Wren
Ch. 20
When they had arrived back at the library, Brandon promptly plopped himself down behind his desk. “Today was… nice,” he said, unsure of what the right word was, but entirely certain it wasn’t nice.
“Yeah. Maybe it’ll be better next time…” Rich drew out the last two words, knowing it was fairly likely that there wouldn’t be a next time.
“Thanks for the flower. You really didn’t have to do any of this.”
“I still owe you for help—”
“Enough of that! You’ve got more shit going on in your life than you can handle already! Don’t worry about me. Any debts you think you owe me, for helping you last night or for anything else, consider them paid. You’re a good friend, and right now you need to focus on your situation. I’ll help wherever I can, don’t worry about paying me back.”
It took Rich a while to respond, Brandon barely ever used profanity. He knew he needed to choose his words carefully. “…Thank you. It really means a lot that you’re going out of your way to help me at all, let alone without even considering compensation. I swear, if I make it through this—”
Brandon glared at him.
“If I make it through this, we will be even because I don’t need to pay a friend to help me when I need help.”
“Good, that’s what you needed to say.” Rich barely managed to open his mouth before Brandon continued, “for your sake, not my own. And it probably would have been better with a when rather than if.”
“…Thanks…”
“What are you going to do with the rest of your day?”
“I was thinking about heading down to The Ox. It’s been a hell of a couple days, and I’ve been feeling shitty since yesterday.”
“I’m telling you—”
“I know, I need to stop, it’s a problem. You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d been through what I’ve been through.”
“You’re dealing with enough stuff right now without having to deal with an addiction.”
“I’m already addicted. If I stop now I’m going to continue going through withdrawal, and that’s something I really can’t deal with with the stuff going on already.”
Brandon rested his face in his hands. At this point he doubted anything short of sewing Rich’s mouth shut would get him to stop drinking, and even then he could probably slip some in through the cracks. He did have a point though, this far into his addiction he needed alcohol to feel normal. If he went through withdrawal now he could end up getting caught and imprisoned, or worse.
“Just promise me. When you make it through this—”
“If I make it through this,” Rich interrupted.
“When you make it through this, that you’ll kick the habit.”
“I’ll try, but I make no promises.”
“I guess that’s all you can do, is try.”
“I guess it is.”
They each waited several seconds for the other to say something. When it became clear to Rich that if the conversation was going to continue, it was up to him to do it, he left with only a wave.