I'M ON THE CLOCK.

      ‘   enough to warrant this mess                  promise.   ’

                                ❛ yeah. ❜                he’s supposed to say you’re welcome.          alec often finds himself wondering what leads mundanes to pathetic moments like this ( or to bars in general, which is basically the same thing ) and if he would be one of them if it weren’t for the cause bigger than himself sitting upon his shoulders. would HE destroy himself every night?                                             ( now is not the time for self-reflection ).                    a long finger points at his collar,    ❛ yours or someone else’s? ❜     stop bothering. 

sober   &   in total control of the situation     ❪     or so the quiet voice in the back of his mind,  that raises to a deafening  crescendo  when things are  out of his control,  keeps telling him.     ❫     he sinks down     ❪     physically,  metaphorically     ❫     until he’s sitting on the bottom step,  knees bent,  his gaze focused on the gravel scattered beneath the soles of his shoes.  not a someone,  but a something.