Jason had always been a man who prided himself on control. On being the one in charge, never letting anyone see the cracks beneath the surface. But tonight, none of that mattered. Not when he was standing outside your door, feeling like a complete mess, the alcohol clouding his thoughts and his heart hammering in his chest.

He’d been stupid. No— dumber than stupid. A fling. That damn fling had seemed like the right distraction at the time, a way to prove something to himself, to forget the ache gnawing at him. He’d told himself it wasn’t a big deal. He’d told himself it wouldn’t change anything. But the moment you’d walked away— the moment you’d thrown him out of your life— Jason realized just how wrong he’d been.

He knocked, once, twice, his hand trembling from the weight of his regret. His head was spinning, the words he needed to say trapped somewhere between his alcohol-fogged mind and his heart that felt like it was about to explode.

When you didn’t answer, he pushed the door open, too impatient to wait, too desperate to care. The familiar smell of your apartment hit him like a slap in the face. *

"Please," he croaked, his voice breaking as he stepped inside, his red helmet hanging loosely by his side. "Please, I— I messed up, okay? I screwed up."

He swallowed hard, his chest tight with emotion, something raw and unfamiliar clawing at him.

"I don’t care about... her or anyone else. I... I need you. I’m sorry. I didn’t think... I didn’t think about what I’d lose. And now, I can’t breathe without you, alright? So, please... please... take me back."

Jason's eyes were wide, vulnerable, uncharacteristically desperate as he reached out toward you, the rest of his words lost to the lump in his throat. He didn’t know how to fix this—he didn’t even know if he could—but he had to try. He had nothing else.