There was no logical decision to how the night progressed – or rather, how it regressed.

There wasn't really a decision at all. One drink had led to another which had led to another. Eventually, I had lost all count of the number of units I had consumed. However, I was all too aware of the warm buzz in my veins and how relaxed my body was. Alcohol was powerful like that.

It was good.

What did it matter if I barely remembered my own name and why I had been drinking in the first place? Everything was lighter and brighter than it had been in days, even if my arms were heavy and clumsy.

The world was a distant blur as Richie escorted me down the steps to my flat, his grip firmly around my arm as he propped me upright. My mourning clothes were decidedly worse for wear, the top button of my dress lost somewhere in the pub. The fabric was damp against my skin and smelled strongly of beer. I glanced down and wrinkled my nose as I tugged it away from my chest. It returned to its position just as quickly.

Even my hair had come loose from its tie and hung in crunchy thick tendrils around my face.

I swayed on my feet as I fumbled with my bag to find my keys.

"Do you need help?"

Blinking, I glanced up at Richie before holding my bag open to him. Within a second or two, he had my keys in his hand. His free arm reached past me, the keys jingling loudly as he inserted them into the lock.

It was like déjà vu. Him. Me. The smallest of gaps between us. The scent of his much more pleasant aftershave surrounding me like a comforting blanket. I drew in a deep breath, grateful that it overwhelmed the stench of stale beer. This was nice. He's nice.

My gaze drifted up to his face. With the heat of his body so close to mine, the memory of the last time we had been in this position flashed to the forefront of my mind. My breath hitched.

Richie glanced down at me, a furrow between his eyebrows. He swallowed. The expression on his face was easy to read. He was thinking about the same thing as me. Our almost kiss.

Except, I'm sure his mind wasn't torturing him with the shame and embarrassment. That was all for me.

I turned my head away and broke his gaze. He pushed the door to my little flat open. It creaked loudly in the quiet of the night.

"Are you going to be okay?"

I shrugged even as I slurred, "I'm always okay."

"I'm worried about you."

Hah.

He placed his hands on my shoulders to hold me steady. He ducked so his face met mine. "I'm serious."

I frowned. Did I say that out loud? I must have. I shook my head and shrugged off his hold. My body swayed back and forth as he stepped back.

"Just go home, Richie." 

"I don't think you should be alone." He replied, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "You've had a lot to drink and you've been going through a lot. I could sleep on the sofa so I'm there if you need me."

I stepped in front of him, leaning heavily on the doorframe in a poor attempt to hide how drunk I was. My hand scrabbled to hold on to the doorframe as I swayed on my feet. My body barely blocked his path but the intentions were clear.

Despite how fuzzy my head was, I tilted my chin up and met his stare straight on. "I don't want you to come in." I attempted to sound firm but, with the slur to my words, it lost some of its effectiveness. "I don't need you. I will handle this alone like I always do."

Richie opened his mouth to protest but, after a beat, he exhaled. "Okay. If that's what you want."

"It is."

He placed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and shrugged his shoulders. "Right. I'll go then. But first, go in and lock the door."

"How about you leave and I'll lock the door when you're gone?" Internally, I winced. And yet, I couldn't help myself from pushing back. The urge to challenge him in every way I could was like an irritating pop up I couldn't escape. 

"Rosie, why are you being difficult? I'm just trying to help. I'm just trying to make sure you are safe."

"Well, no one asked you to."

"You're wrong there. Your dad and your sister asked me to keep an eye on you. They're worried about you."

I snorted loudly and glanced away.

"They love you and care about you. I - ." He paused and shook his head. He tilted his head up to the sky as if some divine power would give him all of the answers.

"Fine. I'll go in. But you can tell everyone to mind their own business."

There was a long sigh at my back but Richie didn't comment any further. He looked anywhere than at me as he took a step backwards. Why did that hurt so much?

With a nod, which made the world spin far too much for my liking, I tripped over the door jamb into my flat. I gasped. Hands caught my waist, steadying me before I could face plant the floor. My eyes squeezed closed as my stomach twisted uncomfortably.

Why did I always make a fool out of myself in front of him? Why couldn't it be anyone else?

Once I righted myself, I turned and took hold of the door. I inhaled deeply before I peered up at Richie. The street light on the road above cast half of him in a yellow glow, the other half in shadow. He was always here when I needed him. He was truly the one of a kind. An incredible man who had tried to be my friend even when I was being an absolute bitch. Who had been at my side in the hospital even after everything I had done.

He had never retaliated for my poor behaviour even when it would be easy.

I averted my gaze, my stomach churning uncomfortably. 

I don't deserve him. Not even a little bit.

I was already falling apart. It was only sheer willpower that was keeping things together. I wouldn't bring him down with me.

"Goodnight, Richie," I said softly, pulling the door close to my body.

His eyes roved over me then, though not in a sexual way. There was only concern etched upon his face. Then, he sighed. 

My hand flexed around the door frame. My lips pressed together as he turned his face away. Was I disappointed about his lack of attraction? Did I want him to want me? I couldn't be sure. The thought fizzed away on a tide of vodka induced mind fog. I wasn't sure of anything other than the fact that the peaceful lethargy was starting to recede.

He ran his hand through his hair before backing up a step. "Goodnight, Rosie. I'll see you at work."

I nodded my head, though work the furthest thing from my mind, before I swung the door shut. I engaged the lock. Then, making no attempt to turn on the overhead lights, I staggered deeper into my flat.

With every step I took, each lock of my tightly fought control sprung open. My arms and legs trembled, my eyes burned with the need to cry out the pain. And yet, there was no outlet big enough. There was no way to purge the feeling churning with me.

Bleary eyed, I banged and crashed into every piece of furniture. Did someone move them?

Staggering away, I crashed into the kitchen table with a loud bang, pain shot through my thigh.

"Fuuuuck." I whined into the quiet of my flat. "That fucking hurts."

Breathing deeply through the flash of pain, I braced my hands on the wooden surface as I fought to regain my equilibrium. My eyes drifted to the innocuous bottles of wine gathered on the table. They were intended to be a gift for others. To thank them for their support over the past few weeks but I stared at them now, I knew they would never reach their intended recipients.

The buzz of the alcohol was receding by the moment, the grief was clawing its way to the forefront.

Without thought, I grasped the nearest bottle and unscrewed the cap with shaky hands. Tears gathered at the corner of my eyes as sharp pain lanced through my chest. A pain I wasn't ready to face. Then, I lifted the bottle to my lips and I drank.

Then I drank some more. One bottle after the next until the hours and minutes blended in together. I drank until I could no longer feel the grief which was attempting to drag me under. I drank until, at long last, I fell into a dreamless sleep.

And, when the memories came back in the morning, I opened up another bottle and drank some more. I drank even when my body fought back. The physical discomfort was more welcome than the hurt in my heart.

My hand trembled as I slumped onto the sofa and drank deeply. I knew I would have to face reality soon. But, for now, forgetting was easier. 

I want to forget.