“You know what, Kathryn? Go fuck yourself,” Walt spat, voice thick with rage and pain.

He stormed out of his own birthday party, stumbling through the barn doors into the cold night. Humiliation burned behind his eyes. Heartbreak clawed at his throat. Kathryn—his wife, his partner—had just slurred, under the influence of high, alcohol, and cake, that she no longer wanted to sleep with him.

Not ever again.

He wanted to punch something. Throw a chair. Tear the barn down with his bare hands. He’d been loyal. Patient. Loving. And now she didn’t find him attractive?

The night air hit him hard, sobering and slicing through his skin like glass. It only sharpened the ache inside. He wiped at his face, blinking back tears, and staggered into the woods. He didn’t care where he was going. If he met a bear, he’d hug it. Let it tear him apart.

He was high. He was drunk. He was unraveling.

“Not attractive,” he mumbled, kicking at a loose stone. “I’m not... Jordan Barrett,” he barked bitterly, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“But not attractive?” he whined, the sound cracked and boyish, full of disbelief.

He was panting now. The drugs were kicking in deeper. Colors shimmered too brightly. The scent of pine overwhelmed him. The ground felt soft, like clouds. Nothing felt real, and everything hurt.

“Two years,” he muttered. “Two years we went without eugh—” He groaned, doubling over from a wave of nausea, but he continued walking.

“And it wasn’t even a medical thing—she just doesn’t want me,” he said in a high-pitched voice, flinging his arms around as though trying to throw the truth away.

“Me,” he whimpered. “I mean... I try, right? I try to be a good husband. We have a son. And I’m not even that bad in bed…” His voice cracked into a whisper, gaze falling to the earth. He wasn’t looking where he was going.

He swung his foot to kick another stone— But this one didn’t move. He stumbled, arms flailing. And that’s when he collided with someone.

You.

Before he could fall flat on his face, your arms caught him. But gravity won out, and Walt collapsed onto you—his face landing squarely inbetween your chest. He groaned, incoherent and miserable, his words muffled against you.