The more Rhys drinks, the more sober I become. For reasons only known to himself, he is numbing each and every one of those reasons with alcohol. I think he's gone into self destruct mode and I am scared. He doesn't really want to be here but doesn't want to leave. He hates that he feels the way that he does but is powerless to stop feeling it. He's emotionally mixed up and with an audience and far too much alcohol; it's a killer combination.

Needing to do something about it, I quietly ask everyone to stop getting him drinks. He's had more than enough of Jack Daniels and vodka. He's now barely able to sit, let alone stand. "Rhys? Maybe we should think about going?" I ask in a placating tone, not wanting him to feel like I am mothering him.

"Nooooooo! Home is for pussies!" He loudly declares, trying to hug me but nearly slides off his seat.

Will can see for himself that his friend is in a right mess and joins me with my worries. "Dude, I think Clara is right."

"Nooooooo! Home is for pussies!" Rhys loudly declares again, smiling only to himself. "I need another drink!" He's now demanding more alcohol.

Whispering to Will, I decide to just get him some iced water. "I'll be back in a mo, I'm just going to grab some water."

"Good idea." Will smiles before looking back at a very slumped Rhys.

At the bar, I anxiously wait to be served. Cameron comes up behind me, wearing the same shade of worry that I wear. "He's not in a good way, is he?"

With a solemn shake of my head, I regretfully answer. "No, he's not. I'm just getting him some water because he's refusing to leave." I nervously bite down on my lower lip, feeling guilty and upset that I've let him drink as much as he has. "The night started off well but I knew that Rhys wasn't ready for this...he's too torn apart because of Maci."

Cam understandingly nods. "For years now, Maci has been slowly ripping him apart. Now that she's died, I think Rhys doesn't quite know how to feel. Guilt. Relief. Hate. Or sadness." The soft inflection in Cameron's kind voice makes the full force of the tragedy hit me once again, and when it hits, it hurts. Before I have time to stop it in its tracks, I am crying. Still a little worse for wear myself, the alcohol has lowered my ability to keep all of my increasing emotions in check. "Clara, don't cry." Cam is cuddling me against him, trying to offer me a bright side to the miserable situation. "Rhys is nearing his rock bottom, but from there, he will claw his way back and he will claw his way back to you." Squeezing me hard, his tone is gentle and sacrificing. I know that Cam likes me but he respects how I feel about Rhys, and ultimately, he respects Rhys.

"What the hell is this?" Barely able to stand and heavily slurring, Rhys is staring at us both with half-lidded eyes.

Cameron slowly removes his right arm from where it was on my slumped shoulder. "Clara was just a little upset, that's all." His answer is quick and confident.

Swaying, Rhys blinks at us with obvious inebriation. "Really? Well, if Clara really is that upset...maybe she should talk to her boyfriend, that's me by the way." He taps Cameron on the top of his arm before tapping himself in the chest. "Instead of the first guy to show her some inappropriate attention." Rhys's words and his stare on me cut like a blunt knife.

Cam is just as quick to defend me. "That's enough, Rhys."

Trying to square up to him, Rhys stumbles forward. "Enough of what?"

"You know what." Cameron refuses to back down but when his eyes flick across to mine, he sees how afraid I am. "Listen, Rhys, I know you're going through some awful shit at the moment, but don't take it out on those who care about you."

Rhys looks slowly at Cam, then back at me, any quick movements will more than likely cause him to topple over. "So you both care about me, huh?" He laughs, sarcastically. "You both care about me soooooooo much, that as soon as my back is turned, you can't keep your hands off each other!"

Now, I'm angry. To the undrunk eye, anyone could see that Cameron was merely consoling me. Drained of all my energy, I simply hold my chin high and look at Rhys with resignation and sadness. It's no point in trying to argue my point when he's in this incapable stupor. "I'm going out for some air." I walk away from them both, I just need some time to think.

"I'm sure Cam will keep you company!" Rhys slurs his insult from behind me.

His reviled sarcasm are like tiny sharp knives being thrown at my back, but I just keep on walking because it kills me to be around him at the moment.

Outside the back of the club, all alone, the chill of the Californian night air brings fresh air to my aching lungs.

Everything aches.

To think.

To feel.

It all aches.

Looking up at the dark heavens, I think about how this night has done a total 360 degrees on its destructive head.

Rhys never should have come.

He never should have drunk so much.

