”, Smitty mutters near the end, but his microphone still picks it up, and chat goes wild at the snarky comment. I hear a few clicks on the call; he must still be in his office, in reach of his PC. “Oh shit, I’m still live?” Smitty slurs before letting out another hiccup. He laughs, “Mods, delete the vod, delete the vod, delete the vod,” he gets closer to the mic with each rephrase, emphasizing the importance of destroying such a clip. His voice through the microphone was becoming booming, but it was probably too late. I was already imagining my Twitter timeline being filled with posts of that infamous 15-second clip. I watched as his stream ended and chat finally came to a full stop.
”Well, that was a rollercoaster”, I said.
I could hear Smitty’s smile through the phone, ”Couldn’t agree more.”
I then started to think, was Smitty really ok? I knew Matt didn’t live too far from him, but he was gone to visit family. I mean, Smitty was an adult, he can take care of himself. But he was drunk. Like, drunk drunk. He couldn’t possibly have the ability to handle things on his own to ensure that he’d be better the next morning. Maybe I should go check on him, that’s what friends are for. As I silently hesitated on checking on the man, he spoke his ramblings again. “Hey, _____?” He spoke. I wandered, “Yeah, Smitty?.
”I’m hungry, do you think the McDonald’s drive thru is still open?”
“I’ll be at your house in 20 minutes, don’t go anywhere”
-
I was thankful to arrive in less than the expected 20 minutes, but rather 15 minutes. I check the time on my phone again, and it’s 12:30 AM. I sigh, putting the phone in my hoodie pocket before getting out of my car and closing the driver's door. I walked out of the driveway and to the front door, searching through my purse. I found my keychain that held a staggering amount of keys. They giggled like a tambourine, the majority being gold, but some silver swam in the ocean of yellow. I eventually find Smitty’s key he gave to me, using it to unlock the door and push it open. I was greeted with the sound of light but fast clicking noises on the floor, like claws, and around the corner came who I expected. Octavia.
I smile, get onto one knee, and pat my legs for the dog. She comes towards me, her small tail wagging in joy. “Hi, my big girl!” I cooed, petting her head with one hand and her chin with the other. I soon got up, closing the door behind me, and Octavia walked to the couch in the living room to rest. I call out in the dark, "Smitty? You there, buddy?" There is no doubt that he was here; his car, a nice red Ferrari, may I add, was sitting in the driveway of his house. I just hope that if he did drive, he didn't cause or get into any trouble. I turned on the hallway lights before walking down and taking a left turn. I have been to his house long enough to know what each room was by now, so it didn't take me too long to find Smitty slumped against his office chair, his PC was still on, and he had his face that distinctive white glow. I peered over behind the main on his, he thankfully didn't go live again, and I reached for the power button to run it off. I shook his shoulder, "Hey, Smitty?"
I watched as his eyes fluttered open, though they were half-lidded, and expanded pupils drifted towards my face. His lips, which had drool dripping from one corner like a leaking faucet, formed into a drunken smile. "Oh, well hellooo there _____! What are you doing here?" His voice was tired, but it was trying to be energetic, something he commonly did even when he was sober. I put my hands underneath his armpits, which now drenched his grey long sleeve in sweat. "I'm here to make sure you don't do anything dumb," I simply answered cause that was my only task. "Now let's get you on your feet." I pull hard due to Smitty's drunken state of mind, not clicking to him that he should contribute to standing up. I eventually got the man on his feet, my hands hovering over his arms like I was trying to balance paper. In a way, Smitty was paper, delicate and fragile; with just one blow, he could fall. I take one of his arms around my shoulder, starting to slowly walk him to his bedroom.
Once we reached the bed, Smitty collapsed onto it. It looked like he regretted it as his body curled up and crumpled. My nerves jittered, and I asked, "Is something wrong?" Smitty whined, "Fuck, my stomach feels like it's on fire." I could only assume he fell onto the bedroom floor, with the alcohol still sloshing in his stomach. Smitty sat up, gripping his stomach and hunching over it. "I think I'm gonna throw up," he uttered, and I felt myself panic. There was very little time before the floor, and his clothes were covered in vomit. I helped the man up, guiding him urgently to the bathroom, which was thankfully just across the hall, but he was still a ticking time bomb that could explode at any moment. A few moments later, Smitty was on his knees in front of the toilet, vomiting everything he'd had today. I felt guilty and sympathized with him, knowing each round probably burned his throat like acid. I sat next to him, placing my hands on the back of his head. Smitty didn't often grow his hair long, so there wasn't much to hold onto, but I gently used my nails to graze and massage his scalp. He must be getting a headache from this level of drunkenness, so it was best to comfort him before things worsen.
