The fourth drink instinct never kicked in.
rawrlittledino: Lol. I do like Soap. What I didn't like was how perfectly everything was going. This isn't called DisasteRomance for nothing ;)
alex_-nods-: The reunion of Pete and Sophie is closer than you think...
doyleangel: We'll see...
xFallxOutxBoyxFanx: Hou might just be right...
Tissamy: Clean up crews are on the way?
chocolatechortle22: See above.
easykeys: You're right. It's not going to be easy.
Okay, okay. I realize that EVERYONE wants Poap back. But for now, here's a little Soabe drama to tide you over...
44: u l t i m a t u m
“Blame it on the goose, gotcha feelin loose!” I sang.
“Blame it on the ‘Tron, gotcha in the song,” Soap lazily replied, holding her glass up.
“Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol!” I continued lifting the glass to my lips.
After downing yet another shot, I turned to Soap.
“Hey, you alright?” I said, inadvertently swaying as I talked. “You don’t look so great.”
Both of had pretty high tolerances for alcohol, but I was nowhere near Soap’s level. When we left Angels & Kings, she was at least 4 drinks ahead of me, but she was just a little tipsy. Then after arriving at my apartment, her lead exponentially increased. We each had about 3 shots before she decided to switch to a bigger glass. And the last time I checked, she was on her 2nd glass of straight vodka.
“I’m fine…” she softly replied, closing her eyes and leaning against the side of the couch.
“Don’t fall asleep on me, girlie,” I said, poking her side.
Instead of getting a response, however, the glass slipped from her fingers and shattered upon contact with the floor.
While I picked up the jagged shards as carefully as I could, Soap continued laying on the couch as if nothing had happened.
“Don’t play the tired card. I’m not cleaning this up by myself.”
Instead of replying with a witty excuse, she remained completely still.
Still no response. It looked like she had fallen asleep, but something in my gut told me this wasn’t the case. I set the pieces of glass onto the coffee table then scooted next to her. My eyes went wide as I realized that she was barely breathing.
“Holy shit, Soph. This isn’t funny,” I said, gently shaking her. “Time to wake up.”
Panic quickly set in as I realized that you can’t fake pale skin.
“Soap, c’mon!” I uselessly pleaded.
Staggering, I made my way over to the phone and dialed 911.
As it rang, I made my way back to Soap’s side and held her against my shoulder.
Oh, God. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Pick up already!
“911 emergency. What is your situation?”
“My friend, I think she has alcohol poisoning.”
The way she moves, oh. I wanted her to stay a while. Don’t go home…
I tired groan escaped my lips as I realized that my phone was ringing.
“Fuck…” I muttered to no one in particular as I reached over the empty space next to me and grabbed the device from its place on the nightstand.
“Gabe, it’s Hannah,” she slurred/sobbed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, turning onto my side and noting the time. 3:39AM.
Instead of responding, she continued crying into the phone.
“Take a few deep breaths and tell me what happened,” I suggested.
“It’s Soap. I’m at the hospital--”
“WHAT?!” I said, immediately sitting upright.
“We went to Angles ‘n Kings ith Bill ‘n ‘em. Afterwards we wen back to my apartment and drank sommore. Soap wouldn’t wake up,” she explained, clearly still inebriated. “I’m sorry--”
“What are the doctors saying?” I anxiously asked, hand shaking as I held the phone to my ear.
“She’s in trouble…”
I didn’t bother saying “goodbye,” or even hanging up, for that matter. I haphazardly got dressed and ran to my car as fast as my feet could take me.
I blew through numerous traffic lights and lost track of how many cars I’d almost sideswiped as I made my way to the hospital. Once in the parking lot, I pulled into the nearest space and quickly found myself sprinting toward through the doors of Mount Sinai Hospital.
“Sophia Matsumoto, where is she?” I frantically asked the middle-aged woman behind the front desk. Noting my anxiety, she quickly typed something into the computer in front of her and directed me to the 3rd floor, room 387.
As I waited for an elevator, I impatiently paced back and forth in front of the steel doors, as if my actions would speed up the process.
After what seemed like an eternity, the door slid open. Like a madman, I ran inside and hit the number 3.
