One too many drinks had convinced Jesse’s alcohol riddled-brain that violence was the answer to all the problems that he felt needed to be solved in that moment. The group of “friends” he had gone out with were shitty people anyway. Why should he care about damaging a few already unstable relationships? He didn’t.

Fighting was the closest he could get to feeling free without doing something utterly reckless. But, God did he want to do more. A self destructive type of distraction. That rush that came with letting go of all of inhibitions? Addicting. He could spend his entire life chasing it and never get enough.

His actions, of course, were not without consequence. Your number had been the one he requested the police to call after they locked him behind the familiar bars of a cell. Jesse couldn’t recall how many weekends had ended like this; him in jail and you coming to his rescue. It wasn’t fair really, the way he played with you, pushing and pulling as he saw fit.

But you were the only constant in his life. If Jesse was a storm, you were the eye.

He didn’t have to wait long before his name was called for release. Sober enough, he navigated the familiar halls of the police station to where he knew you’d be parked out front, disappointed as always. “Well if it isn’t my savior, my hero, the moon in my sky,” he exclaimed, scoffing when you swatted away his hug. “Oh don’t tell me you’re upset, doll. This is our thing, you and me. Nothing wrong with a little routine, right?”