#c. isla

he didn’t know why he was showing up at isla’s door. he couldn’t even really remember how he’d gotten there, what events had lead up to the bloody nose and the sunken shoulders that waited outside. he’d been waiting to knock, knew he shouldn’t have showed up at her apartment in the first place but it had been the closest location he could remember with the alcohol swirling around in his head. “hey, i just need like an ice pack or something,” jack called from behind the closed door. @isla-dubois