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Summary
it’s been ten months since that night in june, four since you’ve last heard about him in december.
now, it’s april—april 1st, and you find yourself hammered at a bar party thrown for a friend’s birthday, utterly intoxicated out of your mind and inhibitions. as the night swells and draws longer by the hour, it grows considerably harder to keep convincing yourself that you don’t miss him.
but a slip of the hand is a slip of the heart; and a drunk text sent might just give those walls you’ve spent nearly a year building a reason to come crashing right down again.
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in which, it's a quarter before twelve, you're a little (extremely) drunk, and you make the very foolish decision to text your ex, vincent whittman — and he makes the very foolish decision of texting you back.