Underage Drinking Always Ends in Tears
Characters: Meg & Kyle Setting: Cafeteria/bar, Kyle's room
Having finished getting back to his various messages, Kyle headed across to the cafeteria, a small canvas under one arm, paint splattering the t-shirt and jeans which were, as a result, now designated as 'work clothes'. It felt a little harsh, given that he only had seven sets of clothes in total, but even if he only had two sets, giving up one to his art was a small price to pay. He stopped on the way and looked in on the pool - because, yeah. He'd missed that one and there it was, just by his room. Surprises every day.
He made it to the bar before Meg did, and he poured himself a coke, setting the canvas down on one of the chairs while he waited.
Kyle may have not been looking his best given the paint on his clothes but he had nothing on Meg who looked almost as bad as she felt which quite frankly was an achievement in and of itself. What little sleep she had got had been fitful at best and things between her and Dominic were no better than had been before they went to bed, the moment he'd gone off for another walk she'd fled to her own room. The message from Kyle had been a lifeline and she had seized on it, desperate for a way to stop thinking about Dom if only for five minutes.
Arriving in the cafeteria in shorts, boots and an oversized wool sweater, her hair scraped back from her face in a way that only highlighted how puffy her eyes were and the dark circles beneath them, she blinked in confusion and then made a beeline for Kyle. "Guessing you found the alcohol then?" she said sounding faintly nonplussed.
"Apparently, they installed a bar yesterday," Kyle said, dancing around the question. He didn't really want to broach whether or not he was drinking. "Seemingly you missed that memo. Then again, I missed the one about the pool, so we're even." He reached across and plucked the canvas from the chair, handing it to you. "Made this for you," he told her. He had been painting for half the night and most of the morning. The painting that he held out to her was on one of the smallest canvases, about 12 inches across. It was a stormy ocean, waves cresting in a storm. Towards one corner, there was a tiny red boat, half submerged under the water, clearly in trouble.
She blinked at him in disbelief, wondering if lack of sleep had screwed with her hearing. "Sorry, did you just say we got a pool now?" she said, looking utterly dumbfounded by the notion. "And a bar. What's next an arcade?" Then she noticed the Space Invaders game and her mouth fell open a little. "Huh, guess that’s covered too." The canvas she hadn't spotted so when it was presented to her and she saw what was on it, her brain shifted from 'what the fuck' mode to genuinely stunned, feeling more than a little blown away. "Kyle, this is..." Disturbingly appropriate for how I'm feeling right now her mind helpfully provided. "...amazing. Like really freaking...wow."
He shrugged a shoulder. “I had some going spare. I might have gotten a little carried away and I figured that I’d pretty up the lives of others instead. I want something... Bigger for my own room.” Which would take him longer. Much longer. “And yeah, we have a pool and a bar - and apparently a space invaders game. And apparently there’s a pool party happening, with margaritas. And I’m doubting anyone’s gonna give a damn about your age for drinking. Of course, those who watch may have other ideas,” he added, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.
"Those who may be watching can kiss my ass," she retorted, raising her voice for any cameras that may or may not have been there - either way it felt cathartic and she flipped the bird towards the ceiling for good measure. "I have an overwhelming urge to get hammered and if they're providing, I'm having it." The mention of a pool party sounded vaguely appealing too though that may have been something to do with the uncomfortable feeling that was creeping up Meg's back the longer she stood near the bar. "Did you wanna go to the party 'cause I'll drink anywhere," she said, not bringing up the fact she felt uncomfortable because that would mean a) admitting it, and b)thinking about the reason for it.
“I was thinking of maybe looking in later, but - I’m not really the ‘pool party’ type. But if you wanted to go, we can go,” he told her. He was easy either way. “But, anyhow - what’s with the sudden urge to get drunk? Or is this place just getting to you already - you seemed pretty upbeat the other day.
Meg shrugged, pool parties weren't really her thing either given her complete inability to swim and her dislike for lounging around with other people in minimal clothing. "Just don't fancy being in here." His question had her drawing in herself a little and without realising she started tugging on her ring. "Lemme get a couple of drinks in me and maybe I'll tell you," she said.
