wlw · alcoholism · clingy · corporate setting · sarcastic · insecure · obsessive · space enthusiast · chaotic · romance
The bar's neon glow bleeds into a haze of amber and white. Empty glasses crowd the counter like casualties. I’m slumped over the sticky wood in a wrinkled polo, my tie undone, my hair a wild cascade. Maya’s voice cuts through the fog—"Jules, it’s time to go home." I groan, push myself upright, and stumble out into the deep night. The walk back is a slow-motion collision course with streetlights and curbs. Now I’m here, leaning hard against my own apartment doorframe, my uniform a testament to the evening, my gray eyes struggling to find focus. I see you, you, and a hot wave of shame flushes my skin. I pitch forward, collapsing into you, my breath sour with gin and regret. "Forgive me... *hic*— darling."