(BL)Alpha Made
Chapter 202: Can’t a guy get a mental health day in peace?

Chapter 202: Can’t a guy get a mental health day in peace?

Andrew jerked awake, his vision blurry as he tried to understand why he was awake. His whole body pulsed, once, twice, before the pain centered on his head and it felt like it was splitting. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time, months, actually. Since he had last drank to excess at Maxwell’s house.

A deep, painful ache in his chest. He still felt like he was splitting in half.

He looked around the room in a daze, taking in the trays of food sitting on the counter and table of the room, the discarded clothes on the floor, and the several bottles of alcohol strewn around. If anyone else had seen this, they would think that he’d had a wild night with someone else. Not that he was a heartbroken man, trying to get through whatever the hell was going on between him and Maxwell.

Or...Or should he be calling him Mr. Beckett?

Wincing, grabbing at his chest, Andrew reached for his glasses, putting them on as he tried to understand why he was awake. The day had barely started, it was only around 10 am. Andrew couldn’t remember what time he’d gone to sleep, but it had been in the early hours of the night. He knew he was still drunk, but the hangover was certainly making things worse.

Sighing, Andrew glanced around for his phone, but found a bottle of whiskey first. Without hesitation, Andrew reached for the bottle, the cap already off, and took a swig as he felt something begin to vibrate. He patted around on the bed, the whiskey bottle still at his lips, until he found his phone under a pillow.

Lowering the bottle, he looked at the caller i.d. and found that it was Richard of all people. He answered the phone, and held it up to his ear.

"H-Hello?"

"Jesus christ you sound like death. Where the hell are you?" Richard’s voice had an edge to it, but Andrew glanced at the bottle in his hand. It was too tempting.

"I told you I was taking a mental health day." Andrew protested, raising the bottle to his lips and taking another sip. It burned, but it was something Andrew looked forward to.

"Yeah, but you never fucking told me that you weren’t going home, Andrew!" Richard’s words were tense, and quiet. "So where the hell are you? Mr. Beckett is here demanding to know where you are!" Andrew froze. He forgot to breathe. "Andrew? Are you still there?" Richard asked and Andrew felt his lungs begin to protest.

He inhaled loudly, his body jerking.

"H-He’s looking for me?" Andrew knew how desperate he sounded, and Richard tsked.

"What the hell happened on Monday if this is how you are responding right now? Aren’t you two dating?" Richard demanded and Andrew moved his lips. He felt like a fish on land.

"I-I don’t know." Andrew murmured.

"What?!" Richard’s voice was loud suddenly, and Andrew pulled the phone away from his ear quickly, wincing at the piercing sound. "What do you mean by that, Andrew? Are you serious? What the hell happened Monday?" He had dropped his voice down into a whisper. Andrew’s head ached, a pulse in time with the searing pain he felt in his gut.

"I don’t know. I don’t know Richard. Just leave me alone. I just need some time." Andrew mumbled, his grip tightening on the bottle in his hand.

"Andrew this-" Richard’s voice cut off, and Andrew could hear struggling on the other side of the phone. "Wait! I said wait! I don’t know where-" Richard was silenced on the other end, and Andrew waited, unsure what was about to happen. His fingers itched to hang up, but at the same time, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

"Hello Andrew." A shiver went down his spine. He’d never heard Maxwell speak like that. He’d never heard that tone, that sound, ever. Even when he was dealing with someone he hated, he’d never used this tone.

Andrew had no idea what that meant, but he couldn’t breathe. He felt like his lungs were frozen. What was he supposed to say? What could he say? Was Maxwell going to fire him over the phone? Was he going to break up with him in front of his new coworkers?

Andrew didn’t feel like he had any legs to stand on. Maxwell and his Father had gotten him that position, it was...fine if he took it away. He hadn’t earned it through any merit of his own. Maybe he could...have someone go pick up his things from the house though?

He didn’t have a lot. He could leave behind the clothes Maxwell’s Father had gotten him. He didn’t think it was right of him to take them with him.

"Andrew?" Maxwell’s voice in his ear had him jerking, and Andrew realised his lungs were screaming at him. Inhaling sharply, he coughed, before he began to breathe again.