Eventually, Smitty raised his head from the toilet, his skin looking just slightly paler than I remembered. I put the back of my hand against his forehead; he was hot to the touch. "Jesus, you're warming up," I said with concern, "Are you done throwing up, or do you have some more leftover?" Smitty shook his head no, and I nodded, flushing the toilet for him. I stand up, giving out both hands to help the drunk Canadian up right. His entire body wobbles like a newborn deer, making it harder to guide him around, but I somehow still manage. I get his arm around my shoulder, walking him back to his bedroom and sitting him on the edge of the bed. I leave him be as I search in his dresser and in his closet for a pair of clothes he could change into. I pick out a simple grey graphic t-shirt and blue and green flannel pajama pants. I set them next to the man, "Arms up," I commanded, and Smitty sluggishly obeyed. I grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his body before putting on the grey t-shirt. I help remove his sweatpants and put on his flannel pants, tossing the pile of sweaty clothes aside for now.
"Stay here," I said, softly bopping his nose, "I'll get you a bottle of water and some medication." Smitty kept his stare on me, and through his pupils, his mind just seemed empty; probably nothing but a small moth drowning in brain fluid and alcohol in that cranium of his. I called his name, "Smitty? You'd hear me?" and that seemed to get his attention. "Huh?' He mumbled, "Oh, yeah, yeah. My head hurts". I leave the room, turning on the light switch at the end of the hallway to turn on the kitchen lights. Searching the cabinets, I eventually found the medicine cabinet. Many pills sat on different shelves, most of them seemingly doctor-described or drug-stored. I moved a few bottles over I still find a bottle with the bolded words "Ibprofren". I go back to the previous cabinet and pull out a water bottle and a glass. Opening a drawer below the cabinet revealed where the ziplocks were held, and I took one. I put two pills in the bag, and with a rolling pin, I crush the pills in the bag. I knew Smitty wasn't one to take pills well, let alone when he wasn't sober. So with my critical thinking, I thought he drinking the pills mixed in water might help. I pour the powder from the ziplock into the cup before mixing it with water. With the water bottle, I fill it with a few ice cubes before filling it with water as well.
By the time I came back, Smitty was lying in bed on top of the covers, but he wasn't asleep. His eyelids were still half-lidded. I walked up to him, sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs behind me. "Sit up," I spoke softly, "Slowly." Smitty sat up, his back against the black wooden headboard. I hand the man a cup of water, and his eyebrow furrows. "Is this more alcohol for lil old me?" He asks, the way he slurs his words is almost ironic in a way. I softly laughed, "No, it's some ibuprofen in water. I know you have trouble with swallowing pills sometimes, so I just put them in water for it to be easier."
Smitty squinted his eyes at me, "Are you sure you're not trying to drug me?"
"Believe me you're drugged enough."
Smitty took a sip and grimaced at the bitter taste. "Do I have to drink this?" Smitty asked, his eyes now pleading.
"Well, do you want a worse headache tomorrow?"
Smitty's head hung slightly low, "No," he murmured.
"Then drink up."
I watched as he'd take a few sips before stopping, sipping on some of the water in the water bottle before going back to drinking the water in the cup. After a while of convincing and wiping many water drops from the man's chin with my sleeve, Smitty. He eventually finished his cup of water. "Yuck," He muttered, putting the glass down on the nightstand, "So much more bitter than tequila." He drank some more water from the water bottle, which seemed to help him a lot with sobering him up and overall help with his thirst. "So, how do you feel now?" I ask, placing the back of my hand on his forehead. The heat had thankfully, had gone down a lot. All I could hope for now was that he could sleep it away. Smitty leaned into my touch, closing his eyes at the coolness of my hand. "Mmmm, much better," he purred quietly, his eyelids struggling to flutter open. "That's good," I answered back, sitting up in bed.
