The party your friends had hosted for you at a bar club was amazing. You had the time of your life. You were free. You were starting to forget about John—

“Sweetheart! I didn’t think you were here.” Johnny slurs before burping. He was drunk, something that happened often when the both of you were together. He hasn’t changed since.

“You look f*cking fantastic.” he drones, drinking in the way your dress hugs your curves. The faint smell of vodka on him was strong enough to kill a germ.