“Come on!” I pleaded as I slowly ascended.
Once the doors opened, I ran toward the aforementioned room.
“God, Soap…” I whispered, noting her appearance. Her skin had an unnatural bluish tinge to it and her hair was matted to her forehead as an IV was hooked up to her arm.
“After they pumped her stomach, the doctors said that she‘d be okay,” Hannah quietly noted from the corner of the room.
“No thanks to you,” I seethed. “Why the fuck would you go to Angels & Kings when you know she has a drinking problem?!”
She immediately flinched, sinking further into the cushions of her seat.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” she said looking down at the floor. “She usually knows her limits…”
“Limits? Are you fucking kidding me? Sophie never sets limits when she drinks!”
I stood there, livid as silent tears spilled down Hannah’s cheeks.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen…”
She looked up at me with guilt-laden eyes, then slowly left the room.
As I shifted my attention back to Sophie’s pale form, my anger quickly subsided. I took a seat next to her bed and slipped my hand into hers. It was cold to the touch.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” I whispered as tears blurred my vision.
Too bright fluorescent lights greeted me when I woke up.
“What the fuck?” I groaned, shielding my eyes.
After my irises had recovered from their initial shock, I had the chance to look around. To my left, I spotted an IV hooked up to my arm. To my right, Gabe was sitting in a chair, intently looking at me.
His eyes were puffy and lined with red. I didn’t have to ask what had happened. His disappointed expression spoke volumes.
I passed out at Hannah’s apartment. Hannah probably had a heart attack, then called an ambulance. She called Gabe. Gabe freaked out.
No longer able to meet his gaze, I looked down and began scratching nail polish from my fingers.
Guilt. Remorse. Shame. None of them began to describe what was going through my head as he continued staring me down. I hoped against all hope that I could crawl under the sheets and disappear.
“I know I made a mistake--”
“Damn right, you made a mistake,” I said, cutting her off. “Your blood alcohol level was .394, Sophie. YOU COULD HAVE FUCKING DIED.”
“I know,” she replied.
“No. I don’t think you do!” I spat. “If you had any fucking clue, you wouldn’t have drank that much!” I said, shooting up from my chair. It fell to its side as I stood there, furious with how lightly she was taking this.
“God, do you have any idea what it was like for me to get a call in the middle of the night from Hannah saying that you were in the hospital?”
She bit her lip and looked down at her hands.
“I was scared shitless, Sophie,” I softly added. “When I got here, you looked like you were already dead…”
My voice cracked as that last word left my lips.
I thought the reality of the situation had already set in, but what I had already gone through was only the beginning. Now that she was awake, everything seemed to hit me tenfold.
The girl lying before me had drank to the point that she went unconscious. Doctors said that it was a miracle that she hadn’t gone into a coma.
It was one thing knowing that Sophie had come thisclose to dying.
It was another thing knowing that she’d chosen to do that to herself.
“Sophie, I can’t do this anymore…”
“What do you mean?” she weakly asked.
“This. I can’t stand by and watch you kill yourself with booze.”
“I swear I’ll be more careful next time--”
“That’s exactly the problem, Sophie,” I said as a tear spilled from the corner of my eye. “Don’t you understand that there shouldn’t be a ‘next time’?”
“Sophie, you need to choose. It’s either me or the alcohol.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
My heart broke at this comment.
I was being “ridiculous”?
It was like she didn’t care about anything that had happened.
She didn’t give a flying fuck about me, or even her own health for that matter.
Silence quickly filled the space between us and I realized that she had given me an answer.
“I guess this is it, then.”
Ignoring her plea, I turned around and exited the room. Once outside, I leaned against the wall and sank to the floor.
Sophie and I were finished.
I'm fully aware that a majority of you hate me right now, but it had to be done. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: this isn't called DisasteRomance for nothing.
Rate/Review if you want to find out what happens next.
Otherwise, you'll be left hanging for ETERNITY.
-insert evil laugh here-
And as always, don't forget to check out Izzy (rawrlittledino) and Evie's (moocow) fics. They're pretty mucha a BIG DEAL.