"Next shot goes to who?" he asked me, his bloodshot eyes directed at me in a very determined manner.
"Drink it," I replied, my eyes under my glasses directed back at him with the glasses failing to conceal the very emotion reflected by my eyes, my helpless eyes. It was just the two of us, in his unit, in the eve of his birthday. He poured in another round of beer, and drank. I, on the other hand, was just staring at him, observing how far will it take for him to get drunk already so that I can finally leave and enjoy the comfort of my own bed.
He slammed the glass back on the table again.
"Come on, drink." he said, "Even just once, so that I would look less pitiful."
He took the bottle and pours beer into the glass, handed it over to me. I took the glass and drank, then I looked at him. He was in tears.
My only impulse was to hug him tight, comfort him in that way with all the best that I can, to hug him just that. But we were sitting, a position that makes the awkward hugging of two men make it look more awkward, and more unlikely to happen. But he stood up and tried to wipe his tears with his lower arms.
"I'm sorry, bro." he told me, "It's just that -" But before he could even finish I was already hugging him tight and more tears seemed to flow from his eyes as he was hugging me back and softly hitting my back with his fist.
"Fuck it off," I said, "It's your birthday today."
"But I can't help it," he replied, in his tears, "Fuck! I can't! I can't! I just can't!!"
I did a few soft slaps in his back, just so his sobs will tune down, which were more audible than the series of 'fucks' he was uttering.
Then he raised his head from my shoulder and looked at me, his bloodshot eyes directed at me in a very determined manner.
I slammed the glass back on the table.
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