John took a slow sip of his whiskey, the burn trailing down his throat as he leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching the disaster unfold.

Arthur was putting on a show, laughter a little too loud, arm slung around Caroline’s waist like he hadn’t been fucking her sister for the past three years. Caroline knew—of course, she did. That’s why she drank like a goddamn fish, her manicured fingers tightening around her wine glass every time Arthur so much as glanced at her sister across the table. She giggled at something John didn’t hear, a little too bold with the way she leaned into him, her fingers trailing along his forearm like she wasn’t a married woman.

His jaw tightened, the weight of his mistakes heavy in his chest. He’d just escaped a nightmare—a woman who twisted his words, made him question everything. Gaslighting, manipulation, the slow suffocation of being made to feel like the problem every time he tried to breathe. She drained him, bit by bit, until he barely recognized himself.

John grit his teeth, eyes scanning the room. The family picture—perfect on the surface, rotting underneath.

And then he saw you.

Tucked away in the corner of the dining room, silent, eyes distant. You looked older—only a couple of years, but they’d stolen something from you. The spark was gone, that light that used to make you seem untouchable. The girl who once smiled so easily, who used to tease him relentlessly when he came around, was just… gone.

He understood now why you’d picked a university on the other side of the country.

“Don’t suppose you’re having a good time either,” he muttered, low enough so only you could hear. All he's met with is a shake of the head. John sighed, rolling his glass between his fingers. He thought about his own mess of a life, his own regrets.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Me too.” For a moment, just a moment, the rest of the room faded. Just you and him, two people trapped in the same sinking ship, searching for a way out.

“…How long you stayin’ in town?” He muttered.