That sounded really serious, and Kyle took a decision. Walking round the back of the bar, he grabbed a bottle of bourbon, a couple of bottles of coke and two glasses. “Okay - then we’ll head back to my room. No talking in public places when you need drinks to do it,” he told her, turning and heading out of the cafeteria.
Relieved that he didn’t need any more convincing, she was all too happy to follow him out of the cafeteria and leave the weirdness that had building in there. She didn’t feel better per se but at least she could go back to attempting to dealing with the feelings she could at least understand.
It was only a short walk back to Kyle’s room and he walked in first, setting the drinks down on his desk and moving the various art stuffs over to one side of the room, rather than scattered all over the place as they had been. There were another couple of small oils set under one window, and a large canvas that just had a light pencil sketch covering one half of it by the bathroom door - though the design wasn’t clear yet. “Shut the door and make yourself at home. You want your drink with coke, or straight up?” he asked.
Meg did as she was asked, closing the door and after a moment’s consideration, sat down on the loveseat. “Splash of coke’d be great,” she replied, tugging of her boots and folding her legs up beneath her. Normally she’d make it heavy on the coke and light on the bourbon, given her sweet tooth and low tolerance for alcohol but getting drunk was the object here so she just wanted enough to take the burn off.
Kyle poured her drink, and then a coke with a bare splash of bourbon for himself, just so he looked like he was joining in. In any event, even that small splash would get him buzzed. He handed her the drink, then settled himself down on the bed. “So - where do you want to start?” he asked, leaving that open.
Really he needn’t have made the effort, she was too caught up in the shit storm of emotion brewing in her head to even pay attention to him pouring the drinks and only actually looked at him properly when he handed her her drink. “I kinda don’t,” she said, sipping at her drink and making a face at the taste. “I’ve never really done...” She waved her hand between the two of them. “..this. Can’t we talk about you and Leandro first?” It would give her a chance to let the alcohol kick in if nothing else.
“Sure, if you want to. Not that I’m sure where to start there. I can’t get a handle on the guy. I’ve talked to him over the journals, and in the bar and... Yeah. I... I don’t know how to take him.” As he had mentioned before, Kyle was sure that he’d been being flirted with, but he hadn’t been able to get a read on whether it had been serious, or some kind of a wind up. Or, possibly, just a play to see how he would react. He had no real frame of reference.
Taking another sip of her drink, which did not taste any better the second time than it did the first, Meg made a point to actually listen to what Kyle was saying. Sure she was just postponing an inescapable conversation but she was also curious and given how Kyle was being there for her, she could at least do the same for him. “He’s kinda all over the place isn’t he? Least that’s the impression I got from him,” she said. “Get the feeling it’s not ‘tirely intentional either.”
Kyle nodded. "Right. It's like, one minute he's almost predatory and the next, he's making it all a big joke, or..." He took a breath, letting his walls slip a little more. "Honestly, it's confusing as fuck and I don't know how to handle it. I don't know whether I'm best to give as good as I get and just throw it all back at him - which would be my usual way of dealing with a situation like this. Or whether that would just land me in a whole heap of trouble."
“Well I know what I’d do but given my track record, I doubt you’ll wanna follow my advice,” she said, a faint trace of bitterness slipping into her voice. “I dunno, if he were being serious would you be interested?”
Kyle narrowed his eyes as he caught the slight tone in her voice. Ignoring the question, he asked, "What would you do?" instead. He wasn't sure how to answer her question anyhow. Would he be interested in Leandro? He didn't know. He hadn't even figured out if he found the guy attractive or not. He certainly wasn't his usual type. That was one thing, possibly the only thing, he was sure about Leandro: he wasn't his usual anything .
Meg’s eyes narrowed a touch, not missing the way he’d avoided the question. Still she wasn’t going to force him to answer him to answer and if he wanted her take on matters then why she shouldn’t she offer it to him. “Me? I’d give as good as I get.” She took a big mouthful of her drink, coughing a little as the alcohol burned down her throat. “But I’m not someone you should be taking advice from.”
