& matchboxheart.
was it blissful ? or downright a miserable attempt to soothe the hunger that came with 3 random shots of whatever that was forced down his throat, & half a bottle of smirnoff he deliberately swallowed down because a ) he's out, he might as well get drunk. b ) he has too much shit to deal with outside this bar. & c ) he's living his goddamn life. even if said goddamn life was nothing more than poor choices, & a crippling fear of pressure. but that's exactly why the clear cut glass was dangling between his fingertips, a reminder that even the most disgusting liquor could taste good if one only chugged enough from it.
it doesn't take him long before he's sitting in a bathroom stall that faintly reeked of vomit & even more poor life choices jackson had ever made. his heart is set into a competition with the world, a bitterness he inherited with his first breath. & so the dare that was bestowed upon him would be fulfilled. it's a matter of pride, after all. so he eyes the pale bathroom door with hazy eyes, sockets trying to nurse the dullness as he concentrated. but it's color that eventually wins him over. a red shaped kiss that undoubtedly touched the bathroom door. grimacing at the thought of it, he dials the number slowly. a lulling experience as he hoped for the best.
