Note: depictions of grief and unhealthy coping mechanisms in this chapter.

• • •

After the brief drive to Andrew's and Nancy's home, Levi and Andrew work together to get George out of the car. The journey between the Wake venue and the house, despite physically being short, felt as though it lasted forever; such with George's drunken state. He spent the entire ride singing some of his mother's favourite tunes, perhaps without realising the correlation between his song choices and this poignant fact. After much struggling, the trio finally make it inside; Nancy follows after them, to ensure George doesn't fall backwards. They arrive into the living room, pushing him down onto the sofa so he's safe.

"How about watching some TV?" Andrew offers, tossing George the remote control. "You can choose whatever you want to. Or maybe there's something on Netflix that you'd prefer."

"Can I have a drink?" George requests, his speech slurring a little. "You said I could have a drink when we got to yours. We're here now, aren't we?"

"I-I think maybe some water would do you good," Andrew answers him. "How does some water sound?"

"Don't fucking do this," George demands; his tone is bordering on becoming stern, but isn't threatening in any way. "Alcoholic. It's the only way to go."

"You can have one," Levi informs him. "But then I'm putting my foot down. You're going to be blacking out soon, if you're not careful."

"Oh, behave, Levi." George scoffs, swatting the air as though his husband is telling the biggest lie. "I know my limits. I'm not there yet. I'm fine."

"Don't let him have more than one, Andy." Levi turns his attention to George's buddy, offering a serious expression to prove he means business; of course, it's clear that Levi only wants George to be safe — though George doesn't seem to view it this way.

"I'll grab him one bottle out of the fridge." Andrew disappears from the room for a moment or two, returning quickly with a bottle of beer in his hand. He approaches George, handing it to him. "Here you go, mate. I took the cap off for you. But that's the only one you're having — Levi's instructions."

"I thought Levi was the fun, risky one," George huffs, tipping back half the bottle in just a couple of swallows; he grimaces slightly at the sudden change in tipple. "It's alright. I'll raid the house when he's not looking." With this comment, he adds a laugh, which leaves Andrew questioning whether George means what he says or not.

"Water," Nancy blurts, dashing to the kitchen to fill a glass for George to take sips at once he's done with the alcohol. She re-enters the room, before leaving the water on the coffee table before him. "Here you go. Try this one once you've finished the beer."

George glances at the glass in disapproval, then makes quick work of the remaining beverage from the drink he's holding. He slams the empty bottle against the table, to signify that he has finished with it; he then brings his arms up, tucking them behind his head as he leans back into the cushioned bliss of the sofa. "Those ones are good. I'll claim a few more of those before bed time."

"Not while I'm watching over you," Levi assures him, in the most lighthearted way he can, as not to cause any friction. "I'm keeping you safe tonight, George."

• • •

By the time it hits eleven o'clock at night, nobody can recognise George any longer; never in his fifty-one years of life has he ever become quite so intoxicated by any form of substance, before this day. Despite some protesting from Levi, George has somehow managed to drink a further four bottles of beer; as well as a few shot-sized glasses of other beverages. Andrew has not encouraged George's behaviour in any form, nor has Nancy — but at the same time, neither of them have wanted to take control of a grown man's life, particularly when his husband is present to do so.

"I think it's time for bed," Levi announces; in the last few minutes, he has observed that George is a lot more lethargic than he has been over the course of the evening thus far. "You look like you're starting to regret everything, my darling."

"Fuck," George groans; despite being a modestly sun-kissed individual, it is easy to spot the pigmentation draining from his skin more and more as time progresses. He can no longer stand himself up; he requires the help of Levi and Andrew if he wishes to move anywhere past the sofa he's sprawled on. He closes his eyes, as a wave of extreme dizziness rushes over him; deeming him useless. "I can't see anything."

"How many fingers am I holding up?" Levi quizzes, holding up four of his fingers to test his partner.

George dares to open his eyes for a moment, trying to find where Levi is stood before him; with glazed-over irises, he answers. "Too many."

