Tyler woke up with a pounding headache which had become so common to him he barely noticed. Almost like a reflex he reached out for the bourbon bottle he saw sitting on the table in front of him. Luckily, it wasn't completely empty and had just enough for him to take a good swig and numb his headache, or more specifically, his hangover.
He looked around and realized he had crashed on the couch again. Judging by the blaring sun and the intense humidity in the apartment, Tyler assumed it was about twelve in the afternoon. Anger worked its way into his mind and he wondered why Matt, who most have been gone to work by now, hadn't woken him up.
Tyler relaxed back into the couch and recounted the dream he had been having about his family. He wasn't sure if it could be classified as a nightmare, but these "dreams" always left him feeling tense. And an even stronger craving for booze.
He had a small family. It was just him, his mom, his dad, and his uncle. Uncle Mason was barely ever around and Tyler knew it was because he thought he was weird. Uncle Mason only ever came around maybe once or twice a year and it was more to just see his brother, Tyler's dad.
His mom tried too hard and it pissed Tyler off. It was almost as if she had some sort of secret agenda, she seemed to always be trying to screw him over by throwing him off. For example, giving him mixed signals. She kicked him out of the house, but was crying and telling him how much she loved him and that kicking him out would be the best thing for him. Tyler wasn't sure how being homeless would be the best thing for him, but if that's what she thought, then whatever.
His dad was the only real person who loved him. He was honest and truly wanted only the best for him. Ever since Tyler was a child he could always rely on his dad. Richard was the one that taught him how to stop from ever getting bullies. Tyler never had a bully a day in his life, ever, because his dad taught him to be scary and mean to the kids before they could be mean to him. His dad gave him his first drop of alcohol which basically meant he showed him pure bliss. His dipshit of a mom wanted him to wait till the legal age, but his dad let him drink it when he was just ten and it was incredible. Ever since then, Tyler's been drinking it with every meal like goddamn lemonade, just like his dad.
Everyone he's ever known in his entire life has lied to him. Either promised they'd be there, but then leave when he needed them. Claim they understood how he felt, only to judge him for it later. But not his dad. His dad was always honest, brutally honest, even when he was just a little boy. If he made a mistake, Richard wouldn't sugar coat it like his mom would, he'd tell him straight to his face that he was a stupid fucking clutz, those were his exact words. If Tyler got cheated on by some girl, his annoying friends would say she was just another slut, but his dad would say he wasn't good enough for her. And he was always right. The few times he did lay a hand on Tyler, Tyler knew he deserved it. Even though he wasn't always sure what he did wrong, he knew he must've done something. Sometimes it was like his dad could predict the future, he would tell Tyler that he was beating him for what he would eventually do, he knew and was honest that Tyler was dumb as fuck and messed up all the fucking time. Sure enough Tyler would start crying, which always deserved a beating. Only pathetic pussys cry. Tyler was already a screw up, he didn't need to be a sissy too, and his dad saved him from that.
Tyler rose from the couch, heading into the kitchen for whatever food he could find and a fresh beer. He glanced at the clock and realized it was actually almost 1:30 in the afternoon, he had to go into the grill from three to to ten which meant he wouldn't be able to drink as freely as he'd like, but at least this way he could sneak a couple of free-bes.
"You look like shit." Caroline Forbes said as he walked into the breakroom.
"Fuck you."
"You know, if you weren't so angry at the world all the time, maybe you'd be a little happier. You should try it sometime."
"What time do you leave anyway? Please tell me I'm not dealing with your ass all night."
"You just don't wanna work with me because you know I'd get all the tips, but I'm clocking out now, I have a daughter, remember dumbass? That I kind of need to pick up at daycare?"
"Lucky bitch, and if I had tits, I'd probably get double the tips too."
Caroline laughed and walked over to him, giving him a pat on the back after she clocked out.
Caroline was probably one of his favorites in the group, at least as far as females go. They had hooked up a couple of times, but both were clear that they would always be just friends. Not to mention, she had a smoking hot bod and was a vixen in the sheets. They worked together, but rarely had the same shifts. Caroline mostly had day shifts since not many daycares were open past seven and she had to go take care of Florence. Tyler always had night shifts, his managers realized relatively quickly that he was useless during the day, but they still kept him around since he knew his drinks and was, for the most part, good with the customers.
He hated working. He only did it so he could pay rent and buy more booze, but he hated it because he wasn't allowed to get shitfaced at work. He could have a couple drinks, sure, but not enough to feel nothing, not enough to get rid of this feeling he'd get whenever he was sober. He was sure it was the worst feeling anyone could ever have. It felt hopeless, as if there was no point in anything. If Ty was sober for too long, it would start to even physically hurt him. His tongue would dry up and he'd have trouble walking so he drank. Because the only time this strange intense feeling was ever gone was when he was drunk. Working at a bar at least made it easy to sneak some.
"I think everyone is going out tonight, you coming?" Caroline asked in a rush, riding his dick.
Ty sighed. Don't get him wrong, Care was an amazing fuck, but even in bed she had trouble shutting up. He waited to respond until both of them had finished their ogasm and Caroline layed next to him, lighting a cigarette.
"Yeah, I'm off tonight, you can count me in. What time?"
"Whenever you're ready, I think some of them are already there. You and me can carpool."
The idea of a drink sounded amazing so he stood up and began dressing. Caroline, taking the hint began getting dressed as well and in a matter of minutes they were out the door headed to the bar.
Sure enough, everyone else was already there except for Elena and Stefan, Tyler had an idea of what they were doing.
His first order of business was ordering a drink, something that would get him fucked fast. He downed half a bottle of whiskey before he began to even feel anything and rejoined his friends out on the dance floor.
