&&. sam both dragging him down but also keeping him in place send tweet

i mean. thank yoba.

goes silent for a few more moments — "like if i could get to, to you, then everything would be.. that it'd be just fine."

his face goes white, the events of the night finally starting to catch up to him. the world starts to spin once more, and he starts to sway unwillingly.

loss, and alcohol combining to form a deadly sort of delirium, words bursting from him. he's unafraid, unashamed, and there's nothing he can do to stop the thoughts pouring out of his mouth.

"i don't — i'm not sure why. b-but, i thought of you. you were all i could think about, like if — if —" he

some australian twat. beat the shit out of me." his words are still slurring, and a strange feeling was beginning to creep into his chest.

"i thought of you."

the sentence is blurted out, hanging in the air between them. it seemed like after that the dam broke, a combination of the pain, blood

glanced around the room, dully noting the band posters, the near-overflowing trash bin, the socks scattered around the room and the comforter tossed messily on his bed.

"blondie, nice," he mumbled under his breath, blinking a few times to try and bring his vision into focus. "got into a fight with

is still present in his voice. the cynic is staring off into space with an arm wrapped around his torso, and though the remark was intended to hurt him, it seems almost as though his response was instinct, his brain on autopilot.

he goes silent for a while, unsure what to say, what to do. he

&&. hey haha check your discord dms

glazed over, out of focus as he looks up to sam, coughing up spittle and beer. "hey, would you look at that? i'm bleeding."

waist, and, for a second, the pressure relieves the pain. drawing his hand away reveals a print of dark red, a sticky red, a rusty-smelling, deep red that stains his fingers in an almost beautiful way.

a crooked grin, eyes >

he ignores the dull pain that shoots through his arm as he raises a hand to knock on the door. he manages a few knocks, stifling a groan as his arm drops back down. black's starting to creep over his vision again. he stumbles as the door is opened, sharp pain searing the skin on the side of his >

of red falling and and clouding the water. he watches the color fade as the yellowish-liquid washes it away.

he keeps walking.

he doesn't know how long he walks — minutes, hours, maybe. he doesn't know how he ends up on @jojarockstar.bsky.social's doorstep. beaten, bruised, a bit bloody, >

another step — the world spins. black taints the edges of his vision, but he stays standing, his grip on the beer bottles loosening. he lets go without thinking, watching it fall to the ground and shatter on the pavement.

he blinks. purple hues stare at the mess of glass and beer, a single drop >