This can honestly be about whoever you want it to be about, but it's happened to more people than you think. It's about anybody and nobody. Your choice.
Every night was like the one before. He would stumble home, the reek of alcohol emitting from him like the strong aroma from freshly baked bread, only not as pleasant and ever the more numbing. He would kick off his shoes sloppily, and eventually fall onto his couch, too off balanced to stagger up the stairs and lay on his bed.
He rarely slept in his bed.
When morning would come, he would squint his eyes, fumbling for recognition as to why his head pounded so horridly and his stomach clenched strangely. Then the night before would flood back, and it would cause him to drink again. He never wanted to deal with the pain. He never wanted to deal with the loss. He never wanted to deal with the anger. Because it was all his fault, every bit f it, and he knew that everybody else knew that as well. They all blamed him, and he blamed himself.
She would always smile his way, though he never deserved it. She would bring a form of light into his life, no matter how hard he pushed against it. She cared for him. She would cry for him, bleed for him, and die for him. She had shown all three, some on countless occasions. She loved him, and he hated her for it. He hated her for it, because he couldn't return her feelings. He couldn't feel, and she deserved more. He was damaged goods, and she was a savior among men. It wasn't meant to be, but she wouldn't listen. She would continue to care, to help, to smile, and he hated her.
She would come over and clean his house, she would bring over dinners and stay until she made sure he ate. She made sure he took care of himself, something he never did. His entire life he had been alone, and she had been the only one to truly notice. She had been the only one to try to fix it. She had taken every insult, every argument, every imperfection of his with a graceful smile. He hated her for that too, because no matter how hard he tried to get her to hate him, she loved him in return.
She proved her feelings on countless of times. But the last time she told him she loved him, the last time she was alive, he shoved her away and sputtered another insult, ignited another argument. That time she stayed away a day longer than she normally did after one of their disputes. The next time he would see her was on the mission that started his drinking binge, the one that changed everything. They weren't on talking terms just yet at the time. He was too preoccupied with the enemy to notice the kunai lunging for his chest. But she noticed.
He hated her for it. For taking the blow, for smiling at him through a pale face and cupping his cheeks in her cold hands. He hated her for not being able to heal herself, for making him watch as she slowly bled to death, waiting for the medic team to arrive. He hated her for the blank stare he gave as somebody shoved him aside, making desperate attempts at repairing her wounds. But he knew at the time it was futile, the life in her now dead eyes slipping away from him every second that passed. He hated her as they carted her body off, holding him back as he screamed her name in desperation.
Months have passed since then, and he only keeps sober enough to complete needed tasks and missions. He would arrive at the bar at the same time he did everyday, trying his hardest to drink away the memory of that day, of everyday with her. It never worked, but he was intent on continuing until it did.
Looking down at an unopened bottle, he twirled it in his hands and chuckled darkly. It was the earliest he has ever started, but today, the pain seemed a little worse. It always got worse with time. Time doesn't fix anything, not in his case. As he cracked open the bottle, he watched the fizz slowly recede before tipping it in the air.
"Here's to you." he griped, cringing as the fiery liquid slid down his scratchy throat, burning. "Always to you." He hated her for so many reasons, but in the end, he hated her for making him care.
And somewhere in there, he hated himself too.