"Fuck you, ass hole," Craig said, smiling. I just won a round of Super Smash Bros and I kicked his ass.
"Take me out to dinner first, damn," I said, punching him in the arm. We laughed for a bit, "Want any food?"
I got up from the makeshift couch composed of solely pillows and headed toward the kitchen. "What do we have?" Craig asked, pausing the game, "Do we still have pizza rolls?"
I opened the fridge and the only things inside were a six pack of Budweisers and some water bottles. Oh. I opened the freezer and it was literally empty. Shit. I searched through the cabinets and found them all to be completely bare. "We have zero food," I called back.
"Can you go get some? I'm thinking about crashing early tonight."
"Yea, sure," I pulled out my phone and started a new note, "What do you want other than pizza rolls?"
"Hot Pockets, fries, pasta, some sauce for said pasta, soda, those microwave sandwiches you got last time, and get some ice-cream, dude. I've been wanting ice-cream for days now."
I put all that on the list and added stuff of my own: microwave veggies (we have to try to stay healthy), sandwich ingredients, cereal, milk, pop-tarts, chips, salsa, maybe some fruit and cookies if I have the cash. "I'm gonna want some money, man," I told him.
Craig groaned and got up from the floor, pulled his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and took a twenty and a ten from it. "Will I get change?" He asked
"Maybe," I said, knowing I'm annoying him.
"Will I need to entertain you to get the money?" He asked in a 'jokey-flirty' tone.
"Sorry, I don't have any ones."
"Bastard," He smiled at me before I grabbed my keys and hoodie off the hooks and left the apartment.
When I got back, my arms were aching from carrying four full bags in each of them. I struggled to get the proper key into my hand and then to open the door. "Craig, you lazy ass, come help me," I said as I got in.
"Kenny! I missed you, man," He slurred his words as he stumbled toward me. There was a beer can in his hand and it was spilling on to the floor. He grabbed on to me and tripped over himself trying to keep his balance.
"Craig, let me go," I said as I attempted to break free to put the bags of food in the kitchen.
He did let go, but a couple seconds after he did, he almost fell completely on the ground. He caught himself on the closet doorknob. I put the bags down sloppily on the counter and immediately opened the fridge. The six-pack had been opened and only one can was left. Time to be concerned. "Craig, put that down."
"Put what down?" He said, laughing between his words.
I took matters into my own hands. I practically bounded towards him and took the can out of his hand, spilling it all over myself. He tried to stop me by grabbing on to my jacket, but I just took the hoodie off and made a bee-line for the sink, dumping the rest of the booze in. I didn't even care what he was crying out. I turned to the fridge, grabbed the other beer, opened it, and dumped that, too. I could hear Craig practically in tears on the floor, "No, Kenny, stop! I need my medicine!". I crushed the can in my hands and slammed them both into the trashcan.
When I was able to look at him again, he was in a ball on the floor, holding my hoodie with all his might, crying into it. He looked like a goddamn child crying into an orange teddy bear. It was pitiful and heartbreaking. I sighed before I walked toward him and bent down to get to his level on the floor. "I don't know why you're so shit-faced, and I know you're too drunk to tell me," I started rubbing his back. I know what Craig gets like when he's wasted, "You really should just get some sleep. Come on."
I reached out my hand to him. He looked up from the hoodie, tears starting to dry, smiled and attempted to grab my hand. It wasn't very successful, so I took his hand for him. "I'm going to pull you up with me now," I tried to be calm and gentle with him, "Ready? One, two, three—"
And on three, I pulled him up and he was slipping and falling. I changed my positioning so that I had Craig's arm around my shoulders, making it easier to guide him to the bedroom. "You're so fucking nice, Kenny," Craig spat out.
"Thanks."
"No, like…" He had a drunken thinking face to ponder his words, "No wonder girls dig you so much. Being helpful is sexy as shit, man."
"Just get in the bed, Craig."
He kinda just fell onto the bed and then rolled over a bit. "Kenny," He said, staring at the ceiling, eyes wide from the high.
"Yes?"
"Get into bed with me, man."
"I need to put the food away—"
"Please? I just… I just…" He gagged a bit before saying anything else.
I sighed "Sure, fine," And lay next to him, "Just don't puke on me, okay?"
"You don't understand, Kenny," He rolled over some more and was closer to me. He was in more of a fetal position and his head was on my chest, "It's like my favorite thing about you. You give a shit about me. No one else does, but you do, man!" He laughed after that last one.
