Eric stood in front of a white door. Gold numbers proclaimed, in their own quiet way, that this was the door to apartment 16B. He shuffled his feet and looked down the hallway, hoping for an excuse not to enter, when no distraction appeared- he knocked. There was only silence on the other side of the door. He knocked once more before deciding to try the handle. It was unlocked.
16B was a wreck. It was, in fact, the messiest apartment that Eric had ever seen. He took a tentative step forward and yelped when his step crunched loudly. The cause was the shattered remains of a lamp. "Rex?" A faint clunk was his only answer. Oh, this is so much worse than I thought... what did I do?
There was more furniture carnage on his way through the living room and his feelings of guilt deepened. There was another noise off to his right and he followed it to a door in the hallway. It was slightly ajar- it was unable to close all the way due to an act of architectural violence.
Eric pushed the door open slowly and immediately wanted to close it again. The room was, once anyway, a charming bathroom. Rex was in the tub. He was fully clothed... in the clothes from two days ago. His unshaven face contained blood-shot eyes and when they looked up at Eric he let out a harsh, barking, laugh. "So, here he is! The Great and Terrible Eric: Destroyer of Lives!"
"Oh, Rex... I'm so sorry. I just meant to kind of shock you into being yourself... I never meant-"
"Shut up, goddamn it! It doesn't matter. Will you help me to the toilet?"
Eric hesitated; "Are you going to be sick?"
"No. I have to piss. Will you give me a hand now?"
"Yes. Yes, of course." He helped Rex up out of the tub. It wasn't easy and involved excessive use of elbows by both parties. They then awkwardly shuffled over to the toilet. "So, umm.. I'll just go-"
"No, wait."
"Excuse me?"
"I need you to help me."
"Dear lord, Rex, how much did you drink? I mean, you smell like a distillery, but I was hoping that meant you spilled a lot."
"Nope! I drank that whole bottle!" Rex pointed rather proudly to an empty fifth of gin in the tub. "Now help me aim this thing."
Eric, who had all but raped Rex on the subway, found this situation acutely embarrassing. He looked down long enough only to help Rex get out his dick and then make sure his stream was hitting the toilet. Then, blushing, he looked aside. To his great frustration the feel of Rex in his hand was making him very aroused- this was not how he had envisioned a second encounter. He had actually thought of himself as some kind of white knight saving Rex from himself. This was obviously not the case and he was feeling more like a villain by the minute. The visions of sweeping Rex off of his feet were quickly changing into visions of sweeping him into a rehab.
The sound of Rex urinating stopped. "Hey, Eric, I'm done!"
"Okay. Then let's get you... um.. and then.." Eric was suddenly flummoxed as to what he should do. "Let's get you some coffee."
"Hey..." Rex's voice was soft.
"What, Rex?"
"You're still holding my pecker."
Eric came to two sudden realizations. One, that Rex was right and his hand was still full of dick, and two; Rex was starting to get very aroused. "Oh, um, sorry.." He let go and stood there, rather lamely, trying to pretend that Rex's half-stiff prick wasn't sticking out of his trousers.
"You lied to me, Eric."
"I'm.. I don't know what.. " Eric sighed loudly and made an exasperated gesture.