Sakura did nothing wrong. But it felt wrong.
It felt like sin, like she condemned her own soul to the flames of hell. It felt like the darkness arrived to take her for her transgression. She could see it from the steam of her coffee, how it spewed from her mug and seemed to trace her form. Reminding her of what she'd done.
Her sin: Sakura Nelson had sex. With the third person ever in her life. She did it without loving him. She did it to feel better—to feel good. She felt like the worst person in the world. But everyone around her told her she did nothing wrong. That it was okay. She was single, she could have sex if she wanted to. She owed Aiden nothing.
Sakura did nothing wrong. But it felt wrong.
Despite the loose fit of her turtleneck, it felt tight and constricting. It was hard to breathe. Maybe it was the person seated across from her; his presence seemed to tighten around her throat. It felt like she was being suffocated.
And when she saw downturn of Jason's mouth, the flatness in his brown eyes, and the way he regarded her as he rested his cheekbone against his knuckles—a confession spilled from him, and he didn't even have to say a thing. She knew how he felt about her. She always knew. But until that moment, she didn't realize how deep.
Maybe it wasn't smart to rebound with the person her ex despised. Even more stupid to do it with someone who was obviously in love with her.
Her posture was circumscribed, shriveled, collapsing onto herself. And her eyes kept flickering between him and the untouched coffee mug. Out of his view, her hands nervously scuffled together on her lap. They'd been sitting for a while and hadn't spoken much. She kept micro focusing on little details about him. The stubble that sprinkled his face, how clean and short his nails were. The collar of his button up was sharp, like it could physically cut something. And his eyes—they looked so heavy, so disappointed.
"You look pretty," Jason said. It wasn't her intention at all. In fact, she hoped to appear less than attractive. No makeup, her hair held in place with bobby pins. But she could have been wearing a trash bag and he'd still have that dreamy look in his eyes.
Sakura tried taking a sip of the coffee, but it burned her tongue. "Thanks."
She saw Jason's eyes shift uncomfortably. "We haven't really talked since...you know."
The mere mention of it had her airways blocked. Their gazes met briefly, and she pulled away, sinking into her chair. A hum vibrated in her throat, attempting to speak but holding back. She didn't know what to say.
"I...I know."
As he tilted his head, he rested his elbows onto the wooden surface of the table. "I'm sorry, Sakura."
Her gaze pierced him like an arrow to the heart, her lips trembling with unspoken words.
"I shouldn't have done that," he clarified, a glint in his eyes that was hard to decipher.
"But I asked you to."
"I know, but..." She saw the unease on his face, as if he was grappling with an inner conflict. "I knew how you were feeling. I took advantage of you—"
"Maybe I took advantage of you," she said, and instantly her eyes grew wet and warm as her arms folded protectively over her chest. "Maybe I used you, Jason. Maybe I'm the shit person here, not you."
He sighed. "You're not a shit person."
"I definitely feel like one."
A silence passed between them. It was unsettling, awkward. Suddenly she could hear the lite rock music that murmured in the coffee shop. The seats, the table, the décor—it was all reddish brown. An ivory light shone above them.
Jason leaned back against his chair, sliding an arm behind the backrest. He gave her a look that said a thousand words, tragic poetry ejecting from his eyes. "I figured I was being used. I tried to convince myself I was okay with it. There are worse things than being used by the person you want."
Sakura took another sip of her coffee, feeling it scorch her mouth as she held the liquid under her tongue. It made its harrowing trek down the length of her throat. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
He chuckled, lightly and ironically, his eyes glancing toward his own untouched mug. Despite the smile on his face, she noticed an anguished pinch between his brows. "Yea, I know."
Her fingers curled on the table, tracing the divots in the wood. She didn't know what to say to fix everything between them. It felt ruined, tarnished. Even looking at him was hard.
"I want to want you, Jason."
He met her stare slowly, tepidly. And her eyes sank, cloaked in a sheath of unshed tears.