"That's definitely the sign that it's bed time," Nancy snickers; she has been watching George's drunkenness unfold for the last few hours, but hasn't wanted to intervene too much. "Forget seeing double. He seems to be seeing quadruple."

"I wonder if he can see just how pale he is," Levi adds, obviously aware of what the answer is. "I think the wisest idea would be to get him to the bathroom. He doesn't look good at all. I feel like your carpets will thank you for it."

"Bloody hell." Andrew leaps up, taking one side of George's body while Levi takes the other. The men pull George up the stairs; they begin to panic when George starts making quiet retching sounds. "Come on, Levi. I don't think he's handling this very well."

With all the strength they have left, they finally get George into the bathroom; the Greek collapses onto the bathroom rug, laying beside the toilet. Levi takes in this sight sadly; he receives no joy from watching his husband suffer so much as a result of losing his mother. Deciding it's best to reposition him, Levi lifts the top half of George's body, so that his head hangs just above the toilet seat. Right on cue, George gags harshly; before bringing up the contents of his stomach — which, it goes without saying, is entirely alcohol. Levi attempts to make sure no mess is made on the floor or on any furniture; Andrew stands back and pitifully watches as his best friend throws up violently as a result of his own actions. Once George is done, he makes no attempt at anything; he is painfully unaware of everything that is occurring around him, or to his own self. His head falls weakly to the floor, as he finally slips into unconsciousness.

"I'm almost glad he's blacked out," Levi murmurs, a melancholy tone in his hushed voice. "He needed to calm down with the alcohol tonight."

"I've never seen him like this," Andrew responds. "We used to go out on piss-ups when we were kids, and he would get paralytic back then. But this ... is entirely different."

"I just hope he doesn't rely on this to drown his sorrows," Levi frowns. "Because we have two kids to think about. He has a job to consider. I don't want him to throw his life away because of his mum dying."

"Maybe it was just a one-off," Andrew suggests hopefully. "Maybe it was just the fact it was the funeral. Maybe he just wanted to celebrate his mum's life, or something."

"I really hope you're right." Levi scoops the upper half of his lover up from off the ground, holding him tightly in his arms to protect him from injury. Andrew, taking the hint that his help is required, grabs George's legs; the pair carry him into the guest room, laying him neatly across the bed so that he can be comfortable for the night. "Thank you, Andy."

"It's nothing." Andrew averts his eyes to George once again. "I just want Yog to be alright. He's been through enough shit to last a lifetime. I knew when the time came for Lesley to pass, it would break him. I just pray that it's less than I thought. Right now, I don't hold out much hope."

"He has all the right people around him," Levi comments. "So I'm hoping that's enough to pull him through."

• • •

"Oh, you're finally stirring. I was wondering when you'd come crashing back down to earth."

Levi's playfully mocking voice is the first thing George hears once his senses start to kick in, the following afternoon. He has slept through the night; and through the entire morning, too.

"What time is it? Where are we?" George groans, his alertness not quite up-to-scratch just yet.

"We're still in London. We're at Andrew's house." Levi checks the watch on his wrist quickly. "And it's two-thirty-four in the afternoon. Do you remember anything from around ... three o'clock yesterday afternoon?"

"No," George answers, his face contorting as the agonising hangover headache begins to pound in his temples. "What happened?"

"Well, let's just say you got very drunk." Andrew's voice chiming in, is what causes the couple to turn their heads to the doorway of the bedroom. "And you blacked out just a bit before midnight. You'd been drinking since the Wake, yesterday."

Out of nowhere, George leaps up. "Where are the kids? Are they okay?" He darts his woozy eyes left and right, trying to gain a shred of context as to his children's whereabouts.

"Relax." Levi rests a comforting hand against George's arm. "Mum's got them. They slept at hers last night, so that you could stay here. You were the one who called her about it."

"I don't remember any of this." George's voice gives out, at the sudden remorse he feels for his actions over the last twenty-four hours; he buries his head into both hands. "I've fucked everything up, haven't I?"

