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drunk
"get out, you pig!"
it had been a long day. an hour long set for a bunch of ungrateful bastards— drunk off their asses, too hammered to appreciate what was happening before them.
pete stumbled out onto the sidewalk. he could not say much, he himself had been plastered. only then it was to get him through the show. calm his nerves. now it was so he did not have to think so much. but now as he watched the girl slam her motel room door shut, he wondered. why was he there in the first place?
the girl did not love him for any other reason than he was in a band and semi-famous. she simply used him for sex and hopes of something pete did not understand. though, he could not complain— he was using her too. for a place to sleep that was not a tiny room with three other guys. but he guessed then that his stay was no longer welcome. they had sloppy, drunken sex and she kicked him out. leaving him to hate himself even more.
with blurred vision, he read the number on the motel key. "132," he mumbled, staggering through the dimly lit passge between the doors and parking lot, trying desperately to find the room.
after another grueling twenty minutes and apparently the wrong direction, pete found it. he attempted to put the key in the lock, but only failing due to his lack of simple motor skills. he groaned, angrily throwing the key at the door as he failed once more.
"fuck! somebody let me in!" pete shouted, hitting the door.
a minute of rustling and light footsteps were heard before pete's balance was stolen and he fell right into his best friend.
"fuck, pete!" patrick groaned as almost fell on his ass, trying to catch the drunken bassist.
"sorry," it came out almost as an embarrassed whisper.
"are you okay?"
"I'm not sure..." pete laughed as he stood up right again. "can I?" he asked, plopping down on patrick's bed without waiting for an answer.
"what's wrong?" patrick frowned, closing the door before joining pete on the bed. he turned on the lamp by the bed, causing the older to flinch and cover his bloodshot eyes.
"ow," pete whimpered, taking a moment before uncovering his eyes again.
"sorry..." patrick whispered, watching his friend situate himself on the bed. once pete seemed comfortable, patrick tried again, "what's wrong, pete?"
"why am I here? why am I doing this, patrick?"
confused, patrick furrowed his eyebrows. "what do you mean, pete...?"
"I mean...," pete sighed, shaking his head, unsure himself what he meant. "I'm so confused." he whispered.
"about...?"
"everything, patrick!"
"calm down," patrick mumbled, frowning at pete. "that's okay, pete. but... look, it's late. you're drunk, and you don't know what the fuck is going on. why don't we lie down?"
"with you...?" pete looked at his friend curiously.
"yes, pete. with me." patrick stated, rolling his eyes. "I'm not going to do anything to you, jeez."
"sorry..."
"don't apologise. just lay down," patrick shrugged, turning off the lamp before lying next to pete— who curled up to patrick closing his eyes, though he did not sleep for a long while.
it had been a long day. an hour long set for a bunch of ungrateful bastards— drunk off their asses, too hammered to appreciate what was happening before them.
pete stumbled out onto the sidewalk. he could not say much, he himself had been plastered. only then it was to get him through the show. calm his nerves. now it was so he did not have to think so much. but now as he watched the girl slam her motel room door shut, he wondered. why was he there in the first place?
the girl did not love him for any other reason than he was in a band and semi-famous. she simply used him for sex and hopes of something pete did not understand. though, he could not complain— he was using her too. for a place to sleep that was not a tiny room with three other guys. but he guessed then that his stay was no longer welcome. they had sloppy, drunken sex and she kicked him out. leaving him to hate himself even more.
with blurred vision, he read the number on the motel key. "132," he mumbled, staggering through the dimly lit passge between the doors and parking lot, trying desperately to find the room.
after another grueling twenty minutes and apparently the wrong direction, pete found it. he attempted to put the key in the lock, but only failing due to his lack of simple motor skills. he groaned, angrily throwing the key at the door as he failed once more.
"fuck! somebody let me in!" pete shouted, hitting the door.
a minute of rustling and light footsteps were heard before pete's balance was stolen and he fell right into his best friend.
"fuck, pete!" patrick groaned as almost fell on his ass, trying to catch the drunken bassist.
"sorry," it came out almost as an embarrassed whisper.
"are you okay?"
"I'm not sure..." pete laughed as he stood up right again. "can I?" he asked, plopping down on patrick's bed without waiting for an answer.
"what's wrong?" patrick frowned, closing the door before joining pete on the bed. he turned on the lamp by the bed, causing the older to flinch and cover his bloodshot eyes.
"ow," pete whimpered, taking a moment before uncovering his eyes again.
"sorry..." patrick whispered, watching his friend situate himself on the bed. once pete seemed comfortable, patrick tried again, "what's wrong, pete?"
"why am I here? why am I doing this, patrick?"
confused, patrick furrowed his eyebrows. "what do you mean, pete...?"
"I mean...," pete sighed, shaking his head, unsure himself what he meant. "I'm so confused." he whispered.
"about...?"
"everything, patrick!"
"calm down," patrick mumbled, frowning at pete. "that's okay, pete. but... look, it's late. you're drunk, and you don't know what the fuck is going on. why don't we lie down?"
"with you...?" pete looked at his friend curiously.
"yes, pete. with me." patrick stated, rolling his eyes. "I'm not going to do anything to you, jeez."
"sorry..."
"don't apologise. just lay down," patrick shrugged, turning off the lamp before lying next to pete— who curled up to patrick closing his eyes, though he did not sleep for a long while.
