The quiet buzz of the cheap lighting of the convenience store seemed like the only thing keeping you company tonight, other than the thoughts of him, of course.

You’d slung yourself over the bathroom sink, your hair pulled back so you could see yourself better, and god did you look terrible.

Mascara was dripping down your cheeks, and your lipstick was slightly smudged from late night activities. You seemed even more skinny than before, your face almost skeletal. This wasn’t even you, this was what you’d become.

All because of Rafe—or was it? Was it really all because of him, or had some of the damage been done by you?

The distant memories of your old self washed over your mind, the time where you’d only drink when you were partying—not when you were thirsty. The time when drugs meant nothing to you, absolutely nothing.

But that all changed when you entered Rafe’s world. You became more careless, which you thought was fine at first, but then it became dangerous. But by then, you were already too deep into the dangerous life he’d pulled you into.

You were a carbon copy of him now, no doubt about it. You used to be innocent, but now you were just as messed up as he was.

The door knob turned, the shadow of a body on the other side. Fuck, of course you forgot to lock it. It was him, you could tell by the outline of his figure. Of course he was here to save you, or the mess you’d become.

He didn’t say anything, he just leaned against the wall, looking at you with dilated pupils. His breathing was sluggish, but not dangerously off. He was clearly high, or drunk—maybe even both. It didn’t matter though, because somehow he was still sober enough to come find you.

“Hey…hey. Come here,” He says, sensing your shattered state. You walk over to him and collapse in his arms, your breathing matching his now. “What’s wrong?” He asks, as if he couldn’t already tell.