This Could Be A Possibility
music will tie
Fazzi is drunk as hell, and laying on his bed groaning. Drinking away his problems works, but not really. He forgets, but only temporarily. And temporary is a better bet that not.
He takes another depressed sip, before burying his face further into his pillow. The door to his room opens, but it’s only his roommate.
“Hey,” Matt calls softly. He sees the bottles, moves about softly. He has no idea what kind of drunk Fazzi is.
Fazzi squints for a bit, before smiling and wiggling his fingers in some sort of semblance of a wave. “Hi.”
He takes another sip, and holds it out for Matt. “Want some?”
“No thanks.”
Fazzi nods again. And takes another sip.
“I love him,” Fazzi says. “I love him a lot.”
“You do?”
“Do you want to be my friend?”
“We are friends,” Matt smiles softly.
Fazzi nods slowly, and pats the spot next to him. “Come here.”
Matt decides to humor him, and plops down.
“If I kiss you, you have to punch me in the face.”
“Why?”
“It’s what friends do.”
Awkward silence. Fazzi takes a drink.
“Want some?”
Matt shrugs. “Sure.”
A good ten minutes is spent passing the bottle of liquor around, before Fazzi decides to say something.
“You’re pretty.” He says thoughtfully.
“Pretty?”
“Yeah. He used to call me pretty. He said I was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.”
“Oh.”
“You’re prettier than he is though.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah. He’d call me pretty, and grab my hips.”
“Oh.”
Pause.
“He doesn’t love me.”
Matt frowns. “What makes you say that?”
Fazzi shrugs. “He just doesn’t. But I love him. I’ll always love him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Fazzi waves his hand. “He made me feel good, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He made me feel good when he kissed me. He always kissed me.” Fazzi pauses to take a look at his empty bottle before sighing, and laying back on his bed. “It’s really hard to make me feel good. I make it so its intentional-ly hard to make myself feel good.”
“I’m sorry,” Matt repeats, then looks at Fazzi. “He’s kind of an asshole if he decided not to be with you anymore.”
“He doesn’t know it yet.”
“How?”
“I caught him fucking someone,” Fazzi spits out, furrowing his brow. “It’s always like that. But he said he loved me.”
Matt doesn’t say anything. Fazzi sits up, leaning really close to him.
Matt just stares, because Fazzi is really close. But then fazzi’s not really close anymore, because he’s half in Matt’s lap, kissing him.
The kiss is something in itself. It sad, hopeful, curious and many other things. It’s sloppy and open-mouthed and simple. Despite everything, it’s simple. It’s weird, matt thinks, that his night has taken such a drastic turn. He got kicked out of the library, came back to his room to find his roommate three sheets (no, fuck three sheets. Just throw the whole damn tree) to the wind, talking about his stupid, unfaithful boyfriend. His roommate, who would rather burn his innards twelve times over, before thinking about speaking more than eighteen words before tonight (though, it’s probably up to, like, one hundred now).
And he gets kissing practice out of it, too.
“Are we friends?” Fazzi asks again, licking his lips and staring at matt’s mouth.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you punch me in the face?” He looks at Matt with those damn Bambi eyes.
“It wouldn’t have been very nice,” Matt explains, while petting Fazzi on the head. “Friends don’t punch other friends in the face for kissing each other.”
No. Friends beat the shit out of other friends who try to kiss them. While drunk.
“I’m sorry.” Fazzi blushes, and fiddles with his hands. “You make me feel good. A little bit.”
“Oh, cool.”
“I want to kiss you again.”
“You should go to sleep.” Matt scratches his head. “You have class early tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
Fazzi analyzes matt for a couple of seconds, before saying, “Can I kiss you goodnight?”
“Yes.”
Fazzi leans close again, getting the corner of Matt’s mouth. He presses his forehead against Matt’s for a couple of seconds, before yawning.
“Good night friend.”
Matt tucks Fazzi in, before walking to his respective side of the room. He changes into his nightwear, before laying in bed.
He looks at fazzi’s curled form, watching him until he decides to fall asleep as well.
