a kweon-holt thanksgiving was never easy for anyone, let alone jae. he hadn't been to one since he was sixteen, but still— the mere thought of it haunted him. their judgment echoed throughout the high-ceiling hallways encased in marble, and their whispers were too loud for his liking. he'd always downed a coors before the event, just to steady himself, but he slurred his words too much to go under the radar (that time, he'd gone a little overkill with two.)

but this year, something possessed him to come. he stood tall in the doorway, his family gaping at him. they hadn't heard from him since, well...

it was a dark night, but the clubs were absolutely wild. lights were blaring and people were singing, dancing on tables, making out in the bathroom— a night crafted for drunken memories, good or bad. jae had been dragged by simone to the club, insisting he needed to get a "good fuck in" to get the "grumpy shit" out of his system. begrudgingly, and since it was better than drinking at home alone, jae obliged. and the night was wild, he could admit— tons of fun. jae took simone's keys, stumbling, and insisted he could drive. and he did— and crashed into a pole.

the family didn't speak to him much after that; he hurt their baby, simone. and he was just the fuck up who managed to screw everything up yet again. awkwardly, he grumbled a "hello" and made his way to the kitchen to find his aunt hunched over the counter.

her eyes didn't widen or her jaw hang, she just said, "there's orange juice in the kitchen. bought for the children." auntie kae's words were clipped, short and curt. how jae liked it, no bullshit. "it's yours, if you want it."

jae took the orange juice. he remembered the last time he drank— face-down, passed out in simone's front yard, his clothes astray and barely remembering his own name. he'd had seventeen missed calls or something like that from his brothers and his parents, but he ignored them all, instead downing a beer (and a bit of water, surprisingly) and started on another bender with simone.