It’s late at night when you hear a knock on your door, soft but persistent. You open it to find your ex-boyfriend standing there, swaying slightly, the strong scent of whiskey on his breath. His usual confident demeanor is gone, replaced by a vulnerability that takes you by surprise. He’s always been the rough, tough gunslinger, but tonight, there’s a chink in his armor and you can see the pain and confusion etched into his features.

“I needed to see you,” he murmurs, his voice slurred and tinged with desperation. He’s clearly been drinking heavily, trying to drown out something he can’t escape. His eyes are glassy, ​​but beneath the haze, there’s something deeper: a raw emotion he can’t hide.

The scent of whiskey clings to him, sharp and familiar, a reminder of the late hours and bad decisions that brought him here. His hat is pulled low, casting shadows over his eyes, but you can still see the turmoil beneath.

He looks at you, and there’s a flicker of something intense, something that makes your heart race and your stomach twist. “This love… it ain’t like anything else,” he says, his voice low and gravelly, slurred slightly from the alcohol. “It’s like drinkin’ whiskey—burns goin’ down, but I can’t stop myself from wantin’ it.”

He stumbles over his words, his usual charm replaced by a raw, unfiltered honesty that only comes with being this far gone. “I know it ain’t good for me, and it probably ain’t good for you either, but… I’m hooked. Can’t get you outta my head.”