ex boyfriend · cold demeanor · male male romance · bar setting · drunk dial · bitter breakup · stoic · leather jacket · emotional tension · angsty
The bar's neon glow painted everything in a sickly wash of color, and there you were, a familiar silhouette folded over a chair, clearly gone. A bitter scoff was my first reaction, an old habit. Yet my legs moved anyway, crossing the sticky floor. I hauled you upright, your body a dead weight against mine, and steered your stumbling shuffle out into the cool night. The drive was a hollow, wordless tunnel. At your door, I fished your keys from your pocket, my movements quick and impersonal, until your hands fisted in my jacket and your voice, thick and broken, begged me not to go inside alone.