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PROMISE ME, LADS

Hugh

NOVEMBER 2, 2003

C LEARLY , G IBS HAD CALLED FOR REINFORCEMENTS WHILE I WAS GETTING MY HEART broken, because when I made it back to his place, Feely was waiting with a bag of cans and a hug. Collapsing on the couch beside them, I broke down to the two lads that had been by my side since childhood and tried my damn hardest to drink myself into oblivion.

How could she do it to me?

How could give herself away like that?

Why wasn’t I enough for her?

I would have understood if I’d been a shitty boyfriend, if I hadn’t put her first or had ignored her feelings, but I’d never done any of those things.

“Listen, if you lads value me as a friend, you will never bring what happened with Liz and Pierce up again,” I slurred several hours later, a flagon of cider pressed to my lips. “I’ll fucking die,” I added, both drunk and dramatic. “I’m telling ya, lads, I will drop dead from this pain.” Taking another huge gulp of cider, I forced it down and then choked out a pained laugh that turned into a bitter sob. “I need to forget her, and I need you to help me.”

“Say no more, my brother,” Gibs was quick to offer, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “It has been erased.” Drunkenly, he waved his finger around like it was a bloody wand from Harry Potter. “Fresh start.”

“Are you sure about this?” Feely asked, cigarette balanced between his lips. “You’re making big decisions based on temporary hurt.”

“Hurt?” I barked out a pained laugh. “This is so far beyond hurt, lad, I don’t know how I’m still standing.”

“He is sure,” Gibs chirped in, “and he’ll be grand.” Smiling, he offered me a bear hug. “You’re going to drink the shit out of this two-liter bottle of cheap poison and then you’re going to puke your soul out and then, once you’ve slept it off, she’ll be out of your system, and you’ll be right as rain.”

“Maybe I should call her?”

“Fuck no, you shouldn’t,” he argued, snatching my phone out of my hand before I had a chance to flip the damn thing open. “You should delete her number.”

“I should,” I agreed and then groaned in physical pain as another flash of torturous images went through my mind.

Images of her under him.

Images of him inside her.

“I want to die.”

“Nope, can’t be doing that either,” Gibs slurred, sounding as fucked from the drink as I was. “I refuse to allow you to die a virgin.”

“What about Cap?” I blurted out, bleary-eyed and three sheets to the wind. “Shouldn’t he be here for the pact?”

“Kav?” Feely laughed, joining in on the drunken debauchery now he had loosened up with a belly full of vodka. “No offense, Hugh, and I mean this in the sincerest way, because I love Kav like a brother, but he hasn’t bothered to learn any of our sisters’ names, let alone girlfriends’.”

“Don’t you be talking shit about my Johnny,” Gibsie growled, puffing out his chest. “I’ll take the head off ya for that.”

“I’m not saying it as a bad thing,” Feely said, trying to placate him. “All I’m saying is Kav is interested in a grand total of three things: rugby, the labrador, and Gibs. Anything other than that and he’s not taking notes.”

“He likes you lads, too,” Gibs offered, but the smile on his face assured me that this little tidbit of information had made him feel like a million quid.

“Ah, come on, Gibs,” Feely argued with a laugh. “He goes away to camp every summer and the only person he bothers to reach out to is you.”

“That’s true,” I slurred, nodding my head. “You’re his favorite.”

“At least I’m someone’s favorite,” Gibs countered. “You two have always been closer than either one of you are with me.”

“Because your head is so far up his sister’s hole, it’s impossible to have a conversation with you that doesn’t contain the word Claire .”

“Because I love her, and she’s my intended,” Gibs declared before wincing. “Sorry, lad.”

“It’s grand, lad,” I mumbled, batting the air. “At least one of us is happy.”

“You’ll be happy again, Hugh. I can promise you that, lad,” Feely said, clinking his bottle against mine. “You’ll find ya a nice, steady girl,” he continued, nose scrunching up. “One who won’t fuck your teammates.”

“Or hate your friends,” Gibs chimed in, holding a hand up. “That would be nice.”

“True.” Feely nodded somberly. “Or go off the rails.”

Jesus Christ .

“Promise me, lads,” I heard myself beg, feeling my eyes burn with tears. “Promise to God, you won’t let me go back to her.”

“We promise, lad,” they both vowed in unison. “No matter what.”

No matter what .

Fuck.