The afternoon passed in a blur after he left Rose. Depression flooded him, and there was only one way to relieve it. He stopped off at his room to collect a couple of bottles, then wandered through the woods, contemplating his situation.
His recent actions weren't healthy—from a mental standpoint—and he knew it. The periods of depression and the temporary losses of sanity were becoming more frequent, because he'd cut back his alcohol intake drastically. He knew it was hurting him, but he couldn't bring himself to spend his days in the drunken stupor that protected his mind. Why? Because of Rose. She was his latest addiction, and it was one that was more dangerous than all his other bad habits combined.
If anyone asked why he'd cut back, his answer would have been to tell them that he wanted to be able to access spirit at a moment's notice. So he could view auras and visit dreams. So he could help Lissa come to grips with their element—an element that no one really understood. In truth, he knew the real reason he'd cut back was because Rose didn't approve of his so-called normal behavior. Deep down, he thought that part of the reason that she avoided him was because of his well-deserved bad reputation. He didn't blame her—he knew he'd spent the majority of his life being a total fuck up. Why would a girl like Rose want to bother with a man who's only goal in life was to be drunk so he wouldn't go insane?
What hurt him so badly was that she wouldn't even be friends with him. Right now, he'd settle for that—friendship. The chance to hang out with her, to laugh with her. But she refused to even give him that small measure of happiness.
He brought the bottle up to his lips, only to realized he'd already drained it. Cursing, he hurled the bottle into the surrounding trees, pleased to hear it shattering a minute later.
"Was that really necessary?"
He spun, irritated to find Belikov standing behind him, a disapproving expression on his face. Biting back his initial response of 'go fuck yourself', he glared at the man for a moment before speaking.
"You're off duty, right? Shouldn't you be off somewhere, stalking Rose?"
"I do not stalk Rose."
"Fine. I'll rephrase it. Shouldn't you be off somewhere following after Rose with like a puppy dog , with a sad expression on your face?"
Belikov sighed. "Lord Ivashkov—"
"Do you realize how much I detest you? You have everything I want within reach. All you'd have to do would be come off your goddamned pedestal and grab hold of it. I can't even get her to talk to me. She treats me like I've got the plague, and it's all because you told her to stay away from me." Adrian closed his eyes, trying to control his temper. He hadn't realized how much he blamed Belikov for his current problems. Rose had at least hung out with him that night at the resort. But that was, of course, before her darling Dimitri expressed his displeasure at her spending time with him.
"I have absolutely no control over who Rose chooses to spend time with. It's ridiculous for you to suggest otherwise." He crossed his arms across his chest, his expression giving away absolutely nothing. "She is my student, nothing more."
"Keep telling yourself that. Maybe eventually you'll believe it." Adrian pulled out his second bottle, breaking the seal and opening it. He smirked, offering it to the Russian. When the man didn't take the bottle, he laughed. "Too good to drink with me? Or are you afraid I'll find out you can't handle your liquor?"
Belikov arched an eyebrow, eying the bottle. "Really? You're trying to taunt me into drinking with you?"
"Is it working? Come on, truce for a drink or two. You're girlfriend broke my heart today. Again."
Dimitri's lips twitched, as if he were trying not to smile. "I'll have to decline. I'm participating in the novice's field training this afternoon."
"Sure you are. Good excuse." Adrian took a long pull from the bottle, his mind finally starting to feel numb. Ah. Relief.
"I'll make you a deal. If you'll stop littering and return to your room, I'll have a drink with you when I'm off duty. Provided you're actually sober when I get there."
Adrian chewed on his lower lip, thinking about the offer. One drink could easily become two, then three. A drunk Dimitri Belikov might just be amusing. It would at least alleviate the damned ever present boredom. Maybe he could arrange for Rose to see her precious Russian as somewhat less than perfect. Nodding, he held out his hand to shake on the deal. Now he had something to look forward to.
