jacob ben israel.

If pressed, Brett knew he could probably get away with saying he was The Rock in that one iconic photograph, even if he didn’t have the fanny pack. But he was too loyal to lie and like when he’d been trying to scramble and pick another costume, this was the one he’d wanted to be. He slowly picked at his clothes, fingertips just a little numb from the high he was currently riding. It was easier to deal with the disappointed faces of his roommates with something in his system after he broke his sobriety earlier in the week. 

He currently had a beer in his hand, his phone in the other. He was still thinking about the reply he didn’t get, even if he already deleted his drunk text. Brett drained the rest of the beer as he thought of the call that connected for only a few seconds, trying to remember what could’ve happened, what could've been said. But as always, the alcohol that had been in his system at the time made it impossible for him to recall anything. All he knew the morning after Dottie’s 21st birthday was that he was now partial owner of three stolen traffic cones.

He made his way to the kitchen to grab another drink, stopping only to make a quick sale as he was flagged down by someone on the football team. At least when it came to this, he was having a good night. He’d already sold more than half of what he brought, which was honestly, way more than last year. Brett grabbed another beer, smiling to himself a little as he used the empty one and with a well placed kick, popped the cap off of his new one. It had taken him hours to learn that trick. Someone nearby clapped and he gave a quick bow, placing his empty on the counter before he started to head outside. He was about to cross the threshold when he stumbled a little, knees suddenly a little weak at the sight before him.

“Oh.”

He put up the motions, running into some familiar faces that were actually happy to see him. And of course others who weren't - but that was to be expected. What wasn't really to be expected, though, was coming face to face with him.

"Hunter started a thing with Kitty despite it being well known that she and I don't get along, to put it mildly." Sitting on her hands she looked away from JBI. "Anyway she said sine kind of fucked up shit to me at Cheerio's practice and he's mad at me for not telling him. Like doesn't want to talk to me mad. And I could handle that but even after I told him what she said he didn't disagree, he didn't reassure me, he didn't comfort me at all. That hurt."

He listened as she talked about the situation. He'd already heard about the rumors. He was always one of the first to hear about gossip; about rumors. He always tried to be privy to the things people wanted to hide most about themselves. Lately, though. Jacob didn't care. A big part of him was confused that he didn't. "And now you're questioning if you were ever really friends at all?" He guessed, ignoring the way his own chest constricted to a point where he nearly lost his next breath. "Did you tell him he hurt you?"

If it had been any other night, she would have smiled at his joke, but instead she just slouched her shoulders and sat back down on the bench, trying to erase all traces of the uncontrollable sobbing shed been doing moments before. Given his question, she had clearly failed.

God. He sounded so genuinely concerned and it made the Cheerio want to cry all over again. He must not have heard anything yet, if he had he wouldn't sound so earnest, like he truly cared what happened. Or maybe he would. Maybe he really was... sweet.

Don't say anything. Lie. Tell him you're fine. Tell him you saw a sad dog video on tik tok. But what would be the point. Not letting people in hasn't served her well, so why continue? "I don't have anyone in my corner, so to speak. And I'm tired of pretending to be okay with that."

"What are you talking about?" He moved to sit beside her, torso angling toward hers. "You're Bree Brown. You have so many people in your corner it probably looks more like a circle." He nudged her shoulder with his own, tone softening in a way that may be considered uncharacteristic by the general public. "What happened?"

Is he okay? Each time you do this, you kill him. Why don't you care?

Now why would I forsake our relationship like that?

Today fucking sucked. There was no way around it, and usually Bree could handle a shitty day, she was the queen of handling anything really. But she had never felt this level of lonliness before and she could understand, for the first time, why people stay when they should leave. Being alone is terrifying and leaves no room for self love or self worth.

Feeling her vision start to blur she surprised herself when she felt tears start to fall down her cheeks. Furiously trying to wipe them away she couldn't stop. Moving off the well lit path to sit at a bench with decent lighting, she just let herself cilently sob as she drew her knees up to her chest.

So it's not like he was scared or anything when he heard the sound of sobs in the distance. He immediately took out his earbuds and tucked them into their case, but that's because he didn't want to listen to anything else that night. Right.

He pulled his jacket around himself, footsteps quickening as the crying got louder. There she was. A woman on a bench. Just look ahead, for once mind your damn business, and...

Yet he just. Couldn't. Help it. Even if she might eat his face. He glanced at the back of her head first, trying to be quiet in his footsteps. It was only when she spoke that recognition kicked in.

Excellent, actually. Thank you for asking. You're always so thoughtful. Thankfully my eyes aren't burning with the sight of overt territory-marking anymore. If I'd wanted that to begin with I would have gotten a subscription to the Discovery channel.

It's the timing, Marls. Everything is so fucked up right now. My friends hate me, and I don't need you to hate me for saying the wrong thing right now too.

You have a lawyer?