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She knocked on his door - no, pounded on his door - hoping that he was actually home. Because she would have to break in if he wasn’t, and if she couldn’t find a way to break in, well…
“Lisbon?” Cho said as he swung the door open. A near empty bottle of beer was clutched tightly in his other hand. He waited for an explanation.
“I’m a little drunk,” she answered, and she would have laughed if it wasn’t for the tears rolling down her face.
Cho lifted his bottle. “I’m two steps behind. Want beer?”
“Yes. Beer.” She pushed into his house without invitation.
Lisbon was unsurprised when she found several empty bottles and cans lying on his coffee table - somehow, it made her feel like she wasn’t as alone in this world. Grabbing a bottle from his fridge, she collapsed on his couch.
“Where’s Jane?”
She flicked her head over to Cho as he sat down across from her.
“Have a fight or something?”
“No, Cho, we didn’t have a fight.” She chugged down a third of the beer before she continued. “He left. Again.” Lisbon couldn’t hide the way her voice cracked.
“What do you mean he left?”
“He’s left left. As in ‘he could be on a flight to Mexico’ left. I don’t know where the hell he’s going or how long he’s gonna be gone. He just left.” She swore quietly and took a drink again.
“I’m going to fucking kill him. I’m going to track him down and beat his sorry ass."
“He is upset, Cho.”
“Stop defending him. How many times has he done this to you now, five, ten-“
“‘To me?’”
“Lisbon, you’re the only one who has ever really cared about him leaving. Remember the first month after he killed Red John?”
She wouldn’t ever forget the amount of times she had come crying to his door, knowing that Cho would never judge her. Lisbon sighed and downed the rest of her beer. “He’s upset,” she repeated quietly, as if those feelings suddenly validated his actions.
“Everyone is fucking upset. You two should be comforting each other, instead of him leaving you to grieve on your own, when you obviously need him here.”
Reaching out, she shoved her beer bottle onto the coffee table. “He doesn’t know how else to deal with things. He doesn’t want people to see him when he…”
“When he what?”
Her reply only came after she grabbed the bottle of vodka he always stored in the back of his pantry. “When he breaks down. He always breaks down when shit gets bad.”
Cho’s only reply was a muttering under his breath. He watched as Lisbon went back to the couch and downed a shot, not even grimacing in the slightest. “You staying here tonight?”
“Yeah,” she murmured, twisting her hair around her finger. “I don’t even know what to feel right now.”
“Vega’s dead.”
“Yeah.”
“We should just move to Africa or something.”
“Nah, we’d just get bitten by monkeys, or squashed by elephants, or have an earthquake wipeout half the population.”
For the first time in over a week, Cho burst out laughing. “It’s like we’re in some kind of literal Survivor.”
“We’re the only ones that always survive. But we never win.”
Frowning, he took the shot glass and bottle from her hands, and poured himself half a shot. “Shit, Lisbon.”
“Sorry.”
Swallowing the vodka, Cho said, “You love him, right?”
She hesitated. “Yeah,” she whispered, “yeah, I do.”
“He’s told you he loves you?”
“Every time he says it, it feels like the first time.” Her voice remained quiet, and tears began to fill her eyes again.
“I don’t understand, then, how he can just leave you."
”It doesn’t have anything to do with love. He doesn’t even think about it. All he can focus on is that he can’t let himself get hurt any worse, because otherwise he will snap or break or something.”
“I want to punch him in the nose.”
“Join the club.” Exhaling, Lisbon closed her eyes. Her mind was heavy with alcohol and with pain; fear for the future of their relationship.
Cho’s voice broke through her thoughts. “You want my bed?”
“Mm-mh. Will probably puke on your sheets.”
“I’ll go grab some blankets.”