Aha thanks kriscrable, and yeah you'll probably get mentioned a bit more on here in the future haha, and oohhh that's what flags are, that's a pretty cool idea Rosalia :) Starstar I think we could all do with a cupboard chip from time to time hehehe, and Triple C it's no problem haha, it got rid of the super short semi-chapter I had floating around in my head :)
And thelostcullengirl, you might be right about that slap..
Til next time :3 ~nellen xx

Flora woke with a start, confused and scared at the sound of a slamming door.
"Oh, Clive,", she sighed, rolling over to grab her phone. Half past one. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, sliding out from the covers and creeping to the doorway. She watched silently as he staggered up the stairs, half hidden behind the door. She heard him stumble to the bathroom, pulling a face in disgust when the retching began. Clive was no lightweight, but even the best drinkers would struggle to hold the things he'd downed. He'd lost count after his sixth or seventh, and lost his mind not long after. It was a miracle he'd made it to Flora's at all really, instead of just passing out on the street like most of the other people he'd seen.
Flora had crawled back to bed not long after the boy's return, only to be woken again by another sound.
Not retching, or moving, or anything like that. Crying. But it couldn't be, could it? She got up again, pulling on her dressing gown and shuffling out to investigate.
"C-Clive?" She murmured sleepily, "are you okay?"
She gently eased open the door to the spare room, frowning when she found it empty. She paused on the landing, listening out for the quiet weeping again. She followed it back to the bathroom, sighing sadly at the sight of her friend, well she hoped they were still friends, curled up in a shuddering ball on the floor. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't awake either, mumbling incoherently as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
"Clive... Clive. Come on, get up, time for bed," she muttered, gently shaking his arm to wake him.
"Piss off," he grumbled, pulling his arm back over his head, "Mark's the one you should be taking to bed."
"Oh Clive, please, I was going to tell you," she whispered softly, brushing the hair from his eyes, "I promise, I didn't want to hurt you."
"Ha! I'm not hurt! You really think I'd be hurt that you'd kept your boyfriend secret from me? No, I'm not hurt, I'm not. I'm not." Clive's murmuring became quite fierce and manic, occasionally choking out a crazed laugh between words. Flora bit her lip, her vision cloudy with tears, "Clive, please, you're scaring me."
"Oh well I'm sorry, little miss 'I'm in a relationship but didn't think to tell my friend,'" the boy muttered indignantly, "little miss 'I like playing games with ex-convicts because it's not like they're going to feel anything anyways.'"
"Clive Dove, you shut your mouth right now!" Flora snapped, raising a hand to silence him. "I was not playing games! I didn't tell you I was in a relationship because if I did you'd just ask more questions and more questions and more questions, ones I don't want to answer. But still you'd ask and you'd ask and you'd ask, until I'd crack and tell you. Mark abused me, ok? There you go. That's why I never told you." She took a deep, shuddering breath and screwed her eyes up tight.
She opened them again, very, very slowly, a little surprised to not feel a burning pain in her cheek. "You-you didn't hit me?"
"Well no obviously not," Clive retorted, sitting straight up and frowning at his friend, "I'd never lay a finger on you, regardless of how much I've been drinking, and I don't believe that any other man should either."
"He doesn't any more though," Flora squeaked hurriedly, "he loves me, and I him. Please don't be mad!"
"I'm not mad," he muttered, "possibly a little bit crazy, but I'm not mad."
"You're a good friend you know," she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck. "I was worried when you left earlier that you might not come back..."
"Well I have," he muttered again, almost annoyed that she'd doubted him. He was too drunk to realise that it was probably with reason, and that he was scaring Flora.
"Why do you do it?" She asked in a whisper, tucking her knees up to her chest. It was cold in the bathroom, but neither was in a hurry to leave just yet.
"Do what?"
"Drink." Her voice was quiet and sad, and he barely heard it even in the silent room.
"To forget," he replied, a sad smile wavering on his lips, "I do it to forget."
"Oh."
"Oh."