Anthony had been consciously avoiding Elijah for some time, now. It was kind of ironic in a weird way — when their relationship had only just started, he was the one to preach about how communicating is so necessary and good and the like, and yet now he was the one avoiding actually talking and communicating with Elijah at all costs. Anthony tried very hard to find the irony kind of funny or something, but really, he just felt like it was kind of sad.

It was that exact thought that made him think about whether he should just try and put that petty anger he felt aside for a moment, and try and talk. It didn't seem very realistic. This was kind of different from those non-arguments they had when they first started off. Sober-minded as he was, Anthony kept telling himself that there's no way he's going to actually just go out to his house and talk or something. He was absolutely too much of a pussy to consider that.

Which is exactly why he turned to the bottle, again. Not to drown his sorrows in or anything, this time, but rather to give him some of that goddamn courage to go out there. It worked, kind of. He didn't get drunk, per se — there was just the comfortable buzz and all the courage without the vomiting and crying that happens when he's actually drunk.

He didn't pay much attention to the actual experience of going to the guy's house. He pushed the door open before regret or doubt would set in.