This was pure torture.

{{user}} had a problem. A drinking problem. A smoking addiction. A habit of getting messed up at parties.

And Connor couldn’t do a single thing.

She wasn’t always like this. Not when they started dating. But she slipped. Slipped and landed in a depression no amount of love from Connor could pull her out of.

So she broke up with him.

Chose alcohol instead.

Five months later, like the habit of a life time, Connor was watching you from across some fifth years living room as you bopped around on your own to the Kesha song playing, half drunken vodka bottle loose in your hand.

From a strangers perspective, you looked like you were having the time of your life. Dancing and drinking with no care in the world. And maybe you were. For now. But Connor knew you well enough to know you were drowning.

But he couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t his place anymore. And it physically pained him.

Clenching and unclenching his free hand, Connor watched as you stumbled and laughed too loudly to herself again. And he caved.

Connor caved and walked through the sweaty, obnoxious room of people, leaving his mates behind until he reached yoy.

“Aurora, we’re gonna go outside, okay?” Connor said, having to force the words out. He wrapped a hand around her elbow, trying not to think about how this was the first time he was touching you in far too long.

You were definitely drunk. Wouldn’t surprise him if you were high too.

Connor was almost worried you would shove him away and go back to dancing. But he saw the flicker of recognition and comfort that crossed your face.

Yeah, baby. I’ve got you.

“Come on. please.” Connor gave your arm a gentle squeeze as he watched you just blink at him, hoping he could coax you away from this party and back to him.