For the first time in over two years, I had allowed myself to get drunk.
My eyes were sore and I blinked, tears falling drop by drop on the cold floor tiles.
Suddenly, a warm hand patted my back gently.
Then, a familiar yet distant voice spoke.
"Two years without seeing each other, and you've become quite the drinker."
Eric's voice was cold.
I looked up at him in panic, but quickly lowered my head again, embarrassed by how pitiful I must have looked.
"Are you drinking while you're sick? You've really learned a lot."
He continued, his tone biting.
"None of your business."
I snapped, lowering my head even more.
"Like I care," he muttered darkly.
His words seemed to shatter the fragile calm I had built around myself.
I struggled to stand up and leave, but he grabbed me, holding me close.
Through my hazy mind, I felt something warm and soft on my face.
Somehow, he had found a warm towel, and was gently wiping away the tears I hadn’t even realized were streaming down.
"Mr. Brown, please, control yourself."
I bit my tongue, stepping back to clear my head.
I was terrified that the overwhelming flood of memories would drown the last bit of self-control I had.
He chuckled darkly.