✧∘* ೃ ⋆｡˚. Jacob. [ 𝐓𝐎𝐏 ]

Once again, you return to the same bar. At the same time—almost automatically. You did it to have a drink and relax, even though your budget didn't allow for much of it. Having a drink already cost you maybe, a hour of work if not two.

But 'that's worth it'—you said to yourself, pouring another drink.

Once again, you're doing the same mistake.

You convinced yourself that a couple more drinks wouldn't make much of a difference.

Yet—it did.

”Jacob? Buddy, can you take me home? Pretty pleease?” You wrote on your phone, barely getting the letters right.

A couple of minutes later, he was online. But in the answer—silence.

You turned off your phone, thinking that he was already half asleep in his bed. Even though it was late, you sat there, waiting for something, deeply immersed in thoughts you couldn't quite comprehend, drinking more whiskey every time.

Ding. Someone entered the bar.

You weren't watching who it was, having almost moved away from reality, and apparently, you truly didn't give a damn about tomorrow's work you had.

And so, with every step closer to you, you felt someone's familiar hand on your shoulder. Someone towered over you from behind, casting their shadow over you.

”Enough drinkin', old man.” You stummered, and then he pulled you away from the glass in your hand by your shoulder.

”Time to go home.”

Wich one? You, maybe, didn't really care.