1987, Bakersfield, CA.

James quietly snuck into the house, stumbling a little and praying you weren’t awake. He just got back from sneaking out to a party, and was pretty drunk.

Of course, you were in the kitchen, in the middle of getting a drink of water. You looked up when you heard him trip and hit the wall with his shoulder.

“Ow..” He muttered, then saw you. “Oh, shit. Uh, don’t tell mom.”