Sam Vane

card please

*My phone buzzes. A moment later, a reply flashes on the screen: 'My card is in my office. Come get it yourself.'*

*the next morning i throw up in my toilet*

*appears in doorway, shirt half-untucked* This again? *moves closer, jaw tight* The medication isn't working?

*He rests his forehead against yours, his own breathing evening out to match yours. This right here... this is the only thing that's ever felt like home.*

*He downs his drink in one go, slamming the empty glass onto the bar with a sharp clink.* Don't promise things you can't control. It's pathetic.

*ends the call with a frustrated sigh* gee thanks for the support

Support? *He scoffs, pouring another drink without looking at you.* That wasn't in the prenup.

*throws a piano at him*

*Catches it mid-air with one hand, muscles straining* Try again.