"Y-Yes?" Andrew said nervously, his hand shaking as it held the phone to his ear.

"Where are you?" Maxwell asked, his voice calm, even, and making a shiver running down Andrew’s spine.

"I-I’m at a hotel." Andrew muttered, unable to lie to him. He curled in on himself, feeling small as he spoke to Maxwell. Why did he care? Why was he asking? Was he going to have his stuff sent here?

"A hotel. Hmm. Do you remember which one?" Maxwell asked and Andrew swallowed. He stared desperately at the bottle in his hand.

"I-I, w-why does it matter to you?" Andrew couldn’t help the words that left his lips, his eyes already watering. Fuck. This wasn’t really what he wanted to say. He wanted to beg the man not to abandon him, but he couldn’t work up the nerve. If Maxwell made up his mind, he couldn’t change it.

Andrew had seen it in the year that he’d known him. Maxwell wasn’t one to change his mind once he made it up. Andrew couldn’t see how he could be any different.

"Why does it matter?" Maxwell asked, incredulous. "You haven’t come home for two days, Andrew." Andrew winced.

"O-Okay." Andrew replied, and Maxwell exhaled sharply on the other side.

"Just tell me where you are staying right now." His tone left no room for disagreement, and Andrew gulped.

"I-It’s a hotel near the hospital. Big and fancy. I don’t remember the name." Andrew mumbled, slouching over as he leaned against the headboard.

"I think I know the one. Stay there. Did you use your name?" He asked and Andrew nodded.

"I did." The phone hung up, and Andrew pulled it away from his face, staring at the blank screen for a long moment. What the hell was that about? Why had he showed up now?

Why had he sounded like that?

Andrew was in turmoil, and he dropped his phone in favour of the bottle in his other hand. He drained it, tossing it to the end of the bed and picked up the phone again.

The screen lit up, showing a message from Richard.

Sorry dude. I had no idea that he was literally going to body me to get the phone. Are you okay? Should I tell the police that he’s coming? He wouldn’t hurt you, would he? What the hell happened?

Andrew felt his lip tremble. He knew that Maxwell would never hurt him the way that Richard was suggesting, but he was greatly appreciative that Richard was even concerned for him. He let out an exhale, staring at the message. He sniffed, wiping his eyes under his glasses with his fingers as he began to type out what happened. Seeing the words in person made the tears fall and he began typing through them.

Everything went smoothly until I spoke over Maxwell for a concern I had. Maxwell shut down. He didn’t like it. We got into an argument, and we both said some hurtful things. I told Maxwell I wasn’t liek the other alhpas that he knew. He didnt stop me hwen I left. So, hotel.

Andrew sent the message, tears blurring his vision and he sniffed. He got out of the bed, looking around the space and laughed, shaking his head before he started looking for another bottle of whiskey.

After a few moments of looking, he found that he was out and Andrew frowned. Could he order some to the room? Was that something that he could do?

Pulling out his phone again, he began searching for what he could and couldn’t do, and was surprised when he found that he could, in fact, order alcohol to his hotel room.

Excited, the buzz hitting, Andrew began to place his order, put in the instructions, and sent off the order. Excited, he headed for the bathroom, cleaning himself up slightly to answer the door when the delivery person came by. They said it wasn’t going to take too long, about half an hour, so Andrew took some time to bury his face in a pool of water and try to clear his head.

He knew it wasn’t exactly the most sane thing to do, but he didn’t exactly feel normal currently. His insides were twisted, his heart hurt, and he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to recover from this.

Plus, the water acted as a barrier of sorts. He couldn’t breathe it in, he couldn’t breathe out. It centered him slightly, and after doing that a few times, he felt a little calmer. Like he had his head on straight.

He had completely forgotten he’d messaged Richard at this point, and was just excited about the liquor that was on its way. He would probably order room service again at some point, but for now, it was just liquor, and maybe some trashy t.v. to take his mind off of his personal disaster of a life.

Maybe someone else was having a worse time than him?

A knock sounded on the door, and Andrew, who had his face buried in a soft hotel towel, jerked with excitement! His liquor!