"It would be so much easier if I could. I know I'd be happier. You're good for me. You're good. I want to want you." And she paused, a cramp pulling at her chest as a heavy breath expelled from her nose. "But I just can't."
The last word carried an oppressive weight, tasting like poison in her mouth, its aftertaste lingering on her tongue. It was sharp, that it seemed to cut him, and he just looked at her for a moment, his expression neutral, unmoving.
"I want you to want me, too," he muttered, a glaze over his eyes as he pushed himself forward on the table. She froze when he took her hands. They were much bigger than hers, his thumbs strumming into her knuckles.
"The way I've wanted you for the last two years. Because I want you. So bad it fucking hurts. And not just for a night, Sakura. I want you forever."
He was good with his words. And it moved her, almost convinced her to choose him. Because he pleaded with his eyes, begging from the inflection of his voice. She had never seen him so serious and forlorn.
When he touched her hands, she remembered his touch on the rest of her body—the graze on her skin, along her thighs, her chest. Between her legs. And it felt good. It all felt so fucking good. But it wasn't the touch that she wanted.
She watched his expression fall as she pulled away from him. A lingering shiver passed through her, and it was getting harder to entrap her tears.
"It wouldn't be fair to you. To lead you on." And she took in a careful breath to prepare him for the burden of her next words. "I love Aiden. I want Aiden."
And he was handsome, and he was tall. He was nice to her. He went to all her performances. But she was stuck on one memory. The one that kept replaying itself in her mind, tormenting her so much that a part of her wished it never happened.
Aiden sat at a table with his friend and two other women. Teresa approached him when Sakura pointed him out. She watched in fear until he looked up and caught her stare.
The first intentional, direct meeting of their eyes. When she saw how green and bright they were, how interested he seemed in her.
"I feel like throwing up," she confessed, her gaze drifting to her lap as a slouch curved her back. The sound of Jason's sigh echoed, a tone of admitted defeat.
When she looked at him, she saw he had a stance similar to her own. "You feel like shit, I feel like shit. Even fucking Sage does. Nobody wins here."
The answer seemed so simple. If only it weren't for feelings and emotions to complicate everything.
~oOo~
As the tall glass of clear liquid was pushed towards him on the bar top, Aiden eyed it suspiciously before tilting the thin straw to his mouth. The cup was damp and dewy from condensation, filled nearly to the brim, teetering on the edge of spilling.
He pushed the drink back, recoiling in disgust. "What the fuck is this?"
"Water." Matthew had an impartial frown as he wiped down the counter with a rag. "I'm cutting you off."
Aiden huffed a breath, feeling the sleeves of his sweater get wet as he leaned forward on the bar. His head was pounding, vision blurred. He wanted to convince himself everything was a fucking illusion. He was so close to it, too, if Matthew would have just given him that next drink.
He could see him there, standing behind the bar looking so self-righteous. Wasn't he supposed to hate Aiden like the rest of them? Hadn't they all been recruited to do so? Fuck Aiden Sage, the lying cheating scumbag. Why would he care if he got wasted to the point of sickness?
"You're killing the vibe," he groaned, sliding strands of brown hair behind his ear that had escaped his ponytail. He threw his head on the countertop, burying his face in his forearms.
"You're here alone in an empty bar at seven pm on a Saturday. Trust me, there's no vibe to kill."
Aiden lifted his face, his sight refocusing to discern Matthew. He wore a usual dress shirt and vest, his sleeves pushed to his elbows, dirty blonde hair parted neatly. A frown pulled at his lips just looking at him, how put together he was. "You hate me, too, then, I take it?"
Matthew rolled his eyes generously, shaking his head. "If I hated you, I'd let you sit there and drink yourself to death."
"Then just fucking let me."
He rubbed his head as he looked at Aiden, an uneasiness glooming over his chestnut eyes. "You'd really rather drink it away instead of facing your problems like a man?"
