KSL had hurt his back later in that first week. He'd asked her if she had anything stronger than her normal painkillers. She hesitated, realizing she was anticipating something bad happening to her and had hung onto the last of the pain meds from her tonsils. Clearly he needed it more.
He finished it all off the first day, and he came home the next day very drunk and with a baggie full of prescription painkillers from his brother. She was a little concerned on how he had made it home in his condition, but he seemed to be fine.
He was happy drunk, her favorite version of him. Nameless had joked to her to keep her roommate drunk and she'd never have a problem, because she was tolerable when everyone else was drunk. She knew he'd been joking, but in every joke there was a grain of truth. She'd been upset and uptight, and it must have been hard on him.
Right that moment however, he was drunk-jovial even in his intense pain. He made himself a drink and busied himself in the kitchen while demanding to know how the wedding went. She went through her realization story as he continued to interrupt her with his own evening. A heart to heart with his brother, drinking games with his friends. He told her to follow him into his room, as he stripped down to his underwear to get into his PJs. Even though she'd seen him in less it felt wrong and she glanced toward his closet as his clothing got stripped down, only looking back over at him once he had something on. He insisted she come in and sit on the bed and talked to him while his meds kicked in, since the love sac was currently covered in his clothes.
The conversation got very deep and meaningful, and she knew that meant he was so far gone he wouldn't remember most or all of it. Even as relaxed as he was, his self-doubt and low self esteem crept into the subject matter. He made mention that he was glad she "lowered herself" enough to be roommates with him. She reminded him that she wouldn't have put herself in this position with just anyone, he was exactly one of two people that she would have lived with.
"Yeah, but clearly you don't have feelings, or never did have feelings for me, otherwise this," he gestured to their hilariously flawed apartment, "would never have happened."
She was a little hurt, but having to explain to someone who wouldn't remember made it a little easier. "It's called compartmentalizing buddy."
He furrowed his brow and said "Compartmentalizing? 'Splain."
"We've been over this dude. A long time ago. You know exactly what feelings were there for me. You made it clear they were not reciprocated. So I wrapped the feelings up, put them in a box, and shoved them in the closet."
He seemed sad and said he was sorry that this situation had made her have to put away her feelings.
"It wasn't this situation, it was just life. It IS just life. I would have had to do it anyway, regardless of living situation. It's okay."
He threw his arms out and gave her a puppy dog look, wanting a hug. She didn't want pity from him and resisted, but he told her to bring it in. The limp hug made it clear the medication was working and it was time for him to pass out. She kissed him on the forehead, turned off his light, and closed the door.