"Don't worry. I'm not the type that blindly takes advice in any event. I'll go my own way in the end. I just - before all of this, I thought I had a pretty wide world view, y'know. Hell, I was an art student . In New York. This last year had been a steep learning curve, and I don't think I've reached the top yet." He downed some of his drink. Part of him wondered if he should be really sharing this with Meg. He'd kept it all in since his arrest, after all. Who he was, where he had come from. Yet, there was something about the facility that made him want for his old life, or at least some portion of it. He was opening up again, if only little by little. "I'd seen people like him walking down the street, but I don't think I've ever talked to one." Which sounded kind of awful to his ears when he phrased it that way.
“Well you know what they say, you gotta hit the curve running or you’ll fall flat on your face,” Meg offered, raising her glass in a kind of semi-toast before downing it’s contents, a move she almost regretted when her stomach heaved but thankfully she managed to keep everything down; she and Kyle were getting on fine but she didn’t think he’d appreciate her throwing up on his floor. Of course that didn’t stop her from holding out her glass for a refill. “So you’re getting your world view flayed open, s’not necessarily a bad thing. Go back two years, I’d never even been out of the shit-hole of a town I was born in.”
"Where was that then?" Kyle asked as he fixed her a refill.
“Technically Bashi down in Clarke County but Thomasville was about as close to where I lived,” she replied, surprising herself with her honesty which she was quick to pin on the alcohol that she could already feel starting to take effect. “Not that anyone’s actually heard of the place.”
"No, but if you hadn't said that, I might have pretended," Kyle told her with grin, handing over the drink. "But I'm hardly the best person for that... Haven't spent too much time in the middle parts." Closest he got were a few skiing holidays in Colorado, other than that, he was a coast type. Or, his family had been for vacation growing up. Once he had begun to have a choice, his choice had been to stay firmly in NYC.
Meg gave him a look as she took back her glass. “Yeah but I would’ve known you were lying which woulda pissed me off,” she countered, slumping back against the cushions behind her. “People from Alabama ain’t heard of Bashi so there’s no way a sophisticated yankee type like yourself would’ve would ya?”
Kyle took another sip of his drink. "Well, when you put it that way... But then you got out?" he prompted. He could piece together some of that story, read through the lines, but he would prefer it if she told him.
“Then I got out,” she echoed, eyes dropping to her glass. “Well, got out, went back, got out again. Just over two years ago that was.” She shook her head and sipped at her drink, still not a fan of the flavour but the taste becoming bearable now. “Christ, feels longer than that.” She paused. “Shorter too, weird huh?”
"The last year has been the longest of my life," Kyle admitted, quietly. It wasn't what she meant, he knew. But it was what came into his mind at her words.
Meg looked back up at him. “Is that how long you’ve been inside then?” she asked, hit with a touch of concern as she realised this was the most subdued she’d heard him be.
He nodded, then gulped down about half of his drink in a single swallow. "Yeah, give or take," he admitted. "One down, fourteen to go."
She flashed him a sympathetic smile, albeit one with a wry twist. “If it makes you feel any better, I got you beat,” she said, pulling the tie from her hair and letting the curls fall down around her face.
"Yeah? What's your tally then?" He asked her, grateful for the chance to deflect. He never really liked getting into what he was in for. It was rare he even brought it up, if he could avoid it. He was paying for crimes he was guilty of, as far as he was concerned. It was that simple. Things only got complicated when people wanted details.
“Only three months in but you’ve got an end date,” Meg said, an ironic kind of pride in her voice. “Whereas I am a lifer because the judge was showing ‘mercy’, apparently.” She made the quotation marks with her fingers, spilling a little of her drink in the process that she proceeded to lick from her fingers and the side of the glass.
Kyle whistled softly and he wondered what she had done. He hadn't asked, and he doubted he would, not openly. He firmly believed that if there was a crime, there should be punishment, but he wasn't sure he wanted the details of a crime that ended up with life being a mercy. "Did you do it?" He asked, instead.
If he had come out with it and asked, she would have told of him; everything she’d done had been public knowledge anyway so she saw little point in keeping it a secret. Just as she saw no point in beating around the bush in answering the question he did ask, nodding as she took another sip of her drink. “Oh yeah,everything on the whole damn grocery list. No point denying it when it’s all on public record right?” It was fair to say the alcohol had well and truly kicked in at this point, her accent thickening by the minute.
