I stood there, staring blankly at the door as if waiting for something to happen. For there to be a knocking, or for the handle to turn and for Gilbert to run back in, to cradle me until the tears stopped falling.

Nothing.

Not a sound echoed through this depressing house but the sound of the roaring rain outside. Was there a way to describe how I felt? A word to put to the ache in my stomache?

Yes I was sad, yes I was angry, yes I was confused, but through all the commotion in my mind, I felt one thing the most.

I felt numb.

Slowly, I felt my knees weaken, and I eventually sunk to the floor, a dull throbbing sensation in my head. I pressed it against a cold radiator and let the cool metal slide over my skin. The ache soon left, so I trudged slowly into the living room.

It felt as though I had been hit with a wave of de já vu. Everything in the room, everything in the house, seemed to a have a bundle of memories attatched to it, as if they were balloons tied to a post struggling to get free. I took a deep breath in, scrunched my eyes tight shut, and imagined myself walking through the room, cutting the strings of the balloons and watching them float away. However, when I opened my eyes it still felt as though they were all still there, rubbing against eachother, smothering me and crushing my lungs.

I pulled harshly at my cheeks, trying to bring myself back to my senses, and sighed. It wasn't even my house! It was Gil's. Now it felt like an empty shell.

Sighing, I sauntered over to the coffee table and picked up the rubbish that had been left on it. An empty bowl of popcorn and two mugs that had held hot chocolate lay in wait of cleaning, so that's what I did. I cleaned up the whole room, finding even the most menial tasks to distract myself from the inevitable lonliness.

Sooner or later, I found myself curled up on the floor, head resting on the coffee table. Unable to control the sobs, I allowed myself to cry until my throat was stripped raw, but still I couldn't stop.

In the hallway, I heard the door open, but I had no energy to leap up and see who it was, and I couldn't wipe the tears from my eyes or stop the sniveling quick enough to retain dignity.

"Gil?" A deep voice shouted from the coridoor.

"No." I called out, but I'm not even sure if I had actually said anything. I let out another sob, then covered my mouth with my hand, as if to stop it from happening again.

I gazed up at the living room door through barricades of tears to see a tall, blonde figure standing there staring down at me. I knew this man. It was Ludwig, Gilbert's younger brother. A whole other bunch of memories came flooding towards me; times when we'd spoken, when he'd complained about me and Gil kissing, rolling his eyes at us when we'd fall asleep on the couch together... the pain was endless.

Ludwig tutted. "He's not here?"

"He's gone." I deadpanned, but it came out as more of a whisper. It was hard to raise my voice.

Ludwig rolled his eyes, then put down his bag on the coffee table. He obviously had no sympathy to spare on me; it had happened before, after all. However, I couldn't have been more wrong, because when I looked up again, I saw him holding out his hand.

I took it, allowing him to pull me off the floor, then steadied myself using his arm. "Sorry." I muttered.

"Must have been hard on you. Normally you'd say something along the lines of 'I don't need your help, bastard' then try and punch me."

"Shut up." I spat, but it sounded more like a plea. I stumbled over to the sofa and curled up, pulling a blanket over my shaking body. Ludwig was standing in the kitchen, cooking something for himself. He turned back to look at me.

"Have you eaten?" He asked.

"No." I answered.

"Do you want to eat?"

"No." I muttered.

My eyes skimmed over the kitchen, and everything seemed normal. That was the weird thing about it. After all the commotion, and all the shouting, the whole place seemed normal. My eyes wandered over to the fridge, so I made my way over and opened it. I reached up, slid out a bottle of wine, and went over to get an opener.

Ludwig gave a sideways glance at me, brows furrowed. "How old are you?" He questioned.

"Older than you." I spat, then took a big swig and went back to the sofa and my blanket.

Ludwig sighed, finished whatever he was doing, and turned to me. "Look, do you want me to call anyone?"

"No, leave my here with my wine and my tears, and if I'm vomiting in the morning hold my hair back."

"Ew, no thanks." He replied.

"Gil would-" I started, then shivered and took another swig of wine.

"Look, I'll be in my room if you need anything. Just don't, I dunno, vomit on the sofa or something." He sighed.

"I wont vomit on the sofa if you hold my hair back while I'm vommiting in the toilet." I replied sarcastically.

"Lovely." He chuckled. "Fine, deal."

"Good that." I muttered, sinking further into the blanket. I stared at the bottle in my hand, then downed the whole thing in one breath without blinking an eye. Ludwig stared at me, surprised, then turned and walked up the stairs. I shuffled over to the fridge again and was about to get anotger bottle of wine when I spotted Gil's plethera of beers. I picked up one and opened it, downed it, then got another. By the time an hour had passed, the coffee table had accumilated an asorment of bottles and cans and glasses. The whole time I had music on, and I didn't realize that I was singing along until I stopped, so I turned it up and sung louder. I'm sure Ludwig wouldn't appreciate it, but with the heavy flow of alcahol coming my way, I doubt I'd think about the concequences. Another couple of hours passed, and when I checked the time, it had crept into the early morning.

Feeling hungry, I went on an expidition and raided the cupboards of all their chocolate and binged. I'm sure ice cream crept into the equation at some point as well. Maybe an hour later, I stared at the accumalative mess on the table and rolled off the sofa to clean it up. The bin had grown more full of wrappers than ever, but I couldn't be bothered to sort out the bottles and cans. Slowly, I made my way into a lying down position on the sofa and turned off the music. The clock in the kitchen told me it was 4:00am, and with that thought in my mind, I fell into a half sleep, half unconcious drunken respite.