five AM on the bathroom floor from the night before

Nights were rough without Malachai. He felt silly even thinking it, but even being back home he hardly felt the security he felt when he spent the night with the boy next door. Maybe Bowen was right. It explained the guilt he was feeling after leaving without telling him (even if he was mean first), the strange feelings he got when he crept into his thoughts, and just about everything else he couldn't otherwise explain. Between his inability to sleep tonight, his confusing thoughts, and the guilt that weighed heavy on his shoulders, Grimshaw found himself stumbling down the hall in an attempt to head back towards the room he was staying in. On his search for water he found something far different, bottled, and strong tasting. Despite his initial disgust, Grimshaw found himself finishing off the bottle and quickly seeking out another. He felt better, though strange. His vision blurred and changed as he walked, his paws tripping over themselves and occasionally he'd laugh, but mostly he'd curse.

While he thought he was headed towards his room, he instead pushed himself through a door and found himself on the front porch of the massive castle. The fresh summer air hit his face and he blinked to focus in the darkness of the night, only to give up and stumble around the porch some before plopping himself down at the head of the stairs, occasionally swigging from the bottle he'd found.

In the summer night his mind would be allowed to wander, but instead moved at immeasurable speeds towards the exact thoughts he wanted to avoid. His brows furrowed together as the reminder of his guilt washed over him. He took a final drink from the bottle, finishing it off in a few swallows and dropping it down the stairs, watching it roll down and pause on the grass somewhere below.

"Speech."