I do give a shit about him. I give one hell of a shit about him.
I kinda just started to just stroke his hair. It was something that I found comforting, so maybe it could get Craig to calm down and go the fuck to sleep. I watched as his eyes slowly started to close and his body relaxed. I smiled when he started to smile. I lay with him, continuing to stroke his hair, relieved that he was actually falling asleep. I saw him slowly breathing, and I was comforted knowing I could comfort him. I waited about five minutes to make sure he was truly sleeping. Once Craig was out, he was out until he heard an alarm. I slowly shifted myself away from him, watching him carefully to make sure I didn't wake him. I sat on the side of the bed, looking at him and his pitiful person. I ran my hand through his hair again, and I caught the right corner of my mouth smiling at him. And I decided to kiss his forehead. It was an impulse, but one that I wasn't exactly expecting. I thought 'Oops I have frozen food that needs to be put away,' and darted into the kitchen.
Once everything was in its proper place, I collapsed on to the pillow-couch. I checked my phone, but as I was about to put it away, Craig's phone vibrated. It was next to me, and I glanced over to the screen. It was a text from Ruby. All I read was "Mom and dad fucking suck, I know…"
It got me worried, so I picked up the phone and read the text in full. The last words were "Please tell me you're okay". Ruby texted him other times, too. "Craig, are you okay?" "I heard them yelling" "Craig answer your phone" "Craig?"
My eyes widened and my mouth was agape. I went to his recent calls. Three missed calls from Ruby Tucker, two from his mom and three from his dad. What the fuck happened while I was gone? There was a voicemail from Ruby. I had to listen. "Craig, don't listen to Mom and Dad. You're eighteen now, so you can do whatever you want. I trust you to be okay, so please don't do anything stupid… I love you, okay? I'm just really worried about you now because you're not answering my texts… Please call me back… Bye…"
Damn… I still don't know the entire story, but it seems like Craig's parents don't approve of him living on his own. I don't know what words were said to cause him to drink pain away, and I don't know if I'll ever find out. I thought about it for a bit, and I decided to text Ruby back. She's the only other person in his life who truly cares about him, and she's probably worried sick. "Hey Ruby, it's Kenny. Craig will be fine. He's sleeping now. Don't worry."
I left his phone on a pillow and went back into the bedroom. He was still sleeping. I slowly went to the other side of the bed, took my headphones off of the side table and lay next to him, staring at the ceiling. I plugged the headphones into my phone and set my alarm. I didn't move in my sleep, so the headphones would stay in overnight, and only I would hear it go off. I looked over at him and just started feeling awful for him. I mean, I had a pretty shitty home-life growing up, but I still felt bad for the one he had. I got a bit closer to him and put my arm around him. He startled me when he kind of snuggled in. His head was by my chest and I started brushing my hand on his back, and I fell asleep with him.
I woke up the next morning in the exact same position I was in the night before: my arm around Craig, Craig snuggled against me. With my free hand, I turned off my alarm. I looked over at him and smiled. He looked a more at ease. But I had to get to work. Craig's going be hung over like mad, so I decided to help him out. I called our supervisor. "Yes, Kenny?"
"Morning, sir," I said to him as I walked over to the closet, "I'm just calling to tell you that Craig is too sick to come in today. He's puked like twice now."
"Telling me he was sick was enough information, Kenny," He was annoyed, whoops, "And will you be coming in today?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, I'll see you at nine."
I got a white button down shirt and some black pants from the closet, went into the bathroom, did my morning routine, changed, and proceeded to the kitchen. I grabbed some of the poptarts I bought yesterday, ate them, grabbed my hoodie and keys off of the floor and left for work.
I got a call from Craig while on my lunch break, smoking out back while eating McDonald's. "Hey, Craig, how you feeling?" I asked when I picked up.
"Like shit, man. What happened to me?"
"You drank."
"A lot?"
"Like 85% of the beer in the fridge."
"That's a new record," He said, laughed, and then cried out in pain, "Shit, it hurts to laugh."
"It's cool, man," I took a drag from my cigarette before continuing, "Just stay in bed, drink water and eat some stuff; I covered for you."
"Thanks, Ken," There was silence for a moment before he finally said, "Thank you for caring. I really do appreciate it. I'm sorry you have to deal with my bullshit."
"It isn't a problem, man. I promise."