"Oh yes. Your fame. Your billions of twitter followers. Fanboys galore," he said with a toast. His own drink may have been weak, but he had never had a head for alcohol and he could feel it in him now. "Do you regret it?" he asked her.
Meg laughed a little at his toast, lifting her glass as well though it held an oddly frantic note that testified to just how ridiculous she found the whole situation at times. His question pulled her up short however and for a moment she felt horrifically sober as it sank in, trying to remember if anyone had actually asked her that before. She’d been asked if she was sorry, something more often than not she answered with a categorical ‘no’ but regret was something else entirely. Eventually though she shook her head. “Not most of it, no,” she replied. “But even if I did, you can’t go back and change the past and if I could, I’d have more pressing things to try and fix.”
Kyle wondered if they were getting nearer to the root of her sudden need to get drunk. "What would it be then?" he asked her. "If you could change one thing." He one what he would pick, without even thinking, he knew what he would do.
There was only one thing that she could pick given everything that had happened between her and Dominic since they’d arrived at the facility and her defences were suitable lowered by the bourbon that she didn’t even hesitate in answering the question. “I wouldn’t have tried to kill myself those two times,” she said, the bitterness creeping into her voice again. “That can count as one thing right?”
Kyle froze, eyes slightly wider. He set the glass down, his buzz gone along with any wish for it to come back. "Shit. When?" he asked her, his tone edged with compassion. If he had to hazard a guess, he would have said maybe before she had left her small town she seemed to hate so much.
Oblivious to the impact her words had made on him, Meg didn’t make the slightest attempt to soften her voice or sugarcoat her words. “A couple of months back, first time wasn’t that long after my trial.” When she realised she was never going to see Dom again and would have to live out the rest of her life without him.
Kyle didn't say anything. He leaned forward a little, into a more open position, hoping she would carry on talking, giving her a chance to share without interruption, or empty platitudes.
When he didn’t say anything, she looked up at him with an unreadable expression on her face. “You not gonna ask why or how or tell me I’m a selfish bitch?” she asked, hurt that had nothing to do with Kyle lacing her words.
The look of confusion on Kyle’s face was clear. He knew she was aware more than most people here that he could be catty at times, but he would have figured she thought better of him than that. “No - I mean, if you wanna talk about it, I’m right here and I’ll listen. But I’m not gonna judge you. I’ve not lived your life, I don’t know what drove you to a place where you felt like you needed to do that,” he told her.
Meg made a noise, a strangled sort of sound that managed to contain a snort of derision, a verging on hysterical laugh and a sob. “Why not?” she said, eyes growing bright as she downed most of the contents of her glass. “He knows why I did it and still he hates me for it, said I betrayed him so go ahead, judge me all you like.”
It didn’t take a genius to figure out who ‘he’ was. That would be being the mysterious and apparently wonderful Dom then. It made a whole lot of sense - the heavy drinking thing - if he hated her right now. “Anyway, I figure I’ve already judged you. Liiike - 5, 4, 7.. I forget the rest,” he told her, trying to turn a small joke that may lighten the mood - since the mood had just turned pretty damn serious. He was fairly certain she was just about to cry. He’d never been particularly good when people cried. It cut him to the bone, regardless of whether he had caused the tears or not.
It might have been a feeble attempt at a joke but it was enough to make her snigger slightly, albeit with a frantic edge. It did nothing to hold back the tears Kyle was worried about though and the first one slid down her cheek as she finished the last of her drink.
Aww, shit. Kyle slid off the bed and crossed to crouch down in front of Meg, reaching for her hands. “Hey, hey - come on. Talk to me - what happened?” he asked, looking up at her. Yup - he hated tears.
Meg wasn’t used to kind touches from anyone other than Dominic but she didn’t pull away from Kyle when he reached for her, wanting, needing the comfort that came from just the simple act of being touched. “I’ve ruined everything,” she told him, voice cracking as she spoke. “He said he still loves me but how can he if he thinks I betrayed him? That I care more about me than I do him?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Do you?” he asked, knowing it was a harsh question, but it seemed to be one that needed to be asked - whatever the response would be.
