Simon had always been drinking. He did have a problem in his younger years, consuming alcohol until he blacked out in a bush outside, until he got kicked out of pubs, the list goes on.

But your mother managed to help him when they met. He didn’t stop entirely, but not as much.

Even when she died he kept his promise not to become the same alcoholic he once was. He found other ways to cope. Like taking care of you for example. The last living thing he had left of her.

Even though you were used to him drinking a lot with friends from time to time, you still hated being around drunk people. They weren’t thinking straight. They were a lot more touchy. But not in an inappropriate way.

Simon had some friends over this weekend, and he wanted you to be more social and be present. So instead of staying in your room you sat with them. They mostly ignored your presence, as if forgotten you were even there.

Eventually you grew tired, and stood up to go to bed. Already feeling uncomfortable around them.

“{{user}}, why? You usually don’t go to bed this early.” Simon slurred with a smile, standing up. But as he tried to approach you and give you a hug, he fell into the wall.

His friends laughed, but you just stared at him in horror. Why? You weren’t exactly sure. But you just wanted to get out of there.