"It's understandable," Andrew assures him, venturing further into the bedroom. "You're grieving, Yog. Everyone grieves in different ways."

"What? By getting paralytic and neglecting their kids?" George shakes his head, before withdrawing from the darkness his fingers have briefly provided him with. "We need to get home and pick them up. I feel like the worst father in the world."

"Trust me when I say — there's far worse than you, my darling." Levi gives him the most sincere, yet melancholy smile, to make him feel at least a little better. "Once you're back on your feet after all this, you'll go back to being the greatest dad the kids could ask for. Heck — you already are, even when you feel like you're drowning."

Still not convinced, George forces himself out of bed shakily; he struggles because of how awful he feels from the amount of alcohol he consumed the night before. "I'm going to brush my teeth. All I can taste is this horrible mix of beer and sick. It's disgusting."

"We had to clean the bathroom floor last night, too," Andrew teases. "You missed the toilet a little when you finally realised you couldn't handle the booze."

"Shit." George frowns at this knowledge. "I'm so sorry, Andrew."

"Don't be. Just try not to get yourself in that state again, hey?" Andrew chuckles softly, his way of making light of the situation. "I know it's hard once you get going, but just remember how guilty you feel the morning after. Maybe find healthier ways to cope until the storm passes."

"I didn't even plan to use it as a coping mechanism," George acknowledges. "I thought I was just celebrating Mum's life at the Wake. I only remember telling some stories about her to some distant family members. I don't remember anything after that."

"Well, you know now." Levi links arms with his husband, to help him along to the bathroom. "Although, it may be wise to call my mum before we set off for home. Explain that you weren't quite in your right mind when you called her yesterday."

"That goes without saying," George agrees, shielding his forehead with his free hand once again. "I've got a lot of apologising to do to a lot of people. I'm mortified about all of this."

• • •

"Thank you so much for letting us stay over last night." George shows his gratitude to his best friend with a tight hug. "I'm sorry I don't remember ninety percent of it. We'll arrange something once I'm ... out of this foggy cloud I'm stuck in."

"It's no problem, mate. Take it easy, won't you?" Andrew rests his hands upon George's arms to keep the pair in place; he takes a moment to observe his lifelong pal. "I'll call you in the next few days, to see how you're doing. You're not on your own."

"Thank you. See you soon." George nods; feeling it unnecessary to respond any further, he gets in the passenger seat of the car, as Levi enters from the driver side. With a wave, the pair drive off, back towards Goring together. George slips his iPhone from his pocket, finding Penny's contact and clicking onto it. He puts the phone on speaker, so that Levi can contribute to the conversation if he wishes; the phone rings a few times, until Penny answers.

"Hello? George?" she greets.

"I'm so sorry for yesterday," George blurts. "I wasn't in my right mind at all. And before you ask, I'm definitely paying the price today."

"Not to worry, sweetheart. I know you were struggling yesterday. The kids are fine here with me."

"It shouldn't matter that I was struggling," George dismisses, annoyed with himself. "I don't even remember calling you yesterday, but I'm so sorry that I was so unfair."

"Honestly, don't even be sorry. Are you on your way home?"

"Yeah, we just set off from London." George leans his head against his arm; against the car window.

"We should have been home a lot earlier," Levi explains. "But somebody didn't wake up until nearly three o'clock in the afternoon. And then it took him three hours to calm his stomach down enough to get in the car without re-seeing the drink he had last night."

"Don't even talk about that," George pleads. "I feel sick just thinking about alcohol of any sorts right now."

Levi laughs a little at his partner's self-inflicted misfortune. "We'll be home in just under two hours, Mum. See you soon."

"Okay darling. See you soon."

George hangs up the phone, carelessly tossing it into the glove compartment in front of him. He closes his eyes to try and rid some of the headache he has, as the pair silently drive back home.

• • •

Oh dear, George! Hope you're still enjoying the story. xx