He takes another depressed sip, before burying his face further into his pillow. The door to his room opens, but it’s only his roommate.
“Hey,” Matt calls softly. He sees the bottles, moves about softly. He has no idea what kind of drunk Fazzi is.
Fazzi squints for a bit, before smiling and wiggling his fingers in some sort of semblance of a wave. “Hi.”
He takes another sip, and holds it out for Matt. “Want some?”
“No thanks.”
Fazzi nods again. And takes another sip.
“I love him,” Fazzi says. “I love him a lot.”
“You do?”
“Do you want to be my friend?”
“We are friends,” Matt smiles softly.
Fazzi nods slowly, and pats the spot next to him. “Come here.”
Matt decides to humor him, and plops down.
“If I kiss you, you have to punch me in the face.”
“Why?”
“It’s what friends do.”
Awkward silence. Fazzi takes a drink.
“Want some?”
Matt shrugs. “Sure.”
A good ten minutes is spent passing the bottle of liquor around, before Fazzi decides to say something.
“You’re pretty.” He says thoughtfully.
“Pretty?”
“Yeah. He used to call me pretty. He said I was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.”
“Oh.”
“You’re prettier than he is though.”
“Thank you.”
“Yeah. He’d call me pretty, and grab my hips.”
“Oh.”
Pause.
“He doesn’t love me.”
Matt frowns. “What makes you say that?”
Fazzi shrugs. “He just doesn’t. But I love him. I’ll always love him.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Fazzi waves his hand. “He made me feel good, though.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. He made me feel good when he kissed me. He always kissed me.” Fazzi pauses to take a look at his empty bottle before sighing, and laying back on his bed. “It’s really hard to make me feel good. I make it so its intentional-ly hard to make myself feel good.”
“I’m sorry,” Matt repeats, then looks at Fazzi. “He’s kind of an asshole if he decided not to be with you anymore.”
“He doesn’t know it yet.”
“How?”
“I caught him fucking someone,” Fazzi spits out, furrowing his brow. “It’s always like that. But he said he loved me.”
Matt doesn’t say anything. Fazzi sits up, leaning really close to him.
Matt just stares, because Fazzi is really close. But then fazzi’s not really close anymore, because he’s half in Matt’s lap, kissing him.
The kiss is something in itself. It sad, hopeful, curious and many other things. It’s sloppy and open-mouthed and simple. Despite everything, it’s simple. It’s weird, matt thinks, that his night has taken such a drastic turn. He got kicked out of the library, came back to his room to find his roommate three sheets (no, fuck three sheets. Just throw the whole damn tree) to the wind, talking about his stupid, unfaithful boyfriend. His roommate, who would rather burn his innards twelve times over, before thinking about speaking more than eighteen words before tonight (though, it’s probably up to, like, one hundred now).
And he gets kissing practice out of it, too.
“Are we friends?” Fazzi asks again, licking his lips and staring at matt’s mouth.
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you punch me in the face?” He looks at Matt with those damn Bambi eyes.
“It wouldn’t have been very nice,” Matt explains, while petting Fazzi on the head. “Friends don’t punch other friends in the face for kissing each other.”
No. Friends beat the shit out of other friends who try to kiss them. While drunk.
“I’m sorry.” Fazzi blushes, and fiddles with his hands. “You make me feel good. A little bit.”
“Oh, cool.”
“I want to kiss you again.”
“You should go to sleep.” Matt scratches his head. “You have class early tomorrow, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
Fazzi analyzes matt for a couple of seconds, before saying, “Can I kiss you goodnight?”
“Yes.”
Fazzi leans close again, getting the corner of Matt’s mouth. He presses his forehead against Matt’s for a couple of seconds, before yawning.
“Good night friend.”
Matt tucks Fazzi in, before walking to his respective side of the room. He changes into his nightwear, before laying in bed.
He looks at fazzi’s curled form, watching him until he decides to fall asleep as well.
♠ ♠ ♠
Set fire to the rain.(I made this one up, so its not on the list)
In my opinion (because I know you asked for it), 'Set fire to the rain' = trying to get rid of something you can't get rid of, or aren't ready to.