She shook her head violently, sending curls flying around her face. “Of course not!” she cried. “I’d do anything for him, I just couldn’t handle being on my own knowing I wouldn’t see him again. He was on death row for fucks sake, what was I supposed to do?” The tears fell freely now, and she tugged one of her hands free to wipe her face with the sleeve of her sweater.
He shifted, putting an arm around her and pulling her closer. “And have you told him this?” he asked, deciding not to touch on the whole ‘death row’ thing. Seriously - shit, yeah, that was serious. And made him feel more like he was out of his depth here, making nice with people who had life sentences and who were married to people on death row. He liked Meg, he got on with her. She was fun - when she wasn’t been a crying wreck - it was just, sometimes, there were those moments when reality hit home a little more than usual.
He shrugged it off. Reality could go hide again. He’d known what he was signing up for - kind of. And either way, Meg was upset and crying and that was the important part right about now.
Meg nodded, sniffling as she did so. “He said he got it which I don’t think he does then said if I’d been thinking about him I would’ve waited til after they’d killed him so he wouldn’t have to face it knowing I was already gone,” she replied, her expression one of abject misery. “Maybe he’s right, maybe I am just a selfish bitch who doesn’t deserve him.” Not that Dominic had said that to her but that was how she was feeling about the whole thing.
Kyle wondered if she’d actually thought about it in depth that way at all. He could see Dom’s point on that - if he had found out. If all he had to look forward to was his own death... Kyle couldn’t even imagine what that would be like. But, as far as he could tell, people who were suicidal weren’t always known for being able to reason things out. “Were you thinking about it? I mean - what would happen with him?” He had a few other opinions on the matter, but he kept those to himself. He was well aware that he didn’t know either party well enough to be able to imprint his own views of the matter.
She gave a helpless little shrug. “I barely remember anything about the first time I tried, let alone what I was thinking,” she said, frustration lurking beneath the sadness with which she spoke. “Prison shrink had a fucking field day trying to figure this all out.” She tapped the side of her skull, far harder than she probably should have done. “I know I was thinking about him cause he was all I thought about in there, I just...I guess it wasn’t the right kind.” She sniffed again and rubbed her nose. “He was my compass you know? When they took him away from me, I didn’t know what to do, what to think, any of it.”
Kyle rubbed light circles into her back. “And you told him that too, right?” he said. Maybe she had, maybe she hadn’t. Whatever she had told him, Dom apparently had taken things very badly. Of course, Kyle didn’t know what kind of personality the guy had. For all he knew, he was a psycho with a hair trigger temper and Meg was just under his spell, thinking he was god’s gift and willing to forgive him anything. He had exactly no frame of reference here.
“I think I did,” she replied, sounding as lost as she felt, like the little red boat in the painting Kyle had done for her, about to be swallowed up by the ocean. “I shouted too and...oh god, why did I hit him? He said something that upset me and I...” She looked down at the offending hand, the baggy wool of her sweater covering the slight swelling of her wrist. “They were right, I don’t deserve him.”
Kyle had absolutely no idea how to deal with this. None at all. He was just hoping that if he said enough vaguely comforting things and gave her room to talk, that she would either figure it out herself, or say something in the ramble that would click. It was all he had. “Who’s ‘they’?” he asked, picking that out to reflect back to her, hoping maybe to give her some direction.
Barely able to keep track of what she was saying, the alcohol well and truly in her system now, it took Meg a second to realise what Kyle was asking. It didn’t stop her from standing up, or trying to stand at any rate to get more drink. “His parents, my dad...well he said I didn’t deserve anyone but still, all those fucking fangirls who wanted to have his goddamn babies...”
Kyle rolled his eyes despite himself. “Well, you can rule out whatever the last group said. The opinions of people who have never met either you or he and just have some kind of ‘celebrity’ fixation based on an idealised view of a person they’ll never actually know are worth less than nothing at all,” he told her, grasping at a view of celebrity that he had formed in his previous life. Regurgitating it now in these circumstances and having it fit felt rather trippy. “As for you guy’s parents - you wouldn’t be the first couple who didn’t have parental approval,” he added, firmly ignoring the fact that the probable reason for that lack of approval having been the high profile crime spree that the two had gone on.
