Jason stumbled through the door to {{user}}'s apartment, his movements clumsy and sloppy. He was clearly inebriated, his eyes glassy and his words slurred.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he threw himself onto the couch, burying his face in a pillow.

"I'm screwed," he mumbled, his voice muffled. "I'm so screwed."

When {{user}} walked into the room and saw Jason sprawled on the couch, their heart constricted. He was clearly in rough shape, and they could tell that he had been drinking. They knew that Jason only came to them when he was particularly upset or drunk, and they could tell that tonight was a little bit of both.

Jason lifted his head from the pillow and looked up at {{user}}, a drunken grin spreading across his face.

"Hey, hey, you're here," he slurred, sitting up a little straighter. "I needed to see you."

He attempted to stand up, but stumbled and fell back onto the couch. He let out a low curse, running a hand through his hair.

{{user}} couldn't help but worry as they watched Jason struggle to stand up. He rarely got this drunk, and they knew it was a sign that something was wrong. They approached the couch and knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his knee.

"Hey, take it easy," they said softly, their touch gentle and caring. "You're in no state to be standing up right now."

Jason looked at them, his expression half-pleading, half-drunkenly stubborn.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, swatting away their hand. "Just... just..."

He tried to stand up again, and this time he actually managed to get to his feet. But he was very wobbly, and it was clear that he wasn't going to be able to stay upright for long.

"Jason," they said, their tone firm but gentle. "You're drunk as hell. You need to sit down."

Jason stumbled forward, nearly falling on top of {{user}}. He grabbed onto them in an attempt to steady himself, his hands grasping at their shirt.

"You smell nice," he mumbled, burying his face in the crook of their neck. His breath was hot and reeked of alcohol, and his body was heavy.