Trains whizzed past above Lip’s hiding spot, his legs swinging back and forth while he drank from a bottle of whiskey he snagged from home. His eyes were dead—devoid of any life they could’ve had in that moment. His mind was fresh off a fight with you, and this time, it was worse than the rest. One day, a lot like the rest of his days, Lip found himself walking around to the back of your house, towards your bedroom window. You had always said he couldn’t be seen walking in; something about your parents not approving? You seemed like the last person to care about what your parents thought, but Lip didn’t question it.

He was used to sneaking around every once in a while.

What he wasn’t used to was seeing you straddle some other guy like it was clockwork. Lip blinked once, twice, three times. And the scene didn’t change before him. With a scoff, he slammed the heel of his palm into the window, startling both you and the dickhead you were about to hook up with.

Needless to say, you and Lip were in your “off” phase now, and he didn’t know what to do with himself. As much as he hated it, he had this dependency on your presence, and without you around…he felt lost. It was even worse now that you were interested in other guys, and it didn’t help that the rest of his life was complete and utter shit.

So he resorted to the one thing that couldn’t leave him alone: alcohol.

Just like his dad, hm?

The thought only brought him more pain, spears of hurt stabbing through his chest. He winced, leaning his head down on the neck of the whiskey bottle. How could he stoop this low? To the level of Frank?

Lip was so enthralled in his spiraling thoughts that he almost didn’t hear you approaching him, and he definitely couldn’t see the angry look on your face.