Eugene walked into his whitewashed apartment. A kitchen to his left. His bedroom ahead of him. His head hurt. Or was it his heart?
"Get a life, Eugene!" He winced as the comment echoed in his memory.
'Get rid of it! Kill it!' His mind shouted at him. He habitually dragged himself to his room, then to the cabinet above his bed. A bottle was taken down, then opened. An hour later it didn't hurt anymore.
'The- door? Are friends coming to visit?' Eugene stood up from his desk and opened it.
"Mr. Walton?"
Bernard shivered from the colder-than-usual weather that had invaded the streets of Odyssey recently. He reluctantly removed a hand from his coat pocket and knocked on Eugene's door. It creaked open to reveal a vestless Eugene standing in the doorway, eyes in a dazed state.
"Mr. Walton?"
"Hi, Eugene. Hey, this may sound crazy, but I was just driving past, and I felt like I was supposed to- well check on you. Just to see how things are going."
"Oh… there just. Fine."
"Eugene? Are you alright?"
"Fine. Fine." Eugene stumbled around back through his apartment and fell onto the couch.
"Eugene! What is- Oh. No." Anger burned. Eugene. The last one he would've guessed to be drunk. But he knew that his intellectually advanced friend wouldn't have just one bottle. He began looking for the rest. Every cabinet in the kitchen, the fridge, then the bathroom, and finally-
"There it is then." More anger was refreshed as Bernard wasted no time getting every drop out of the house. Just throwing the bottles out the door, letting them shatter against the sidewalk.
Once the job was done, he turned back to Eugene. He was staring blankly into space. He knew what Bernard had done. And almost looked angry- but not quite. Kind of confused-angry.
"You took my bottles." He mumbled.
"That's right. Now- come on Eugene. Put on some shoes, you're coming home with me."
"What?"
Bernard practically carried a depressed Eugene to his car and buckled him in. It was going to be a long night.
"Well, Eugene do you want some more pasta?"
"No thank you, Mr. Walton. And I just wanted to apologize again for my behaviour last night. I'd like to make up for it if I can- I'll pay you- I can- "
"Now, Eugene, there's no need for that. But," He sighed, "We do need to talk." Eugene nodded.
"How long has this been going on?" Eugene hesitated for a moment, then, "Four- years, I suppose."
"Hm. Well, it ends. Now." Eugene was silent for a while. Would he retaliate? Go along with it?
"How?"
"Well. There's um, some things we can do. I know a therapist in Connellsville. I'll take you over there to meet him this afternoon if that works for you."
"It does."
"Then, for a short-term solution. I want a key to your apartment."
"…Why?"
"Because I want you to call me. Every three hours. I don't care where you are. It doesn't matter where I am. Every three hours you're going to call me."
"What if I don't?"
"Then I'll call you."
"What if I don't pick up?"
"Well, that's why I need a key to your apartment."
"Yes, sir." A few tears fell but were quickly brushed away. Bernard placed his hand on Eugene's back.
"I won't tell anyone." Eugene's blue eyes met Bernard's, the colour of fear draining into a tender relief.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Walton."
"Don't mention it. Eugene, I'm always here for you. You're- family after all." Bernard smiled. Eugene chuckled a bit.
"I want to stop," Eugene said assuredly.
"That's a good start Eugene. That's a good start."