Conan The Dandelion (Boyxboy) ✔

Chapter 10: Drunk on life

A/N: 09.11.2020

Hey, Homies~ Another chapter of CTD. Chapter 11 is already available on Patreon and chapter 12 will be uploaded there tomorrow. Link is in my Wattpad bio, as always.

Btw, I've decided to host a contest! If anyone would like to create a "Conan The Dandelion" cover, please send it to me on Instagram. I'll post all the reader covers in the upcoming days, and if I have a favorite, I'll choose it as the official Wattpad book cover.

(More details on one my recent Instagram post for those who are interested).

Ig: @letsgohomehidee

OH AND IMPORTANT QUESTION: are you a rice, pasta, or bread person?

Oki enjoy~

🌻🌻🌻

I heard a door slam shut and my eyes flung open. The noise was followed by heavy steps, as if there was an elephant trudging above my ceiling. I thought I imagined it at first, that I was just tired, but then I heard glass breaking and knew that I wasn't dreaming. I climbed out of bed and left my apartment house, heading upstairs to the upper floor. Parker's front door was left open. He must have come back from a party. I gently knocked on the wooden surface.

"Parker?"

No answer. Then I heard someone puking, which I guess was some form of answer.

"I'm coming in," I said, even though he probably couldn't hear me. My nose wrinkled as soon as I walked in. The stench of cigarettes and alcohol invaded my nostrils. His house was dark, and the living room light was the only source of light.

Empty bottles were aligned against the wall, some were cracked, others were toppled over each other, very few contained liquid. It looked like a tornado had came in and destroyed everything. The furniture was flipped, books were scattered on the floor, and broken glass glistened under the dim light. I followed the noise of vomiting which led me to the bathroom. Parker was crouched in front of the toilet seat, expelling the content inside his stomach.

"Good evening, Parker."

He looked up breathing heavily. His complexion had gone a ghostly ashen shade that contrasted with the dark strands of hair that fell over his forehead. I looked into his eyes. It was like staring into an endless depth of ink, sorrow, and pain.

"Get out," he hissed, his voice scratchy and ragged. He groaned in pain, leaning his back against the tub and sliding onto the floor.

"Parker, you can't sleep here," I said, but he wouldn't open his eyes. I picked up a toothbrush and poked his cheek. "Parker, wake up. You'll catch a cold if you sleep on the floor."

His eyes flung open with anger.

"Parker this, Parker that, stop telling me what to do!" He barked, pushing me away. I tumbled back and fell on my bum. His brows furrowed in worry, and he was about to reach out to help me, but he stopped himself.

"So fucking weak," he muttered, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing! It's not your god damn fault!"

"But you're upset."

"What does that matter to you?!" He shouted. His face went from ghostly pale to Freddy red.

"You're my friend. Of course you matter to me."

Parker's dragged his hand miserably down his face.