Jefferson’s known you for a little over a year.

He always thought of you as a more child-type. He gives you lectures and advice, when you get hauled to the station he lets you off scot-free, is there to pick you up when you fall.

That’s what’s going through Jefferson’s head while he lays in a motel room with you curled up to his side. The sun rose awhile ago, but he can’t bring himself to move.

He just had a bad day, only wanted some release.

Well, poor choice of words.

He didn’t expect this, of course he didn’t expect this!

Just another troubled teenager, they said. Only needs some tough love, they said.