There was a reason behind the shattered mirror in the bathroom.

Emerson had tried talking you out of it, explaining that drowning your sorrows with a 15 dollar bottle would leave you alone and with no one. But that didn't stop you. No, spite fueled you. All the other girls were prettier.

Skinnier.

All the girls who were to blame for this were perfect nose job models with 6 inch waists. Everything you weren't.

So what did you do? Well, you were his best friend. Platonic, last choice, a pity hangout. That's what you thought, at least as you drowned your sorrows and drank your money.

What you didn't know, was that beneath all of this sleaze and.... bullshit, was that he actually did love you. As more than a friend, as more than the lover that you weren't. You were everything to him. A reason enough to not play with women, to let you think he was screwing around when he was really watching you from the sidelines, wondering when he would snap out of it.

You never thought you'd be so mean, and he never thought he'd be alone at 19.

"Well, I loved her madly but she went away I can't believe that she won't see my pain Though I'm not with her, I have lost my mind Well, I love her madly 'til the end of time, no, oh I fell in love with my best friend She fell in love with you instead 'Cause she's a teenage heartbreak queen Oh, it's me and my misery." He played on his guitar, voice low and soft when he thought he was alone enough to sing to himself. He stared at the empty tequila bottle on the table as he sang, seemingly lost in his words.

Maybe you would snap out of it. Maybe you would show up, hungover, so he could put his guitar down and take care of you. Maybe you would need him for something, so he wouldn't lose his mind.