With a clearer head and a clearer perspective, my anger and hurt is being diluted. All that I am feeling, Rhys is feeling on a far more grander and confused scale. He's suffering in stubborn silence. He isn't thinking straight and that is making him feel insecure and vulnerable. His reaction to Cameron and I, is clear confirmation of those insecurities and his vulnerability. I knew he was fragile and vulnerable. With so many emotions drowning who he is as a person, he keeps fighting against it because he feels like he is losing himself and losing control. That feeling of powerlessness, anger and grief; creates a lethal cocktail. Breathing in a deep and slow breath, I now feel ready to face him again. Closing the outside door carefully behind me, I hear groans and giggles coming from just around the corner of the corridor. It's Rhys who is groaning but also calling out my name. My heels don't cooperate as quick as I'd like them to. "Clara! No! Don't!" Rhys can still be heard, mumbling and groaning loudly, sounding drunk and distressed.

As soon as I turn the corner, I see a sight that turns my stomach nauseously over and over. Rhys is struggling to stand with his back against a wall and Gabriela is attached to him like a blood-sucking tick. Trying to push her away with what little drunk strength he has left, Rhys keeps telling her no and keeps calling out my name. But the low-life Gabriela carries on trying to kiss his neck, and what is gut-wrenchingly worse, she is trying to capture it all with shameless selfies. Rhys is lost within an unfeeling fog of intoxicated despair and guilt and has reached his lowest point. He's dragged himself into an alcohol-fuelled pity party and this bitch is trying to have it all on her phone to share to the world? My fury detonates within me. We all have an inner psycho if the right buttons are pressed, and god damn, this hussy had pressed every single one of mine. In my ridiculously high heels, I run up the side of Gabriela and crash against her, causing the vile cow to fall backwards and drop her phone. Staring down at it, I then use my pointed and heinous heel to destroy her aiding and abetting phone. Repeatedly, I stamp on it, breaking it beyond repair. "What the hell are you doing?" She screams at me from where she's crumpled on the floor. "That's my phone! Stop it!"

With the deepest of satisfaction, my heel twists deeper into the broken pieces of glass. Once me and my heel are done with totally annihilating her mobile, I bend down to proudly inspect the damage. Turning it over, I discover that the back is hanging off and that the SIM card is still in tact. Lifting it out, I then smugly stand tall and break it in two as I stare disgustingly back at her.

Her eyes and mouth are wide and aghast with shock. "What have you done?" She finally manages to ask, slowly standing but choosing to keep a safe distance away from me and my fury.

Stepping closer to her, I hold my furious ground. "You have two seconds to get out of here, before your face ends up looking just like your phone." And I meant it. I was beyond angry at this woman. To treat Rhys the way she just has and to giggle about it whilst trying to get it all on her phone as well, she physically makes me sick.

Gabriela is scared and she should be. Taking careful steps backwards, she almost looks too afraid to turn her back on me. Once she feels safe enough to do so, she turns and quickly runs away down the corridor.

Blowing away a pumped up breath, I look over at Rhys who has now actually slid down onto the floor in a drunken heap. "Hey, can you stand?" I gently ask, kneeling down opposite him.

"Clara?" Rhys asks, unable to actually lift up his head.

Lowering myself down so that he can easily see me, I smile back at him. "I'm here."

"I'm sorry." His loud and slurred apology echoes between the corridor walls. "Nothing happened. I couldn't get her off. I'm so sorry."

"I know, baby. Let's get you home." I really should go and find someone to help me lift him up, but I don't want to leave him after what has just happened. Rhys is a mess, inside and out. It's just best if I take him with me to find someone to help and then bring him back this way to discreetly leave the club. I noticed that there were security guarding the end of the alleyway when I needed some fresh air earlier on. They are there to stop any plucky paps from getting a sneaky pic of any celebs that want to slip out unnoticed—and I really do want to slip out with Rhys unnoticed. The last thing he needs is to have a shot and a story of him being printed about how absolutely wasted he got. No, not going to happen! I may give myself a hernia in the process, but I'll protect Rhys no matter what.

With great difficulty, between the two of us, we somehow manage to get him up off the floor and leaning precariously against the wall. Placing his limp arm around my shoulder and holding him tight around his waist, I feel safe enough to take his drunken weight. "Please don't fall, I don't think my heels can take any more drama tonight." I'm trying to make light of our situation as we take really slow footsteps together.

Sluggishly smirking, Rhys mumbles. "I'll buy you ten new pairs."

Chuckling, my supportive arm grasps him even tighter. "I will hold you to that."

"Clara?" Rhys quietly says my name with a deep tone of fragility coating it.

"Yeah?"

"I really do love you." He uses all of his strength to slightly lift his heavy head so that his glazed spheres can look at me. "Thank you for being here." Then his head drops down hard again.

Squeezing him tighter, I smile at nothing but the space in the long corridor. Rhys isn't just thanking me for tonight, he is thanking me for staying with him after Maci died. He's thanking me for staying and for still loving him through it all. Even in his darkest of times, I am here and still loving him. He is still yet to find out that I intend on staying a whole lot longer—like forever longer.