You're Flying

I woke up and stretched my arms above my head, joints popping. Some miniature person inside my head was taking a sledge hammer to my brain, I swear. I sat on my bed for a few minutes, blinking my eyes repeatedly in hopes that it would make my hangover go away. I know that it wouldn't, but you can't blame a man for hoping.

I yawned as I moved my hand down to scratch my stomach as I dragged my feet into the kitchen. Mornings have never been kind to me, especially mornings when I have a hangover. I clicked my tongue when I saw Angel making delicious looking pancakes. He is such a sweetheart and I am so lucky to have someone like him.

He turned around as he heard me scrape the chair at the dining room table back. I let my head fall down onto the table with a loud 'thunk.' It's not like it would do me any damage, my brain is already being torn apart by miniature people who live to make me scream. I heard Angel scrape back the other kitchen chair as the pancakes' aroma wafted up to my nose.

I looked up and ravaged the food immediately. I am so fucking hungry that you could hear my stomach growling in China. "You look like shit," Angel said bluntly after studying my appearance for a few minutes. I'm not surprised, I bet I looked like shit too. I was in nothing but a baggy pair of boxers. I was pale as fuck and my eyes were bloodshot, bags hanging underneath them. My hair probably made rats nests look neat and I had stubble lining my jaw line. I could probably pass for a hobo.

"Why thank you, darling!" I said sweetly, sarcasm hinting in the background of my tone. "I love you too," I said dead-pan, staring at him as I continued eating my pancakes.

"I'm not saying I hate you," he defended while leaning back in his chair, looking a bit appalled that I jumped to conclusions. He hates having his words twisted around.

"I never said you did," I responded while reaching across the table to take his tiny hand in my own, squeezing it in reassurance. He hesitantly squeezed back before looking towards the walls, eyes glazing over in thought.

I continued digging into my pancakes while I stroked the porcelain skin on the back of his hand with my thumb. I'm so happy that I have a boyfriend who can cook. I mean, I would date Angel either way, but this is a nice little benefit that had somehow gotten thrown into the mix.

When I finished my pancakes I got up and set my plate in the sink, washing it off before putting it in the dishwasher. Angel wasn't our maid and I know that he appreciates even the littlest of things. I wanted to make my beloved happy.

I grabbed his hand while I tugged him to the couch, pulling him into my lap. I noticed how he hesitated before he sat down. Something is wrong with my Angel. "Dom, we need to talk." He said softly, grabbing my hand. Fuck, he just proved my suspicions right. This is not good, not good at all. Everyone knows what that fucking line means.

"What about?" I asked nervously, hoping he didn't want to break up with me. I'd be so fucking devastated I'd probably drink myself into oblivion and then some.

"You know what I want to talk to you about," he said as he untangled himself from my arms and sat on the couch. Now he won't even touch me anymore! Why the fuck do I have to be gifted with a gorgeous boyfriend if I can't touch him?

"Are you breaking up with me?" I asked, truly scared for my life. This can not be happening. This can not be fucking happening right now!

"Look, Dom," he said while looking anywhere but at me. "I don't want to break up with you. I care about you way too fucking much to break up with you, but I can't deal with the drinking. It's not even one drink. You come home hammered and don't give two shits about anything!" He just wants me to care about him more...

"You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me," I shot back. I know that my lifestyle isn't well respected and liked, but if you date me you can't expect me to give everything up cold turkey for you. It's the way that I live and I never thought I'd have to change it for someone.

"Yeah, I know," he said sadly, "but I was hoping you'd change for me." Oh God, how I wish I could change for someone like him, but I can't. Without alcohol to move me along I'd be nothing.

"I can't stop drinking out of nowhere," I said exasperatedly. He's not the first one that has tried to do this to me. "It's a big fucking part of my life. Telling me to stop drinking is like telling a newborn to stop drinking his baby formula. Milk. Whatever the hell that shit is!" I threw my hands up. I thought Angel was a logical person, but clearly he is not!

"I'm not asking you to fucking stop!" He said angrily. "I knew that you were going to drink! I just thought you'd have enough respect to tone it down a bit!" He was waving his arms around wildly to prove his point. His face was turning crimson out of anger. I can't believe I could fuck up so badly so quickly that I made my lovely Angel this angry at me. I feel like the worst scum on Earth.

"You can't fucking tell me to stop drinking and expect it to happen overnight!" I fumed, my face probably turning as red as his. "It's not that fucking easy!"

"At least fucking try for me then!" He screamed back. "I know it's gonna be hard to quit but that doesn't mean you can't try! That's all I'm fucking asking for!" He continued as he stomped around the living room, throwing his arms wildly in the air some more.

"I can try." I said, putting extra emphasis on the word. Trying doesn't always mean succeeding. "I promise that I'll try, but that doesn't mean it's gonna work." God, this would be the fucking hardest thing I've done. It's not easy giving up something that is so important to you. Booze is like my second lover, my middle name. It's a part of me whether Angel likes it or not. However, in the end, Angel is more important to me.

I'm just as addicted to Angel as I am to alcohol. Alcohol gives me the ability to forget my problems and it makes me happy. I like to feel the sensation of losing control. I like to give myself up to the alcohol and let it take over, not having to use any form of logic. But Angel... God is he something. When I'm around Angel he is my main concern. I forget all my worries and I drop everything I'm doing for him. I can't imagine not having him around. He momentarily quenches my thirst for alcohol. Instead of drowning myself in beer I could drown myself in Angel.

His features softened as he realized that I'd try for him. "I know, but if you try it would happen eventually... over time... whenever..." he trailed off as he curled into my side. I'd try, no matter how much I don't want to give up alcohol, because I promised my Angel I would. The things this boy does to me.

This is gonna be fucking hard, though. I'm gonna need an insane amount of support. I internally growled just thinking about the withdrawals I would inevitably suffer. "I'm sorry about yesterday," I apologized.

"I hate seeing you like that..." he said sadly. I knew that he really cares about me and hates what I do to myself. "I just want you to try and clean up your act. For you," he said as he twiddled my fingers, meaning every word of it. "And for me." He said as he finally looked into my eyes for the first time during this entire ordeal.

"I'll try," I said again, knowing I meant it. Trying may not be enough for him though. What if it doesn't work out and I hurt him again? I'd never want to live with myself.

"That's all I ask," he assured me as he cupped my face in his tiny hands and pulled my face down to his in a passionate kiss. Do you see why I can't live without such a beautiful, understanding, caring creature in my life?

God, did I love this boy. I'd do anything for him.