He took another sip of his glass… Red wine. His thoughts had gotten a comfortable blur to them by now. It was strange what a few glasses of this liquid could make everything seem so much less important, as if his worries weren't really belonging to him, but someone else. The brown haired man continued sipping to his wine, slowly drinking his worries and his insomnia away.
After a while he looked at his clock, not really registering the hour. It was more of a habit, really. "He should have been home around this time." He thought and put the glass containing that red liquid to his lips and emptied the glass. So sweet-tasting. Just like HIS skin. Such a seductive smell. Just like HIS clothes. How ironic, here he was trying with all his means to forget, yet everything reminded him about him. Even the wine.
How many times had he tried to tell himself that he wasn't coming home anymore? That he wouldn't be walking in that door with a big grin on his face and a lousy excuse for being late? That he wouldn't feel those strong arms push him into the sheets, making him scream that familiar name in pleasure anymore. That he wouldn't be waking up to bury his face in that pearl-white hair. The salty taste of tears blended with the wine, contrasting with the sweetness of the drink.
The brown haired man shook his head in an attempt to rid it of the thoughts that haunted him constantly, but he only ended up making himself even dizzier. He looked around the room which they had shared. It felt different. Everything felt so different now that he wasn't there.
Another glass was poured up to the rim, and emptied again. But it wasn't enough to stop the feelings that threatened to overtake him. Sometimes he drank so much he passed out, but then the memories came over him even stronger when he woke up, ripping his heart open once more. He had heard that the pain would go away in time. He didn't believe it. How could it? The pain of losing him, losing his lover, it was just too much sometimes. Silent sobs were heard throughout the dim room. The room they had shared. Now he was alone. He couldn't keep the tears away any more.
And the brunette cried. He cried hard, shaking as he lifted the bottle again only to find that it was empty. He put it back and sank down into the chair, running his hands through his long hair. He missed him so much. He wasn't ready for it to end like this. He didn't want to live on without him. There had been times where he hated the silver-blond for making him feel like this. For leaving him shattered, deprived and alone. But each time he got these thoughts he hated himself even more for having them. Of course he had to expect this could happen. They both knew it could. He was aware of the risks from the very start. But why did it still hurt so badly?
He wiped his face, though he was still shaking. The room was in a blur, the whole world was right now. Except the memories of him. If only the alcohol could numb down his soaring pain. But it didn't. It only helped his insomnia. Oh, what he'd give for just one more glimpse of him, the man he loved and always would. Sometimes he thought he could hear his laughter, or even feel his touch, but in a flash it was gone and reality hit him like a rock. His love was never coming back.
"Kakashi…" A sore sob sounded in the empty walls.