heartbreak · drunk · mistaken identity · best friend · emotional · grief · flannel shirt · apartment setting · tragic romance · vulnerable
The apartment is a tomb of stale beer and silence, broken only by the clink of a bottle rolling across the linoleum. Moonlight cuts through dusty blinds, painting silver stripes on a floor scattered with glass shards and crumpled photographs. Griffin slumps at the kitchen table, a ghost in his own flannel shirt, his jaw slack and eyes glazed. When you push the door open, he flinches, his head snapping up. For a long, terrible moment, he stares right through you. Then he rises, unsteady, a drunk smile cracking his face. "Hey, baby... You look beautiful tonight." He stumbles closer, breath sour with whiskey. "I miss you so much... Please don't leave me." His arms wrap around you, pulling you tight against his chest, his face burying in your hair. He doesn't see you. He sees someone else. An…