An All Too Common Case

Garrett watched him from the bar, occasionally taking sips of his beer as his best friend put his hands all over some poor girl. Then again, she didn't seem to mind, judging by her facial expressions and body language. As a matter of fact, she seemed just fine with the arrangement.

Garrett, on the other hand, was not. He was not pleased at all with John, who'd gotten trashed and found himself another drunken hookup. It was all he ever did anymore, now that Hayley wasn't around, and Garrett was getting sick and tired of it. Every morning following his nights out with the tall, lanky man, he'd have to set out Advil and water, shoo the girl from the previous night, and struggle to wake John up in time for his shift at the cafe. The routine had gotten old very quickly, but Garrett, wanting to be a good friend, had kept it up.

But lately, it was taking a toll on the younger man. He found himself unable to get to sleep at night, his conscience nagging him for letting John waste himself away. And since Garrett worked the early shift at the cafe, this wasn't good. He would fall asleep at the counter, and that resulted in being constantly reprimanded by his boss. The whole thing was a lose-lose situation, and something had to be done about it.

When he reached the bottom of his beer, Garrett realized he had nothing to stop him from going over there and pulling John away from the girl. So, setting his empty beer bottle on the bar, he slipped off his stool and strode over.

John whipped around the moment he felt someone tap his shoulder, narrowing his drunken eyes at his best friend. "Can't you see that I'm a little busy?" he asked rudely, jerking his thumb in the direction of the girl. Garrett peered over his shoulder, noting her glassy eyes and blank face.

"Yeah, she looks real interested in you, buddy," he commented sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He wrapped his hand around John's wrist and pulled him harshly, ignoring the protests that started spewing from his mouth.

"What the fuck, Garrett? I was gonna hook up with her!" he complained in a slur, trying to pry the smaller man's hand off of his body. Garrett managed to get John outside of the bar before he finally wriggled his way free.

By this point, the younger man was thoroughly exasperated. He didn't sign up for this, and John need to know that.

"Look, if you want to ruin your life, fine! I'll just let someone else pick up the pieces for once," he yelled, spinning on his heel and walking quickly down the sidewalk. "Fucking bastard," he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and digging around for lint. It was an old habit from high school, one he hadn't resorted to in a while, but his anger was so intense that it just happened naturally.

The anger swirled around him, clouding his thought process enough that he barely noticed when John matched his pace. It was surprising--Garrett was sure that he'd go back to the bar, back to that girl who was too far gone to care.

"What is this about, Gary? Why do you have a sudden problem with this?" John questioned, sounding almost sober.

"You're killing yourself, John. And by default, you're killing me. I can't make sure you come home alive each night, I can't clean up your messes in the morning. I need to end this, or I'm going to go down with you. Sorry, but I don't exactly want that for myself."

Suddenly, there were no footsteps beside Garrett. He turned around, seeing John standing a few feet back and looking like he'd been slapped. Garrett hadn't put any malice in his words. He'd just been honest--and John knew that with every ounce of his being, judging by the defeated look that appeared on his face.

"So this is it then. Ten years of friendship down the drain, just like that?" he managed to croak out, rubbing his hand across his eyes harshly. Garrett simply shrugged, then turned and headed back to their apartment, leaving John to stand confused and hurt on the sidewalk.

---

The next morning when John woke up, all he could hear was someone moving around in the room beside him. He rolled over, surprised when his arm hit nothing but the empty bed--he hadn't brought a girl home last night. It had been the first time in a long time, longer than he could remember, but it felt surprisingly good. He still had a blaring hangover though, and he simply clutched his head and rolled out of bed, pulling on a pair of boxers. Now that he'd had a little revelation, it was time to figure out what the mysterious noise was.

When John found Garrett, he was packing up his video games in the living room, several other boxes surrounding him. "What are you doing?" John blurted out, utterly confused. Garrett simply sighed, looking up at his best friend with a disappointed look.

"I'm packing," he answered simply, going back to his work. John struggled for an explanation, guessing that something important had happened last night that he was missing.

"Why?"

"I'm not going to stick around and watch you waste away, John. I was serious last night--I'm gone." Garrett wouldn't look at him as he piled more video games into the box, his eyes focused intensely on his hands.

John dropped to his knees beside his best friend, trying to grab his wrists and stop him from packing. "Please don't go. I need you here, Gary! You're like the glue that keeps me together," he tried to explain frantically. But Garrett only shook his head, gently pushing him away.

"You need help, and I can't be the one to give it to you," he mumbled, closing the box up. He stood up and looked around the half empty apartment, checking to make sure everything was packed away. "Trey should be here to pick me up in a few minutes. Until then, I'm just going to hang out in my room," he spoke, walking back down the hall.

John sat on the floor, stunned. Garrett, his best friend for the last ten years, was really leaving. He'd really fucked up--just like he'd done with Hayley--and now the only good thing left in his life was leaving.

He felt something cold and wet touch his cheek, only to find once he brought his hand up that he was crying. Actually crying, not just his eyes watering. And once they started, it was like John couldn't get them to stop. They streamed down his face fast, and he stumbled to his feet, barely missing the coffee table with his shin. Through blurry eyes, he made his way to Garrett's room, looking for any way to stop the younger man from leaving him. He fell to the floor in a heap, hitting his head against the closed door and choking on another sob.

"You can't leave!" he begged, blubbering as he curled into a ball. "You can't leave, Gary, I need you."

It seemed like hours that John laid there and cried, sobs wracking his thin body as Garrett sat on the other side of the door, torn between opening the door and promising to stay or leaving John to handle his problem on his own.

Eventually, John heard footsteps coming down the hall. Trey was here, which meant that Gary was really leaving, once and for all.

"Whoa, man, you okay?" Trey asked, crouching down to touch John's arm. He just shook his head and dug his palms into his eyes, rolling away. Trey frowned, then stood up and knocked on his brother's door.

"Garrett? I think you need to come out here..."

The door opened and Garrett saw his best friend, curled up on the carpet and looking like hell. Trey bent down and tugged on John's hands until they were away from his face, and the tall man looked up pitifully. The minute Garrett laid eyes on John's tear stained cheeks, he was staying.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Trey mumbled, slipping away quietly.

"Oh, John," he murmured sadly, sitting down and pulling the older man into his arms. A whole new wave of sobs overcame John's body as he clung to Garrett's shirt, not even caring that Trey was standing beside them and he was still only clothed in boxers.

"Don't leave me, Gary," he spoke in a small, childish voice, wiping his tears away on his best friend's shirt. Garrett shushed him, gently brushing John's hair from his face and kissing him gently. John felt his breathing calm down, and once it became regular again, Garrett pulled his face away.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Garrett replied.

"Is this why you've been so upset with me?" John managed to ask, glancing up at his best friend. The younger man shrugged, absentmindedly twirling a piece of John's hair in his fingers.

"Maybe. I'm not really sure."

John snuggled his head against Garrett's chest, accepting the explanation. "Well, whatever this is, I like it."

Garrett bent his head down and connected their lips once more, smiling. "Good, because I wasn't planning on stopping."