He tried. Really, really tried. Unfortunately, it seemed like things rarely went according to plan for him. One minute, he'd been perfectly fine, planning out all the questions he would ask Belikov once he got him drunk. The next thing he knew, melancholia hit him like a Louisville Slugger.
He felt disconnected, completely isolated from the world outside the walls of his suite. As the minutes passed, it got progressively worse. He began wondering if life was just an illusion. He worried he might already be dead, and Rose was an angel that he'd followed into the afterlife. He felt as though the truth of the universe was almost within his grasp, if he could only connect the dots and analyze the answers they gave. The only way to really be sure of reality and fantasy would be to remove himself from the picture altogether. When that thought crossed his mind he grabbed the nearest bottle—Tequila, this time—and didn't stop drinking until he'd drained it. The thoughts and voices were still chattering inside his head, so he moved on to the next bottle, and then yet another. After that, Adrian was lost, for a brief period of time, in the dark. He didn't care, he welcomed the blessed silence it brought—it quieted the dementia.
When he regained himself, he was standing below Rose's dorm room window, singing—more like screaming, to be honest—at the top of his lungs. He didn't remember how he got there, but he decided it didn't really matter. He was already there and in the middle of a song, so what the hell—he might as well put on a good show.
"You may be right… I may be crazy… But I just may the lunatic you're looking for!"
"Lord Ivashkov?"
What the fuck? Couldn't this jackass see he was in the middle of serenading the woman of his dreams? He ignored the interloper, shoving the man away.
"I told you dirty jokes until you smiled . You were lonely for a man … I said take me as I am Cause you might enjoy my madness for a while!"
"LORD IVASHKOV!"
"WHAT?" Adrian turned, glaring at the idiot who refused to let him finish his concert in peace. Hell. It was Guardian Dick. "What is so goddamned important that you couldn't wait for me to finish my song?"
"You can't stand out here and—"
"I can do whatever the fuck I want. I'm Adrian Ivashkov. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to finish singing to Rose."
"Why would Rose be in the Guardian's dormitory?" Guardian Dick looked extremely perplexed, his cheeks already turning red with anger.
Adrian sighed in frustration. "Are you high? That," he said, pointing to the window in question, "is Rosemarie's room."
Dick stared at him. "No it isn't. That's Guardian Belikov's room."
Adrian stared at the man for a minute, then shrugged. "Whatever, she's probably in there anyway." He turned back to the window, ready to sing again. Damn it, he'd lost his place because of Dick's incessant rambling. Screw it, he'd just start wherever. " Now think of all the times you wanted Belikov to satisfy you— well I might be as crazy as you say… I'm crazy yes it's true, Rose it's all because of you—"
A large hand covered his mouth, an arm wrapping around his chest in an iron grip. What the hell? Again with the kidnapping?
"Guardian Alto, what's going on here?" Fuck—why the hell was the Russian always spoiling his fun?
Guardian Alto smirked. "He thinks he's serenading Rose. If you ask me, they're a match made in heaven. He reminds me of her—they're both a couple of screw ups."
"I suggest you watch what you say Alto." Adrian laughed, but it sounded muffled because of Dimitri's hand.
"Why? He won't remember any of this tomorrow."
Belikov's voice dropped, sounding threatening. "He may not remember, but I will. If you'll excuse us, I'll take Lord Ivashkov back to his room."
He moved his hand, tugging on Adrian's arm. The handsome young Moroi shot another death glare at the man who had single handedly ruined his romantic gesture."Night Guardian Dick, hope you enjoyed the show."
Belikov chuckled quietly. "My God, he's right. Sometimes you act exactly like Rose."
"That's cause we're supposed to be together." Adrian stumbled, then fell down flat on the grass. "My legs won't work. I think I'm paralyzed."
Sighing, Belikov threw him over his shoulder. "Please try not to vomit on me."
The tall man made his way towards the guest lodging in silence. After a few minutes, the rocking movement of Dimitri's long strides lulled an extremely drunk Adrian Ivashkov to sleep.