A hand instantly reached for my arm, "Nooo, ____, don't leave meeeee!".
I smiled at him, "I wasn't, don't worry. I was actually going to open the bed covers for you."
"It's already bedtime?"
I had a hand resting at my hip as my other hand pointed at the alarm clock, which flashed in bright numbers "12:55 PM". "It's well past your bedtime, young man."
Smitty giggled, "Okay, okay."
He rolls over from his side so I can open the covers and crawl in. As soon as he's inside the blankets, I wrap them over his shoulder securely. I walk to the other side of the bed, pulling the covers and joining him. I sit up, my back against the headboard, as my head looks down at my phone. "I'll be here if you need anything, but for now, try to go to sleep," I said, taking my AirPods from my back pocket and slipping one of them in my left ear, before I heard Smitty call my name again. I look down at him, his eyes seemed more softter when his dark brown color blended with the shadows of the peaceful night. "Yes?" I said. Smitty's brain seemed to buffer before he remembered what he was going to say. "Y'know how pretty you look?" He said. The unexpected compliment made my face warm up, though my blush isn't visible in the dark room. I smile, thinking he meant nothing more than to just compliment a friend, "Well, thank you." I replied.
"No, like seriously, dude. You're like a fucking model with that face of yours." Smitty continued, "How are you not a model yet?"
I shush him, "Smitty, seriously, go to sleep.
"Whatever you say, gorgeous."
Smitty moved, so now his head rested on my thigh. I didn't mind the sudden change if that meant he'd go to sleep. I put on my other AirPod, my left hand softly tangled in Smitty's scalp, effectively massaging it while my other hand held my phone. A few minutes went by before I felt a tap on my thigh, and I looked down as I took out one earphone. "Yes?" I asked Smitty. "Just one more thing, and I'll leave you alone." Smitty slurred. I sighed, my mind making up predictions for Smitty's ridiculous, drunk request for me as I had now become his personal servant.
"Which is?"
"I love you."
Despite the man being long gone from being sober, something about the way he said it, the voice barely being a whisper, it was almost no joke. From complimenting my looks to most likely confessing his love for me felt something I couldn't just brush off, yet I still did exactly that. "I love you too, buddy," I whisper back to him, contemplating whether or not I should be feeding into this if Smitty was being serious. I watched as Smitty frowned at the sudden friend-zoning word "buddy," and I felt my heart ache in pain. He sucked in some breath through his teeth before pointing towards his forehead and simply saying, "Kiss me, right here." I hesitate for a bit before leaning down, moving the man's hair from his forehead, and giving him a small peck. "Please, Smitty, go to bed," I practically begged the man as he wouldn't stop annoying me like a young child.
Smitty listened as ten minutes went by and I heard his soft snores through my AirPods. I check the time, 1:10 AM. My eyelids had gotten heavy, and it was impossible to keep them open despite the bright screen I was presented with. I turned it off, slipping off my ear buds and putting them on the nightstand. I stared down at the Canadian, his hands had found their way to my waist as Smitty nuzzled into the exposed skin of my thighs, thanks to my black shorts. His face was warm to my cold thighs; his entire body warmed me up in general. I played with his hair that spilled over my leg gently so as not to wake him up. I soon found myself lying in bed next to Smitty, my face facing his. His eyes were shut but fluttered every so often; he must be dreaming, I thought. His nose inhaled and exhaled, his chest following the steady and even rhythm. His lips were slightly apart, pink and plump. They looked so soft, I thought, they'd be like tasting a cloud if I just- No. I stop myself as my lips are near his, the two of us exchanging our warm breath. My lips just slightly grazed his as I backed away from him, my lips aching to be touched by his.
All I could do was let Smitty, who was still asleep, nuzzle into my chest as my chin rested on top of his head. His arms were now around my torso, and mine loosely hung around his neck. One hand continues to massage his hair while the other rubs soft circles on the back of his neck. If I could stay like this forever, I would. I don't know why this stuck with me a lot. I was just looking after a friend after all, no? I just tried not to think about it, letting my mind drift somewhere else. The AC hummed a silent tune that filled the silent, dark room, Smitty and I now being tangled bodies of warmth underneath blankets. I press a tender kiss on top of Smitty's head.
"I love you too," I muttured to Smitty before I drifted off to sleep.