And he groaned again, this time elongated, the sound grumbling in his neck. "Haven't you heard I'm a coward? This is what I do. I drink, I hide. I wallow in my own fucking misery. So quit trying to lecture me and give me another round."
Their eyes briefly met, but Matthew's features were starting to blur once again. Aiden blinked, but it wasn't enough to steady his vision.
"As much as I appreciate your tips, I told you—I'm cutting you off." Matthew pushed the glass closer to him, and a few drops spilled on his arm. "Now drink some fucking water, Aiden."
He sipped carefully from the straw, hearing the ice cubes clink together melodically. After a few gulps, he stopped, feeling the bitter coldness shoot a sharp pain into his head.
Matthew watched him like he was an animal in the wild. His shirt creased as he crossed his arms. Aiden must have been quite the pathetic specimen for him to dedicate so much attention to him.
"If it helps, I don't think you're a monster."
Aiden squinted his eyes, partly from his statement, but more so because it was getting harder to see by the second. "Then what am I?"
"A fucking drunk." Matthew sighed, leaning forward onto the bar to address him directly. "Not sure if you realized this, or if anyone ever told you. But you have a problem."
Aiden wasn't going to argue about it. He knew. And he did for a long time. But at this point, he really didn't care.
"I think you drink and make stupid decisions. Then you drink to cope with those decisions."
Aiden struggled to lift his body from the bar, a glassy look in his eyes as he tried to meet Matthew's gaze directly. "Wow, somebody give this man a Nobel prize. He figured it out."
"Is this how you treat everyone who tries to help you?"
At his snappy remark, Aiden fell silent, his lips pursed together as his eyelids began to droop. He felt too sick to fall asleep—a nausea subsiding in the pit of his stomach, pain pounding at his temples. His throat felt dry, but he didn't want any more water. He just wanted to keep drinking.
But he slid the straw into his mouth anyway, sipping tediously. "I can't be helped."
"Of course you can. But that would require you to actually try. It's easier to just feel sorry for yourself and do nothing."
Aiden chucked a laugh, rubbing his forehead diligently. "Matthew coming at me with the tough love tonight." His expression turned grave as he locked eyes with the bartender. "I fucking know. Happiness is a choice. I've seen enough shrinks. I know everything that's wrong and how to fix it."
And Matthew narrowed his eyes, releasing some of his weight from the counter. "Then why don't you?"
Aiden found himself twirling the straw in the glass, watching the ice clink together, how the water moved alongside in harmony. He didn't look at Matthew when he said, "I don't know."
Matthew walked to the row of liquor behind him, grabbing a bottle of vodka and pouring it into a shot glass. He downed it in one gulp, his face recoiling with bitterness.
He looked at Aiden, but more past him than directly at him. "Do you remember that song from a couple of years ago, Scatman?" When he didn't reply, Matthew chuckled, stroking his chin. "Doesn't seem like the type of music you'd be into."
But Aiden moaned, immersing his face into his palms. "I'm too wasted to even try to pretend I didn't love that fucking song."
A grin consumed Matthew's face as he laughed, and he poured himself another shot, pushing the sleeves of his dress shirt. "The song is brilliant. I mean, every time it starts, I'm like, how did this even make it on the radio? But give it a few seconds, and you'll get it. And then you realize it's like a total masterpiece."
Aiden looked at him blankly, a drop of drool lingering at his lip. "Is there some life lesson you're trying to teach me here?"
"I'm getting to it," he said, pointing to an empty small stage in the back of the room.
"We used to have karaoke nights here last year. Worst fucking days to work. All the drunks or people trying to show off their voices at a college bar. Teresa came here with Sakura and Andrew one night with the worst fakes I'd ever seen."
Aiden felt his pulse accelerate at the mere mention of her name. Thoughts of her—her sweet smile and silvery eyes—surfaced, leaving him with conflicting emotions of joy and misery. Why wouldn't Matthew give him that drink he ordered? He needed just one more drink.