Some might say Tyler used alcohol as crutch. A way to better socialize, feel more comfortable, more happy, but Tyler didn't see it that way. To him, alcohol was a form of medicine. When he was sober he wasn't someone anyone wanted to be around, always irritated with a raging temper. But drunk Tyler? Drunk Tyler was fuckin fun. He was himself when he drank, the real him coming out. His life was no longer something he wanted to escape, but rather a beautiful display of passion and excitement. Laughter flowed easily and he felt like the king of the world. As he grinded on some rando he realized there was a way he could make this experience even better. He escaped to the bathroom.
There he saw Damon and Bonnie fucking on the sink. He laughed, them both being so into each other they didn't even notice the multiple people walking in and out. Everyone in the group already had their theories that Damon and Bonnie where hooking up on the side. Their connection as well as sexual tension was always fairly obvious. Tyler smiled slyly, excited to confirm with the rest of the group later that there suspicions were correct. However, that wasn't what he came in here for.
He made his way into a stall, sitting down on the toilet and pulling a small plastic bag with white powder inside out of his pocket. Next, as if this was as routine as brushing your teeth, he took out his phone and credit card, pouring the powder onto the back of his phone. He then used his card to make four tiny lines. Plugging one nostril and sticking a rolled up dollar bill in the other, he sniffed up each line one by one. He leaned back when he was done, not wanting to go back into the outside world until he felt the effects.
When they finally did hit, they hit hard and mixed with the alcohol Tyler felt like he was floating on cloud nine. In a normal pace, although to him he felt like he was moving in slow motion, he stood up and walked out of the stall.
His senses where all on full blast. He could hear everything. The pumping club music, the vast conversations going on, Damon and Bonnie still fucking on the sink, their skin slapping the porcelain and their moans ringing in his ears. With each new sound, colors popped in front of his eyes. The bright glow from the lights in the bathroom and the sudden change to the dark neon glow when he entered back into the club suddenly seemed much more distinct. He could taste his tongue in his mouth. It was warm and wet, his teeth still had the lingering taste of alcohol on them as well and Tyler was sure he could taste a little bit of each drink he had had in the past five hours. He could feel the air around him, it was thick and he could feel the multiple bodies he bumped into, their warm skin sending shock waves when they rubbed up against his.
But out of all his senses, the one that seemed to be the most prominent was his sense of smell. Nothing was making it past his nose. He could smell the random guy behind hims sweat, he could distinctly make out the difference between Caroline's perfume compared to the other girls nearby. And most of all he could smell the alcohol. To Tyler, the smell was as familiar to him as the smell of homemade cookies is to others. It reminded him of his dad more than anything.
He suddenly was a bloodhound, following the trail of the smell all the way to the bar. He ordered more to drink. The taste of it gliding down his throat burned in the most beautiful of ways, coating his throat with comfort.
Then something changed. No longer did the mixture of vodka and cocaine feel right anymore. His senses where on alert and everything seemed much more threatening. The music was deafening, the lights blinding, his tongue disgusting, the air suffocating, and the scent of sweat reeking. His heart began to pound in his chest and he knew he had to get out of there. Never before had this happened to him and the only thought running on repeat in his mind was something his father had once said to him. After whipping him with his belt, Richard loomed over thirteen year old Tyler, grabbing him by the face and forcing him to make eye contact. "The day the world sees you for the little bitch you are, is the day you'll die. Don't let them see you weak."
Tyler sprang up from his seat although he never remembered sitting down and ran as fast as he could out of the club. Being outside though didn't calm him much at all, if anything he felt even more exposed. He began to see dark shapes and figures watching him from the dark. None of them had faces, but they all had the same voice saying the same thing. "The day the world sees you for the little bitch you are, is the day you'll die. Don't let them see you weak."
He began to run faster, racing to some unknown finish line. The faster he ran, the more shadows began to appear and the louder the chanting got. He knew it was hopeless. He had been seen. The world must have found some way into his darkest parts of his psyche to realize how weak he truly was. They saw that he needed alcohol and drugs because without them his anxiety was higher than his tolerance. The world realized he hid behind his angry outbursts to cover up for the fact that he was terrified of people seeing the real him. The miserable, pathetic, dependent piece of shit he was. A coward who couldn't fend for himself.
His father was right. His father was always right and Tyler knew with almost a hundred percent certainty that this would be the day he died. The shadows would catch up with him soon. They would overpower him and do God knows what, he could already feel their darkness closing in as they chanted in his father's voice "The day the world sees you for the little bitch you are, is the day you'll die. Don't let them see you weak."
His lungs where tightening as he was running out of air and he naturally began to slow down, finally collapsing on his knees sobbing. He had let his father down, he had been weak. And now he was going to pay the price for it.
"I'm sorry dad! I'm so sorry!" He shouted as the darkness closed in around him.
He woke up right as vomit flew from his mouth. His head was banging and he shivered fiercely as the early morning air sliced his skin.
A bad trip. He'd never had one of those.
Tyler rose to his feet, taking in his surroundings. He was on Wickery Bridge and the sun was just beginning to come up. He couldn't recall anything from last night, only that he had been terrified. He felt miserable and needed to get home and get a drink, alcohol being the only cure to his hangovers. He took out his phone and ordered an Uber, hoping that'd it'd get there soon so he could get back and get rid of this painful migraine.
When he pulled his phone out, the tiny bag with white powder fell out as well and Tyler bent down to pick it up. It didn't take much consideration for him to take the rest of it. He preferred alcohol and was admittedly slightly nervous to be taking this stuff again right after the horrible trip last night, but it was all he had.
As the high began to set in, however, and the pounding in his head began to fade, he realized something.
You just gotta take the good with the bad sometimes.