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Ryan shot him a death glare. “You know, Hayes. We really don’t have to do this anymore.”
“Do what?”
“This.” He motioned in between them with his hands. “This. Us. We tried, OK? And clearly, it’s not working out. So maybe it’d be better if we just…didn’t.”
Hayes narrowed his eyes at Ryan. “Why the fuck would you even say that to me?”
Ryan pointed to Hayes’s phone. “Then what is all that shit, huh?”
“It’s…TK. He’s just fucked up, Rook. Probably has no idea what he’s even sayin’ right now. Hey.” Hayes moved in toward Ryan, reaching his hands to either of his hips, but Ryan quickly pulled away. “Seriously? That’s how it’s gonna be?”
“I don’t trust you around him, Tyler.”
Hayes knew he was in deep shit when Ryan busted out the T-word.
“Ryan, listen to me. Nothing. Happened. I swear to God.”
Ryan got in his face, pointing a finger at him. “You better be goddamn careful or someday you’re not gonna be able to look me in the eye and say that.”
“You know what?” Hayes rolled his eyes and stomped over to his nightstand. “Fuck this,” he muttered, yanking open the drawer and pulling out a bottle of pills. He opened it, shook three into his hand, capped it, and washed them down with the bottle of whisky he kept in there as Ryan looked on in horror. “What? You know my shoulder’s been…”
“Fuck your shoulder!” Ryan yelled, then shook his head. “Shoulder my ass! So, you wash your painkillers down with alcohol now? Jesus, Hayes. He’s turning you into a fucking junkie. No wonder you’re riding the bench over here. You’re probably too fucked up to play half the time.”
“Real fuckin’ nice, Rook. Way to be supportive, you fuckin’ dick.” Hayes had walked to the edge of his bed, sat down, and hung his head in his hands, with Ryan immediately following and sitting next to him.
“Hayes,” he whispered, sliding an arm around his back and pulling them closer together. “I’m sorry. I’m just…I’m worried about you with him. You guys are getting a little too close.”
“I’m not a cheater, Rook.” He wiped his eyes and shrugged. “Maybe you’re right though. Maybe this shit with us has run its course. You know, I love you so much, more than I’ve ever loved anything. Way more than I love myself, that’s for damn sure. And I don’t feel like you’re…in this shit with me anymore. Because me? I’m fuckin’ in it, Rook. I am all the way in it. But I don’t think you are.”
Ryan reached both his hands to either side of Hayes’s face, forcing him to look at him. “Hey. Of course I’m in it. Hayes: I’m in it. OK? Come on. We’ll get through this. I know I need to be more supportive of you, and I’ll try, alright? I really will. But you? Have to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“You have got to lay off the drugs, Hayes. It’s getting bad. They’re…some of the shit they’re saying about you? You gotta stop or you’re gonna lose everything you worked your ass off for, or…worse. And there’s no way I’d ever come back from it.” Ryan kissed his forehead. “Can you promise me that?”
Hayes nodded, both knowing damn well it was a lie, but both wanting nothing more than to believe it.
???
The sound of persistent knocking woke Hayes, and he shot up off the bed, unsure where he was for a moment. He scanned his surroundings and realized he was still in the hotel suite bedroom, with no clue how long he’d even been passed out.
He got up unsteadily and stumbled over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open.
“The fuck? Thought you were dead in here, baby. Been knockin’ for like, five minutes.” A shirtless TK examined him on the way inside and Hayes examined him and his pierced nipples right back, pushing the door shut and locking it again. “Wow. You’re feelin’ good, huh?”
“I dunno…the fuck you gave me, but I need a bump, man. Level me. You got?” Hayes mumbled, looking desperately at his teammate.
“Welp, that depends,” he said, grabbing Hayes’s hand and dragging him over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and looked up at Hayes, who stood between his legs. “What are you willing to do for it?” TK stared at him intently for a moment before bursting out laughing, causing Hayes to palm his forehead and push him onto his back.
“Fuckin’ dick,” he muttered, climbing onto the bed next to TK.
“You were thinking about it, huh? Suck me off for a bump, would you? Maybe a handy?”
“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Hayes replied, watching his teammate’s every move as he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a baggie.
“Not that I’d turn it down, baby. Anyway, you know I got.” He propped himself up on one elbow and dumped some of the powder onto his own stomach, right above the waistband of his pants. He formed most of it into a line with his forefinger and thumb before taking a big pinch, bringing his fingers to his own nose, and inhaling deeply. “Oh fuck…oh yeah.” He shook his head and nodded toward Hayes, then nodded toward his midsection. “Clean it.”
All Hayes could think about was coming back to reality, hoping this would even him out. The two had become somewhat of a pair of amateur pharmacists, having spent countless hours getting completely obliterated and then trying to decipher what concoction of narcotics would get them back to normal. Most of the time, when alcohol and other pills were involved, a line or two of coke would at least get Hayes back to semi-functional.
