Based off of the song 'Give Me Love' by Ed Sheeran. Only nine more days until season three!
This is placed sometime after the blackout, but before the end of season two.
Give me love like her,
'cause lately I've been waking up alone
Paint splattered teardrops on my shirt,
Told you I'd let them go
Just another shot, he'd tell himself. Just one more.
One more shot, and the pain would go away. One more drink, and he would become numb.
Most of the time, though, he just hated that he was lying to himself.
He was always alone when he drunk himself into oblivion, off in his secluded little corner of the bar at the Penny. It was always just him, the hardwood bar, and the faint buzzing feeling in his head that started after his fifth or sixth shot of vodka.
He knew alcohol was awful way to deal with stress. He couldn't care less.
The only thing—only person—he cared about didn't give a shit about him, so why should he?
One more shot, one more time the liquid fire would burn like ice in his veins. Just one more, then maybe he could forget.
God, he hated lying to himself.
And that I'll fight my corner,
Maybe tonight I'll call you
After my blood turns into alcohol
No, I just wanna hold you
He could never forget the look on her face on the night Toronto lay still and black, could never the forget the rush of her skin, could never forget how he had gotten high off of her kisses. He couldn't forget, even though he wanted to—more than anything. He knew that everyone could you see that he was falling apart, everyone except for her.
Really, it was the alcohol that held him together. He'd count down the hours until he could leave the shift and go to his little hideout; it didn't really matter if it was only two in the afternoon or nine at night. He'd stay until he was the last one left, watch the people come and go, some casting him sympathetic looks. He ignored them.
One more drink, one more time for the bite of alcohol to nip down the back of his throat like drunken kisses.
Give a little time to me or burn this out,
We'll play hide and seek to turn this around
All I want is the taste that your lips allow
He hated himself so much.
He knew that Oliver and Jerry actually had a system down now: one of them would get a call from the bartender, they'd come pick him up, drive him home, and they'd both always say the same thing, their words barely penetrating the cloudy fog that encased his world, sending it swirling back and forth like frothy beer in a glass, bitter and strong.
"Just go to sleep, Sammy, you'll feel better in the morning."
They were liars, too.
Give me love like never before
'cause lately I've been craving more
And it's been a while but I still feel the same
One more drink, one more time.
Maybe one day, he wouldn't open his eyes.
He knew that was too much to hope for, that he'd always wake up trapped in this hell, having her so close yet so far away.
One more drink, one more shot, one more chance to make the pain go away.
Maybe I should let you go
Oh, what'd he give for another night swollen with fireflies and regrets.
Another chance to give her his love.
Oh, give me love.