(based on I Don’t Smoke by Mitski)

“If you need to be mean,” you started in a sharp tone, jaw clenched in anger—eyes settled on the Major in front of you. John Egan.

He was grieving, reckless, and a whole different person than he was a week before. That’s what grief does to you. He cast his glazed over eyes to you, breathing heavily. “Be mean to me.” you finished, fists clencing into balls at your side.