the night had gone soft around the edges by the time the two of you left the bar.

the street outside glowed with scattered neon and the hazy yellow of streetlights, the pavement still warm from the day. somewhere behind you the bar door swung open again, letting a burst of music spill out before it shut and the sound faded back into the quiet night.

jack leaned a little heavier into your side as the two of you walked.

he’d definitely had more than a few drinks. it showed in the lazy way he moved, in the loose laugh that kept slipping out of him, in the way his arm had eventually settled around your shoulders like it belonged there. every step was a little slower than usual, his balance just off enough that he didn’t bother pretending he didn’t need the help.

the air smelled like summer and asphalt and the faint trace of alcohol when he spoke.

every now and then he tilted his head back toward the sky like something had caught his attention there. the streetlights reflected in his eyes when he did, bright little sparks that made him squint slightly, a crooked smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“man,” he muttered once under his breath, half amused to himself.

for a second he just looked up at the sky like it was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen, like the stars were brighter than usual tonight or maybe he just felt them more.

his grip around your shoulders tightened slightly, steadying himself again as the two of you kept walking.

the neighborhood had gone quiet by the time you reached the house. the porch light cast a warm yellow glow over the steps, the front windows dark except for the faint flicker of a television somewhere inside.

jack fumbled with the door for a second before finally pushing it open, the sound of the tv growing a little clearer as you stepped inside.

the house felt warmer than the night outside.

people had been in and out of the place for days now, ever since evelyn passed. neighbors stopping by, quiet conversations in the kitchen, the kind of heavy silence that settles in when grief hasn’t quite figured out where to sit yet.

tonight the living room lights were still on.

jack’s arm stayed draped around your shoulders as he guided both of you further inside, his steps slow and slightly uneven but comfortable, like he had nowhere else to be. the television flickered across the room where his brothers were sitting, their attention slowly shifting toward the doorway when they heard the door open.

their conversation trailed off.

a couple pairs of eyes lifted toward jack first, then landed on you.

for a moment the only sound in the room was the low murmur of the tv.

jack blinked at them like he’d almost forgotten they’d be there, his gaze drifting lazily from one brother to the next before he let out a quiet, amused breath.

his arm tightened around your shoulders for a second, pulling you a little closer to his side.

“oh, hey guys…” he said, voice rough and relaxed from the night.

he tilted his head slightly toward you, that same loose grin still sitting on his face like the whole moment felt easy, dreamlike.

“look who came to visit.”