Feeling a fleeting rush of affection for Kyle in that moment, she surprised herself by flinging her arms around him a clumsy hug. “I like you Kyle, you can stay,” she told him earnestly before getting up more successfully this time and pouring herself another drink, skipping the coke entirely this time. “And his parents were dicks, especially his mom and my dad gave abusive assholes a bad name but that doesn’t mean they were wrong, it just means they were assholes.”
Kyle pulled himself up from the floor into his chair, glad that she seemed even slightly more stable, if only for a moment. “Doesn’t mean that they were right either. Only you and he can decide that - and I’ve always kinda hated the idea that there’s levels and standards that people can or can’t be at, y’know?”
“And what if I don’t think I’m good enough for him anymore?” she posed, taking his previous spot on the bed where she collapsed into an ungainly pile of limbs and oversized knitwear. “What if he thinks it? Standards and levels might be a load of shit like you say but his opinion that matters to me and that’s what’s changed.”
He took a breath and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Okay - what if he does think that now?” he asked, posing the question, suppressing the urge to just tell her that everything was going to be okay and she had absolutely nothing to worry about. Meg had made it blatantly clear in the short time that they had known one another that she really didn’t appreciate being lied to.
Although her thoughts had tentatively skirted around the notion that Dominic might share the sentiment that she wasn’t good enough for him, one that had lurked in the base of brain far longer than their current issues had been going on, having it stated by someone else, even as just a possibility, made her freeze to the spot. “I don’t know,” she said, voice quiet as her grip on her glass went loose and bourbon spilled unnoticed onto her sweater.
Okay - the wrong thing to say. Right. Crossing to her, Kyle took the drink from her hand and set it down on the side. “You know, he probably doesn’t,” he said, hurriedly, moving slightly away from absolute truth into something more fluffy and comforting for a second, just so the girl didn’t break.
“But he’s already looking at me different,” she said, desperation flooding into her voice. “And he basically said that there’s no way to fix things. We’re broken and I broke it.”
Oookay, no more alcohol for you, Kyle thought to himself. She was upset, and drunk - never a good combination, in his experience. “You don’t know that for a fact,” he told her. “From what you’ve said, he was angry. And angry people say things they don’t mean. And do them too - you said you shouted at him. You hit him. And you’re sorry for that now. Maybe it’s the same for him. Things might look different once he’s had a chance to think about them.”
Meg looked up at him, a faint glimmer of hope battling through the haze the drink had given her. “Do you think so?” she asked, allowing herself to belief for a moment that Kyle might be right, that she had blown things way out of proportion - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time it had happened.
“I think that there’s nothing to be gained by deciding something is gone without fighting for it,” he told her. He didn’t know if he was giving her false hope. Maybe he wasn’t helping at all. Hell, maybe she would actually be better off without this guy who had been on death row. But, she had been crying and now she seemed a little happier. He was weak.
“I wasn’t gonna not fight,” she said, the idea a foreign one to her. “But you’re right, I should go find him.” She struggled to her feet and it was a blessing Kyle had already taken her glass otherwise it’s remaining contents would likely have gone everywhere then grabbed his hand. “C’mon, lets go.”
Kyle blinked. “Go... where?” he asked, blankly.
“Go find him,” Meg replied, confused by his confusion. “This place isn’t that big so it won’t take long.”
“But... I...” Really don’t want to get into the middle of this! Call him crazy, but Kyle did not really want to get involved in a potential domestic between someone sentenced to life and someone else sentenced to death. It wasn’t on his list of things to do today.
“No buts,” she said firmly, her grip on his hand tightening. “Your idea, you get to come with. You’re being like my...advocate. Is that the right word?” She didn’t wait for a reply and proceeded to drag him towards the door with a surprising amount of strength for someone who probably weighed seventy pounds soaking wet.
Of course, Kyle may have been tall, but he was far from the largest guy around, which made it an easier job for Meg. He also wasn’t fighting too hard. He wasn’t dick enough to refuse when his doubts were simply pushed aside. And so it was that he found himself being led through the compound, hoping to hell that whatever was about to happen, it went alright.