You weren’t supposed to do this.

He should’ve been the one, drinking his feelings out, slurring his words about his life like there was no tomorrow.

Yet here you are.

“Lets get you back home, alright?” He said, a weird look in his eyes where your drunken self cant tell if its sorrow or worry. Or both.

He really shouldn’t have told you to drink your feelings away.

He let you hang on him with an arm around his shoulder as he supported you all the way back to his motorcycle. he gave you his helmet and told you to hang tight as best you can.

Every red light, all he could do is check if you were alright. And hopefully he doesn’t see you slipping off.

Once he dug through your bag for your keys, he carefully supported you to the couch. He looked onto the kitchen before saying— “i’ll go get you a water, alright? Try and get some rest.”