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Late Night Troubles
Topic Started: Dec 6 2017, 12:03 PM (87 Views)
Brendan Callaghan
Newbie
[ * ]
Late Night Troubles

Brendan Callaghan refreshed his glass in hand with more whiskey and took a sip. He put it down before squeezing the bridge of his nose, leaning heavily on the kitchen table. It was quiet in the house and all he could hear was the ticking of his wristwatch. A simple black rubber strap watch.

4:47am.

For some reason, he began counting to five along with it before getting irritated and tried to focus on something else. He searched his pockets, turning them inside out. But all that came out were random receipts and lint. They mostly fell to the floor and he brushed off the lint that got stuck to his hands. With an exasperated sigh, he staggered towards the sink to wash it off. But he accidentally turned on the faucet too much and cold water gushed out, splashing everywhere including him. He let out a surprised yelp and gasped as he fumbled for the handle. Once it was finally turned off, he spat the water back out into the sink and wiped his face down.

Shivering a little, he reached for a kitchen towel and wiped his face again and hair. He took off his wristwatch and began to dry it with the same towel. Thankfully, it was still ticking.

4:56am.

With a smile, he gave its face one last wipe before strapping it back on his left wrist.

That's when his cell phone buzzed, the screen lighting up to show a name and a text message underneath. An annoyed look immediately crosses his features. Without reading, he picked it up and turned it over. He didn't know who that was and it didn't matter either. He's no longer in the mood to talk. Nothing he said or did would change anything.

Right?

He raised the glass towards his phone with a nod, as if making a toast.

"Here's to being stubborn as all hell."

He chuckled before stopping himself like he heard something.

"What's that? Temper tantrum? Ungrateful son? Okay, I hear you. Let's drink to that too!"

He downed much of the whiskey like a shot and winced. Squeezing his eyes shut, he leaned on the kitchen counter with his face buried in his hands. A headache returned in a subtle wave, making him groan. He stood up straight again and poured more whiskey into the glass but he didn't drink it. Instead, he just set aside it, almost pushing it even as he let out another frustrated cry.

Something just didn't feel right and he had no idea why. He already got his revenge win against Scarlett Highland two weeks ago despite giving in to her ridiculous no hair-touching rule. He also refrained from giving his father Nathan a hard time like he used to do a lot, even so much as not speaking to him at all lately except the brief exchange on Twitter earlier. He kept his mouth shut most of the time now. In fact, he's been quieter than usual. And last week, though he was given the night off, he was there backstage and even helped to stop Felix Vialpando from interfering in Scarlett's title defense match with Zeke Reed. Yet he alone was accused of attempting to meddle with the match and according to Scarlett, he was going to be "punished" for it. Not Felix. Just Brendan. And what did Nathan say? There would be punishment if he were to keep giving him shit. Normally Brendan would lash out but this time, he didn't.

Indeed nothing he said or did would change anything. No matter what, he was in the wrong. But why? What more did he have to do? He didn't have a single clue.

Taking the glass back in his hand, he squeezed it as he tried to make sense of it all. With a slow sip, he thought about Aoife Byrne's words again. She wasn't entirely wrong about the part where he was more like Nathan than any of his brothers. Or the part where they were both equally stubborn, so stubborn to prove that they were right and the other was not.

5:13am.

He lied to Aoife, obviously. He was fully aware that he and his father were very much alike and that scared the shit out of him. He refused to admit out loud that out of all his siblings, he was just like Nathan Callaghan. Because if he did, that would mean the parts of his father that he had bitterly resented were parts of him too. To Brendan, Nathan was ultimately disloyal with his secret lives so how could that be him? He would never want to do that but he feared he might for whatever reason. Could this be why he was terrible with relationships? Was he subconsciously sabotaging himself so they'd feel forced to leave him first? Again, no idea. Only God would know, though.

Let him be hurt. Let him take all the beating. He deserved it for being such an unsympathetic asshole. He could take it. He really could. And he'd say nothing of it too, like some sort of older brother burden he was willing to carry on his shoulders without question.

What else could he do? Even his usual joker self was becoming more and more self-deprecating, something he wasn't entirely aware of anymore.

Suddenly feeling drained, he sat down at the kitchen table and took another sip. And another. And another... And another...

6:37am.

He woke up with a jolt, his knee striking the underside of the table hard in reflex.

"Ow SON OF A MOTHER!!"

He cupped his knee in anguish with his chin on the table.

"Owww ahhhha ha..... hu..... okay..... whew....."

He slowly moved his leg to test the knee. As the pain wore off, he got up and hobbled towards the living room. Then he let himself fall on the couch and right back to sleep.
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