"I thought Teresa was cute. She dressed like a Barbie doll. She had on these hot pink high heels. I only remember because she nearly fell trying to walk up the stage. And I had no idea what song she was going to sing. But I swear, the moment I heard her open her mouth, I knew I was in love with her."
"Oh my god," Aiden interjected, grasping his head for support. Somehow, he knew where this was going. "She did fucking Scatman."
Matthew laughed, a sort of giggle escaping, his Adam's apple bobbing as he rubbed his chin, seemingly immersed in the memory. "Yeah, and it was spot-on. Perfect. Even better than the man himself. Everyone went crazy. I've never been more impressed in my life."
His eyes shifted from the dusty stage back to Aiden's miserable existence. He frowned, his posture easing, a touch of pity cloaking his expression. "I knew she was something special after that day. I just wanted her to sing Scatman for me, and no one else. So, I went after her, and I didn't give up."
Aiden glared at the speckles of water decorating the bar top. It felt so dark in there, except for the soft white light that surrounded them. He could hear the faint rhythm of a pop song lurking in the background. The Scatman melody quickly became a persistent earworm.
When Matthew planted his palms on the bar directly in front of him, Aiden looked up wearily, and their eye contact felt uncomfortable.
"You gave up, and now Sakura's out there singing Scatman for someone else. And now you're pissed. But it's her voice, she can do what she wants, and you let her down. You could've had her sweet voice all to yourself, but you fucked up." He gave him a very intense stare, lifting his brow. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"
Aiden fixed a keen stare on him, concentration etched into his eyes. A heavy sigh escaped his lips, and as he leaned forward, his brows angled.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Matthew groaned, in defeat, in aggravation, taking a step away as he ruffled his hands through his hair. "For fuck's sake, I forgot I'm talking to fucking drunk." He let out a heavy exhale before redirecting his focus to his inebriated customer. "I get off early tonight. If you wait for me, I can drive you back. How's that sound?"
Aiden reached for the straw with his mouth, but he missed. "I can walk."
"Just sit there and get hydrated."
Aiden didn't know how long he waited. It all went by like a fucking blur. Soon Matthew was dragging him out of the bar, balancing his weight on his shoulder. He flung himself out of his grasp to hurl onto the sidewalk. Matthew stood there idly, watching him throw up straight bile and alcohol. Others walked by and glanced at the pitiful sight.
Aiden felt like a bag of rocks, being shoved into the front seat of Matthew's car. His head was spinning. Somehow throwing up his guts made him feel worse instead of better. How much did he drink? It didn't feel like much. But it proved enough to send him stumbling with each step, everything spiraling—his thoughts, his vision, every single sound.
He almost drifted off to sleep, but Matthew shook his shoulder, forcing his eyes to snap open. He didn't know what he was staring at, at first, until he slowly realized it was the clean leathery interior of a car. His eyes narrowed as he turned his head to look at Matthew. The darkness of the night highlighted the shadows of his face. He seemed very solemn, serious, yet somehow understanding. He squeezed Aiden's shoulder sympathetically.
"Do you need help getting inside?"
Aiden opened his mouth, but it took him a second to reply, almost forgetting how to talk. "No. No, I'll be okay. Thanks for bringing me back."
When he reached for the handle at the door, Matthew clenched his shoulder again. "Aiden, wait a second."
Their eyes caught uncomfortably. It was worse being alone in the car with him. Less space to hide or cower in his sarcasm. Matthew's lips squirmed as a gentle sigh warmed his nose.
"Sakura's dance thing is coming up. The week after Thanksgiving. We're all going to see her." He eyed Aiden carefully, trying to visibly catch his response. "You should go."
Aiden felt the urge to throw up again, a dampness glossing his eyes, and he snapped his neck away. "I don't think she'd want me there."
"She's mad at you. I know it, you know it. But I also know it would probably mean a lot to her if you showed up to see her dance."
