A/N - Okay, so I never actually mentioned the second character by name, so you're free to imagine her as being whoever you want. Also, I'd just like to take this time to point out that she's not actually an alcoholic; it seems a little like she might be, but if she were then the last scene would be a little unrealistic.
The door slammed shut, and the apartment was finally quiet, though the silence felt louder than the screaming had been. She could barely remember what they had been arguing about - something stupid, she was sure - the only thing she could picture was her usually cheerful face marred with tears and snot, mascara running down her cheeks.
She tried breaking things - throwing, hitting, destroying - but that didn't help to erase that one image from her mind. It was there every time she closed her eyes; with every single blink she could see Lavender, devastated, and all because of her.
She drank to forget.
.oOo.
The door hit against the wall, swinging shut but not quite catching. Slowly, she walked over to the door, holding onto the frame and staring, unseeing, into the corridor. It felt too narrow, the walls too close, and she closed the door. Lavender wouldn't be back until morning, and maybe she could find room to breathe in the larger space of their apartment.
It didn't really work; everything was both too small and too big, empty, and she wished she could leave but she had no where to go.
She drank to escape.
.oOo.
Lavender didn't even bother attempting to shut the door this time, and she knew things were getting worse. Now, there wasn't a day where they didn't argue about something, but she had no idea how to even go about fixing things. She wasn't even sure if she could fix this. Maybe it was just too far gone, but that was a truth she wasn't quite ready to face.
She drank to avoid.
.oOo.
The door closed with a soft snick, the keys left in the bowl. There was no coming back from this. Another pointless argument, but clearly they had stacked up. The usual bubble blonde had been cold, emotionless, as she'd packed a single suitcase, promised to return for the remainder of her belongings later.
This was final in a way it never had been before, and there was no room left for denial. The damage was beyond repair.
The bottle was left untouched.
She needed to remember.