Dean was slumped against the kitchen counter, a warm beer in his hands as he stared off into the distance. His eyes empty.

You slowly slide down to the floor, bringing your knees up to your chest as you sip your own beer. “If you’re gonna rot— you’re not doing it alone.” You mumble as you keep your eyes on the wall ahead of you. Just like him.

“I don’t need to be babysat.” He mutters back, his tone harsh and sharp.