Their eyes met once more, but this time, it felt less strained and agonizing. Aiden eased into a more relaxed expression, his breath falling into a controlled rhythm.
"Buy a ticket and go see her."
Aiden nodded, and Matthew smiled. It was probably the first time anyone had showed him any kindness since he started this mess. He appreciated it and really fucking needed it. It was nice to know there was at least one person who looked at him and didn't immediately see a monster.
As he staggered out of the car, he felt Matthew clamp onto his wrist, slightly pulling him down. The look he shot him carried unease.
"You should get some help. For your drinking."
The way he stared at Aiden, it was like he burrowed into his soul. It felt invasive, that he wanted to force himself away. But he sighed instead, and Matthew let him go. He waited until Aiden walked to the front of the building before he drove away.
It was fucking freezing, and all he had on was an unzipped leather jacket. Nobody was there to tell him to dress warmer. Sometimes he wondered why he didn't care unless someone told him. He was a fucking grown man. He should've been able to dress for the weather instead of making a fashion statement. It was like he needed someone to care for him, that by leaving his jacket unfastened, someone would eventually help him fix it.
He barely got to the door before he felt another wave of nausea strike him. It crept from the bottom of his stomach to the base of his mouth abruptly, and he chucked himself forward, cradling his abdomen as he released another influx of vomit.
The taste was bitter, revolting, the flavor pricking every bud on his tongue as acid scorched his throat. He bent to his knees, unable to stop. It was coming out as a stuttered flow, and he found himself choking from the incursion, the raid of bile that assaulted his mouth.
It was all he could hear, taste, smell. Tears stung his eyes. It fucking hurt so bad how sick he felt. And still no relief, no matter how much he puked. Drool dribbled down his chin as he wiped away the tears staining his cheeks. Coughs vibrated in his throat as he gathered the strength to stand back up.
Despite the perversion of his senses, he caught a whiff of smoke, and his neck snapped so quickly to the source that he almost broke it. His blurred view took a moment to focus in on the body standing beside him. He blinked once, and then twice. A third time hoping the apparition would change.
A cigarette perched between puckered lips, eyes the color of wet sand gaping towards him with a mix of pity and frustration.
A puff of smoke snaked between them. A hand ran through styled brown hair. The same eyes looked him up and down.
"You look like shit."
Aiden froze in place, watching him smoke. It felt like his legs were made of brick, cemented and unwilling to move. His fingers curled into fists, but it was weak. He found the will to snarl, his teeth gnashing together as a growl rumbled in his throat.
"Dickweed," he groaned, and he felt his knee give out. "You have some fucking nerve."
But Jason stood there, unfazed, his hands buried in his jacket as he balanced the cigarette between his teeth. He seemed to be looking off into the distance, his mind heavy, like Aiden wasn't even there.
The stream of smoke encompassed his body, and through Aiden's drunk eyes, it appeared celestial. As if Jason was some kind of hellish angel sent to punish him. Why was he standing there talking to him? Did he get a kick out of watching him suffer?
He felt a burning in his chest, something he assumed was anger or rage. But when the feeling slinked towards his throat, he gagged, heaving forward as he let out another round of vomit.
It fucking burned. It was like throwing up straight fire. And Jason just stood there, smoking like some kind of asshole, the two of them braving the cold together surrounded by nothing but the flickering lights of the lamp posts.
Aiden glared down at the mess he made. It looked like someone had spilled a bucket of water. At this point, he was retching up pure bile.
And he saw Jason's eyes shift down to the tainted cement, a frown tugging at his lips before their eyes connected. It was piercing, pungent, like looking directly into the sun. Their glares burned holes into each other, their eyes silent bullets.
Jason sucked in his cheeks as he took another swig of his cigarette, releasing the foggy breath through his nose. "You're a sloppy drunk," he mused. "Some things never change."
