What we’re looking for: (But don’t worry, doesn’t have to be this long~)

Fitz crossed and recrossed his legs in boredom, his tired eyes staring at the dark blue colored bottle of SKYY vodka. His eyes were enveloped by dark circles, his mouth turned into a scowl as he sulked in his worthless and isolation. His cool, marble face continued to stare blankly at the bottle, and he rolled his eyes, extending his arms towards the sleek bottle. The SKYY vodka felt oddly heavy in his hands, and he weighed the bottle, weighing it up and down, as if measuring the weight of its contents. Fitz shrugged carelessly, maneuvering his large hands so that he opened the cap easily, an audible pop was heard as the cap was taken off the bottle. Fitz pursed his lips absentmindedly, and swallowed, anticipating the clear, potent liquid seeping through his veins. Maybe then, I can get a fucking decent night’s sleep, he mused to himself maliciously.

Without hesitation, he leveled the dark colored bottle to his lips, and he angled it so that the intoxicating liquid poured into his mouth, and Fitz winced, feeling the alcohol sting the roof of his mouth. He swallowed the vodka, shaking his head in disgust as he fought a strong aftertaste. He clicked his tongue, frustrated that the vodka hadn’t taken its effects as quickly as he wanted it to. Fitz wanted to fucking knock out, forget about everything. He was obtusely aware of his surroundings, and he noted the annoying humming of the computer that persisted hum, and the music that blared from his stark white earphones. Fitz scoffed to himself, and took another swig of vodka, sighing in repulsion as the strong liquid numbed the inside of his mouth. He chuckled to himself stupidly and abruptly stood up, shaking his head as the sudden movement caught him off balance. He blinked his sunken eyes as he steadied himself, shifting his weight from side to side as his hands sloppily grazed his oak table, searching for his laptop without looking. His vision was blurring, and is head felt heavy.

He sighed in satisfaction as his pale hands made contact with his sleek computer, upon which he slammed the laptop shut, causing a perceptible slam as it closed abruptly, craning his head around his room, as if expecting a change. Fitz rolled his eyes as his vision was welcomed by dull, off white colored walls and a various array of paraphernalia. It’s always the same shit, he thought to himself humorously. Shaking his head wearily, he tightened his grip on the glass bottle of vodka he had been drinking, and he took another long drink, the clear liquid taking its toll on Fitz’s senses. His eyes were watering, and he had to blink several times in order to be able to see. Good news was, his mouth stopped stinging as the substance passed in his mouth—he had downed too much of the vodka for his mouth to be able to feel anything. Fitz bit the inside of his mouth, and laughed to himself irrationally as he couldn’t feel anything. His senses became dull, slower, and his head was drooping, his eyes fluttering. Fitz took another long drink, the bottle feeling unusually heavy in his hands, even though he drank most of the liquid that was inside it.

Groaning to himself, Fitz pulled his feet across his carpet, his socks dragging against the dark colored carpet as he threw his body on the bed, causing an audible creak as his weight was thrusted across the stark white covers. Fitz murmured incoherent words to himself as he pulled himself to the edge of his bed, sloppily placing the bottle of vodka next to the leg of his bed, the bottle containing little liquid left, the rest of it in Fitz’s system, coursing through his veins, dulling his senses. Fitz groaned to himself as he turned on his bed, his head feeling heavy and his vision blurred by tears that brimmed his eyes. He forced his eyes shut, and rubbed the water from his eyes with his hands, a snarl on his pink lips. His breathing began slowing, and his shoulders relaxed against the clean white sheets that were under his hulking body. Fitz’s head moved absentmindedly on his pillow and he eventually fell asleep, the vodka working its effects on his plaguing thoughts. For now, his bombarding thoughts, his inner conscience was silenced. The vodka numbed his senses, took away his ability to feel. Fitz’s inner mind was wrapped in its own abyss, at least for tonight.