Chapter Text
You loved him. You really did. but it was getting so tiring. It was tiring to come home from work to see him passed out in the living room every day. It was tiring to bring him to the doctor every few nights to get his stomach pumped. It was tiring to have to beg him to stop. It was tiring to watch him make progress and then lose it again.
It had been three years since he stopped working in the military. Everything he had went down to hell after the hearing with Sheperd. He was understandably distraught, and you thought that he wouldn’t have taken his drinking this far.
The first time he went home, he was so sweet to you. He was incredibly loving and just wanted to find comfort in your arms. But as time went on, it felt like you just weren’t enough for him anymore. The warmth you provided couldn’t keep up with the cold eating at him. The feeling of the alcohol coursing through his veins kept him going for a while, and you just... let him.
It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t know how to help him. It seemed that nothing could match the boost of temporary happiness he got. He would usually drink until he passed out, and you had to carry him back to your bed. It became part of your daily routine. Even though it wasn’t your fault, the guilt would still eat at you every time you saw him. You blame yourself for not being able to help him. Every night you’d carry him to bed, you’d think that maybe, if you had stopped him earlier, it wouldn’t have gotten to this point.
A small part of you wishes that he could have cheated instead so you could leave him without feeling guilty about your decision. It would have been easier to walk away sooner, but every time you even thought about leaving, you’d think about your vows to him. You vowed to love him in sickness and in health. You felt like you had an obligation to stay.
Until one night.
You finished your work and was able to come home early. It was the first time in months that you came home to find him awake. Of course, he still had a bottle in his hand, but hey, he was awake.
You walk towards the couch, gently tapping his shoulder. His body immediately reacted to you touching him, turning around so suddenly it made you take a small step back.
“Honey, what are you doing here so early? ”He asked.
The look on his face made you cry. He was trying his best to smile, but his eyes just spoke so much more.
You take a step forward, close enough to be able to smell the alcohol on him. You started picking up the bottles that were on the floor.
“I finished work early. Do you want me to cook dinner, or do you want to get food delivered? ”You tried to hide the disappointment in your voice. You couldn’t stand to see him drunk anymore.
He looked at you. Even if he was inebriated, he could tell how disappointed you were. “I miss your cooking, sweetheart... Hell, I miss you in general,” he said.
You stood up, took the last empty bottle from the floor, and looked him in the eyes. “Stop drinking.”
He looked like he was buffering for a while until he finally managed to mutter, “What? ”
It had been a while since he even looked at your eyes; they were so empty. Like the hope had been drained from you and put in a bottle, which he then proceeded to drink.
“Stop drinking.” you repeated. You couldn’t bear to live another day as you watched him destroy himself.
It was like he sobered up a bit. He sat up straight, still looking at you. He could feel that feeling in your throat when you feel bad. “Sweetheart.. Ya’ know I’m trying. It’s just difficult.”
You can feel the pressure slowly building up in your throat. “It’s been three years, Philip. I don’t want this life.”
His drunk state gets the best of him and he suddenly raises his voice. “Do you think this is the life I imagined for us?!”
You’ve had this argument with him countless times yet none of your words managed to convince him to stop.
"Am I not enough for you?" you asked him.
He stayed silent, not knowing how to reply to that.
"Answer me." your tone became more aggressive. All you needed was assurance from him. For the first time in three years, he felt something that wasn’t the sense of euphoria he felt when he was drinking, he felt guilty.
Tears started to form in your eyes, except, these weren’t tears of sadness or disappointment, no, they were tears of frustration. All of the emotions you had bottled up were all suddenly pouring out. You love him so much but the life you were living was something you hated. It’s as if your hate for your life was stronger than your love for him.
You managed to choke out words between your sobs. “If you miss me so much, why won’t you fuckin’ listen?” His breathing felt heavy. He can’t even look at you anymore. “I’m sorry.” He managed to whimper. Hands on his face, he says again “I’m sorry.” — “I’m so sorry.”
You look at him. You want to hold him, you wanna tell him you love him. But you wanna be held too. It’s one of those moments where you just can’t seem to think anymore, it all feels like a crash of emotions. You wipe your tears (though it doesn’t stop flowing.) and sit down on a chair facing the couch. You’ve never felt more defeated.
He slowly moves towards you and kneels down. He cups your face and uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. “I’m sorry, please.” Philip believed himself to be a strong man. The kind of strong man that you'd think of when you think “strong man”. But in this moment, he felt small, like a mouse trapped by its own desperation. He could feel his tears flowing. “I’m so sorry sweetheart. I’ll stop, I promise.”
He’d said this so many times, you wish you could believe him. You wanna push him away but you’re too much of an empath to do that. You know where he’s coming from, you know how hard the past few years have been for him. You wonder if this is pity or love.
You take three deep breaths and look at him. You cup his face and cry. You slowly go down to his level and hold him, really tightly. Like a child would their teddy bear after getting yelled at. His face burrows itself in the crook of your neck while his hands massage the back of your head.
You wanna let go and push him away but you just can’t seem to. This is the comfort you’ve been craving for so long that you don’t care anymore. You just wanna be held. You can feel his almost frantic breathing. He doesn’t wanna lose you. Though parts of you seem to have already chipped away during those three years. You feel like you're sitting between comfort and chaos. You miss him so much.
He slowly lets go and stands up. He takes your hand, urging you to do the same and you do. He leads you to your shared bedroom.
“I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” You nod in acknowledgement. You sit down on the edge of your side of the bed waiting for him. A few minutes later, he emerges from the bathroom. He looks like he showered and for the first time in weeks, he doesn’t look like fresh shit. He sits down beside you and holds your hand. “I’m sorry I did that to the both of us. I love you.” For the rest of the night, he just holds you and you sulk in the warmth. You’re unsure if he’ll stay true to his words his time but at least you’re in his arms again. And for that moment, it’s enough.