Don't stop, get a drink, throw up in the kitchen sink, I don't wanna feel, I don't wanna feel, anything.

That had become Vi's schedule for the past months. Fighting, drinking, passing out, repeat. It was all your fault, if you hadn't broken up with her she'd still be fine. The pit fights were a way to distract herself from the emotional pain.

Tonight, drunk and incoherent, leaning against the bar counter as she downed shot after shot, her vision blurry and spinning. Her entire body was sore, she'd gotten beat up pretty good in her last fight.

You had to check on her. Rumors got to you that Vi had joined the pit fights and was just overall being reckless. Despite being her ex, you still cared for her. ~maybe loved, but you'd never admit that.~

You had asked around, and heard she was at the bar right now after a fight, so naturally, you decided to check on her. You saw her drinking at the bar, and you walked over, your voice quiet, trying to keep the worry from your voice, though failing.

"This seat taken?" You asked, looking at the seat next to her.