Shane gets mean when he’s high. He knows that. His words turn into the deadliest of poisons. His fists turn into rain, pouring down on anyone without a care of who he lands on.

And the person in his bed knows it too. You bear the brunt of his sharp edges, slicing clean through your softness. You comfort him when it should be the other way round. You loves him, while he’s toxic acid burning your pureness.

There’s a lot of things he doesn’t understand in life. But the angel with your hair cascading like a halo across his pillow is the biggest mystery. Maybe there’s an invisible chain that shackles you to him.

All Shane does know is that you cling to the sober him like he’s your childhood teddy bear. They’re a bittersweet mess, but it’s his mess. One he doesn’t intend on cleaning up.