Aiden's legs moved towards him automatically, that he wasn't even thinking when he grasped the collar of Jason's jacket and jerked him forward. He saw him bite down on the cigarette, his brows furrowing and pressing dimples into his skin before he shoved Aiden off him.
"I'm not fighting you, shit face. Look at you, you can barely walk."
Aiden struggled more and more to stay upright, and the vision of Jason now painfully sharpened and crystallized against his sight. All he could feel was the fury that burned through his bones. He wanted nothing more than to shove his face into the cement and watch him bleed, to destroy the deviant eyes that had found satisfaction in seeing Sakura's beautiful body.
But he was stumbling, shifting in his stance. Everything started to spin again. God, he felt fucking horrible.
"What the fuck do you want?" Aiden shouted at him, his voice thick and slurred as he kneaded his eyes, hoping to make the spinning stop. "You wanna rub what you did in my face? Wanna see me squirm? Fuck you, asshole. Get the fuck out of here."
Jason didn't react, but just kept smoking. His eyes closed each time he sipped from the cigarette, as if relishing in the bitter taste of the tobacco as it warmed his throat. He fixed his gaze on the moon, a half-crescent gleaming above, stars embellishing the night's canvas.
"Andrew got a girlfriend. I think you met her." Jason chuckled to himself, immersed in the swirling moonlight. "She and her friends all smoke. They got me into it. It fucking sucks. But it's something to do. Kind of like how you drink. But at least it doesn't turn me into a prick."
He finally looked over at Aiden, his expression unaltered, undecipherable. He seemed like an empty vessel, devoid of any discernible emotion. It was haunting, unsettling. Almost as if he had given up, just like him. The smoke caressed his body, serenading him.
"You know what's funny, Aiden? I did everything right. At least, I tried to, anyway. And you—it's like you fucked up on purpose. But you still win in the end. You fucking win. All you have to do is fucking try. And you can't even do that."
A beat passed. The crickets sang in the darkness, a gust of cold air rippling with hostility alongside them. Aiden hugged himself to combat the chill, shivering as he curled forward. He felt sick again. The next bout of nausea was sure to arrive at any moment.
Jason tapped his cigarette, ashes sprinkling the air like specks of glitter. He held the stick in his hand, noticing how a cloud of smoke shrouded him as he exhaled from his mouth. Then he looked at Aiden, his eyes sinking into his skull. He could feel the intensity from him. He had never seen Jason so fucking serious.
"Why don't you do the one thing Sakura wants you to do? Why won't you try to win her back?"
A grimace took Aiden's face, and everything just felt heavy. His head, his eyes, his entire fucking body. Even his mind.
"I did." He countered. "You got in the way."
Jason huffed, his stare drifting away. "She doesn't fucking want me. I'm not the reason. She's waiting for you to make a move, and all you're doing is stumbling around like a fucking drunk."
Aiden felt every muscle in his body clench when he took a step towards Jason. A quaver ran through the front of his thighs, and he felt the power of his fists as his fingers delved into his palms. "You don't know shit. You know nothing about me. And you sure as fuck don't know a damn thing about Sakura."
Jason took a moment to close his eyes as he breathed in the cigarette, the smoke thick and smooth as it spilled from his lips voluptuously. A delicate fog coiled, mingling with the air and the stars. His neck barely turned when he looked at Aiden, his stance nonchalant.
"I know she gets wet when you touch her breasts."
Another breeze. This one was stifling, bitter. It swam against them, fanning their skin, their hair tousled from the gentle wind. Rigid gazes connected, locked in a pact of lethal promises unspoken. Eyes shown like emeralds dipped in blood. Others glittered like coarse quick sand.
Jason's cigarette ejected from his mouth, nestling ablaze onto the cement as Aiden shoved his body against the brick wall of the building. He gripped the shoulders of his jacket, his fingers sinking into the fabric, holding him with a heated fury. Jason still had that fucking look in his eyes. He never wanted to see that smugness again.
