A/N:
Again, I do not advocate substance abuse in the least. That being said, read with caution.

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I'm extremely happy that I don't have to work today. Also, I'm happy because it's a Saturday and I'm at my best friend's nightclub. Even if it's the club I usually bar tend at I don't care because I am so fucking bent right now. When you have the right connections you can obliterate your brain from existence.  Oh, and you can keep your job at the same time.

I look out onto the dance floor and watch the gyrating bodies from the exclusive section Trevor has above everyone else. There may be people out there but it just looks like a blur of colors to me right now. I grab my drink off the sill and down the entire thing from top to bottom. Fucked up are not even the words right now.  The ceiling is fucking melting into the wall.

I rub my face in my hands roughly. I can't even feel my hands on it. I can't feel much of anything and that was exactly the point of coming here. Oh, fuck. I close my eyes as another wonderfully numbing wave rides through me. I can practically feel the bass of the music thrumming through my body.

I open my eyes but it takes almost a century for them to fully open. At least that's what it seems like. The world slows down around me and it's the most beautiful fucking feeling.  Well, besides being with Monica last night.

What the fuck? Nope. 

I turn abruptly and stumble my way over to the private bar. I think I ask for a drink. I'm pretty sure I do at least. I can't feel my face or my mouth anymore so I'm not sure if I truly have the capability to form words properly. The guy slides me a glass of something which tells me that I did. I swing that back slamming the glass on the countertop after I finish. 

Oh fuck, I broke it. Whoops...

"Sean, you should probably slow it down." Trevor looks slightly concerned but he should really stop talking because he has ten faces right now. I'm not sure which one to pay attention to as he says, "not that I'm any better myself but damn, man. I have never seen you this messed up."        

Hah.  Says the guy with ten, wait, twelve fucking faces.

I don't respond. I just shrug because I'm afraid if I open my mouth he'll know just how messed up I really am. That's when that last drink slips into my veins. One, two, three... The lights are on but nobody's home. Sean doesn't live here anymore.

-&-

My head. Oh fuck. My heeeaaad.

I groan loudly as I place my palm over my right eye. What time is it? What day is it? What year is it? Fuck, what century am I in? I try to open my eyes. Trying to open them is the equivalent to lifting a fuck-ton of weight right now. Once I manage to finally get the damn things open I look at my surroundings.

Okay, firstly, I'm still at the club. I'm assuming this is a good thing because it means I didn't leave and do something stupid last night. Wait, scratch that, why does my right eye hurt so bad? Yeah, I definitely did something stupid. I feel a stirring at my feet. What the fuck is that? I look down to see a woman in just a G-string curled up by my feet like a god damn house cat.

I grimace down at her. Tell me I did not stick my dick in that. Please, tell me I did not fuck that woman. She looks like she is riddled with chlamydia. If I did I really, truly fucking hope I had enough sense to double wrap my dick and then saran wrap it. At least I have my pants on but where the fuck is my shirt?

"So, I have a good story for you." Trevor's groggy voice comes from the other corner of the room.

"I don't even want to know."  I really don't. I really, truly, utterly don't because I know the type of dumb shit I'm capable of.

"Trust me, this one is probably one of my favorites yet." I can tell by the goofy laugh he makes that I'm probably not going to be too amused with myself.

"Oh, well isn't that just fucking fantastic, Trev." I'm glad my blackouts amuse someone.

"Cora there, the girl basically cuddling your feet," I cringe at the word "has a husband."

"Of course she does." I put both hands over my face and groan. Bravo, Sean.

"She was flirting with you so I wouldn't be too hard on yourself. Which, honestly, I don't even understand why she was because you were barely coherent. Well, anyway, you..."

I hold my hand up and interrupt, "even though I may be a complete asshole, I'm a good-looking asshole. Most women like this," I point down to her "want a proper cock and a good fuck." That and they probably see the glowing fucking and sucking neon sign on my forehead.

He makes a face and rolls his eyes, "you're so fucking arrogant, Sean."

"Yeah, but I also have some other man's housewife lying at my feet like an obedient labrador retriever." A yellow lab specifically because she is blonde.

He sighs. "True, but still, you said something to her about being able to fuck her so hard she'll see a lunar eclipse or something along those lines."

"Sounds about right." Fuck me and my big mouth.

"Unluckily for you her husband was right there and punched you in the face."

That explains it. The throbbing pain in my skull is not just from substance abuse but from physical abuse as well. I know both entirely too well. Welcome to the world of darkness again, Sean.

"Even though you were gone man. Seriously, you were checked the fuck out up here," he taps his skull. "You beat the holy hell out of him.  It took three guys to pull you off of him."

I'm sure it did because don't fucking touch me. I hate when people touch me. Especially if it's a male touching me.

"Did I fuck her?" it's the only question I have that I really care about. I don't care about the rest of the story. I just want to know if I have to go get tested for everything under the sun. Even though this woman has a husband she's clearly screwing everyone on the planet. Well, it would appear she's trying to at least. Just like me.

"No, you sat down on the couch there" he points over to where I am "she began stripping, stripping in front of everyone. She took your shirt off, telling you to," he stops and thinks for a moment "ahh, that's right, she kept asking you to put your dick in her while climbing on top of you. You, as per usual, started freaking out and pushed her to the ground. She was so messed up she just passed out."

Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful. At least I don't have to get tested because I'd surely have something that caused nasty itching for days, probably weeks. Thank god I didn't put my dick in her or whatever else it is that she wanted me to do to her.

"Hey man, take a couple days off. Go get your shit together and come back next Wednesday and work through the weekend. Sound good?"

"Yeah, thanks Trev." I stand up from the couch carefully as to not wake to woman by my feet.

I take a taxi back to my apartment complex. Groaning the entire way there I try to keep myself from vomiting in this guy's back seat. I am so fucking relieved the minute he pulls up to the sidewalk in front of the building and lets me out. I squint automatically once I'm outside because it's fucking noon and the sun clearly has a personal vendetta on my corneas. 

With every step toward the front door I feel like I'm going to collapse. That or fucking throw up everywhere. I pull the door open and make the agonizing journey up the stairs. I'm holding onto my stomach tightly urging myself, begging myself not to end up in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. Just a few more steps.

"Sean?" I'd know that voice anywhere. I look up to see Monica's face quickly turn to one of horror. Fuck. She comes down the last few steps towards me in order to help me. I honestly don't have the strength in me to pull away from her even if I want to. She helps me to my apartment, even opening the door and dragging my sorry ass inside. "My god, Sean. You look like death." 

"That's funny you say that because I feel like death too." And I truly do too.

"You have a black eye."

I know captain obvious. "Yeah, no shit, Monica."

"What happened to..." and she stops abruptly. Probably because I know that I just visibly paled in front of her.

My stomach churns in the worst of ways and I know what horrible shit is coming next. Monica seems to know too as she helps me to the bathroom. I flip open the porcelain lid and begin heaving uncontrollably. My limbs begin to shake as the drugs and alcohol begin to leave my system through my pores and through my mouth.

If there's anything I hate more than I hate doing this it is being touched. Even if it is someone touching me with sympathetic affection. But Monica doesn't know that now as she kneels next to me, rubbing my back tenderly. She utters soothing words to me and as much as I wish I could revel in the feeling of her hands on my body my mind betrays me.

Now, I'm shaking and throwing up for an entirely different reason. The things that I'd tried to make myself forget are now front and center in my mind. One of them is consoling and comforting me as the rest of them riddle my mind as I continuously spew into the toilet.