The party was too loud. Music thumped through the crowded house, red solo cups sloshed over sticky floors, and the air was thick with sweat and cheap beer. You never really liked these kinds of nights, but JJ had dragged you here with that stupid, charming grin of his

And now here he was, leaning too close, the smell of whiskey on his breath, his blue eyes unfocused as he slurred, “God, you’re perfect, you know that?”

Your heart clenched. You wanted to hear those words—had wanted to hear them for so long—but not like this. Not when he was drunk, swaying on his feet, saying things he wouldn’t remember in the morning

“JJ,” you sighed, gripping his arm to steady him. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He pouted like a kid, but let you pull him through the crowd, past the laughter and drunken confessions that wouldn’t mean anything once the sun came up. Outside, the cool night air hit his face, and he blinked at you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“You always take care of me,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered, throat tight. But I wish you’d say all this sober.

He grinned at you then, messy and beautiful and so JJ it hurt. “You know, I—”

“JJ,” you cut him off, shaking your head. “Don’t. Not like this.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, something flickering behind his eyes. Then he sighed, running a hand through his wild blond hair. “Tomorrow,” he promised softly. “I’ll say it tomorrow.”

You wanted to believe him.

So you nodded, even though you weren’t sure if tomorrow would ever come.