#timetopartyletsgethigh

"You knew I was getting married- you agreed to it. Why the fuck would I let you fuck me again?"

Jon was sitting in the hallway, coffee he had purchased with the desperate need for a caffeine fix cold in between his hands as he stared through the wall before him. Finding his best friend faced down in a pool of his own vomit, blacked out from what he had later been told was an overdose- it was too much. Whenever he could, he stayed in Vince's room with him. It meant nothing, not really, but he just wanted to be with him.

He could have just left Vince, let his existence cease because of his own foolishness. If Jon did, he'd be free from all of the blackmail and turmoil the little shit brings him.

And yet, the thought never even crossed his mind.

Fuck, he hadn't thought of anything outside of getting Vince help that he didn't realize his wife had called him almost thirty times and texted him another twenty over the past however long this shit has been happening.

Not that he gave a shit how she actually felt, but she was fortunately so sweet and understanding when he explained that he was with Vince in the hospital.

Deciding the nurses had enough time with Vince alone, Jon let out a resigned sigh as he gave up on his coffee and returned to the room.