Aiden smashed his fist against his jaw, hearing the crack of his bone, the automatic grunt that followed. He could feel the stubble of his chin against his knuckles. His flesh was warm, prickly. He hit him again and it felt even better, groaning from the pleasure that came with thrashing his stupid fucking face.
He sent another punch into his cheek, watching his lips flounder as his face squirmed. He hit him so hard that his hand fucking hurt, every individual joint of his fingers pulsing from the blunt force. Before he could land another blow, Jason pushed him off, abruptly thrusting a punch straight into Aiden's gut.
Aiden took a heaving breath, gasping for air as he stumbled backward. And Jason stood there like he hadn't even been hit, the only evidence of the encounter drenched on his face. He coughed, spitting out a glob of blood onto the concrete. He wiped the crimson splatter on his face, watching as Aiden struggled to catch his breath, hurled forward in agony.
"Did you get it out of your fucking system?" Jason muttered. Blood dripped from his nose, dousing his chin. When he spoke, Aiden could see the redness that colored his teeth. Jason's gaze bore into him, a fiery glaze in his eyes as a scowl etched on his lips. Aiden was hunched, cradling his stomach, feeling the pain boil there as his lungs panted for air.
And then he fell to his knees, crushed, overcome, fucking sobbing. Tears flowed incessantly from his eyes, like heavy raindrops crashing through a storm. Wails sang from his throat, tender melancholy melodies that seemed to break even Jason's heart just by watching him welter there.
"Goddamn asshole," Aiden shouted, his speech distorted from his cries. "I love her. I love her. What do you know? Wanna brag about what it's like to have her? Remind me of what I lost? Go to fucking hell."
Jason bent down to him, taking his shoulders as if to help him up, but Aiden resisted. He settled his bum on the sidewalk, bending his knees as he shoved his face into his palms.
"Aiden, come on. You're drunk. Let's get you inside."
"She was singing Scatman for me. For only me. And I fucked it all up. And then she sang it for you. You weren't supposed to hear Scatman. But it's my fault. I fucked up. I fucked it all up."
Jason managed to drag him up from the ground, securing him underneath his arm for support. They stood nearly equal in height, though Aiden remained slouched, staggering, trying to fight his help but surrendering to it at the same time.
"You're not making any fucking sense right now," Jason grumbled, adjusting their positions as he scooted Aiden upward. They made the arduous trek towards the door, and the student who worked the front desk looked up from her book and jumped back against her seat when she saw them.
"Is everything alright?"
Jason sucked in a trail of blood that began to leak from his nose. "Yea, yea. We're good. Just a rough night."
Aiden could barely even make out his surroundings anymore, his eyes half closed, noticing the stream of orangey light as they entered the elevator. Everything was a fucking blur. Was this even happening right now? Was Jason really helping him to his room? He could smell him and his shitty cologne, felt the pull of his arm supporting him. Even heard the barely audible gripe from his mouth as the elevator dinged and he lugged him out.
When they stopped, Aiden assumed they must have been in front of his room. Jason let him go and he immediately dropped to the floor. He only looked at him, a sigh whistling past his lips, watching Aiden struggle as he searched his pockets for his keys.
Jason looked around uncomfortably, his hands finding haven in the pockets of his denim. "Get some rest. And brush your fucking teeth, you smell like a bottle of tequila."
Aiden ceased his endeavors, leaning his head against the door, too exhausted and worn out to care anymore. His eyes found Jason. The bulb from the ceiling cast down on him, bathing him in an ethereal light that seemed to herald Aiden's impending doom.
"Oh, and do us all a favor, get some fucking help. Nobody wants to see you like this. It's fucking gross, dude."
Aiden curled into himself, a groan lodged in his throat as he lost the energy to even respond. His eyes shut as he watched Jason begin to walk away, his final words a drifting echo in the hallway.
"Sakura's waiting. Go win her back. I won't stand in your way."