Y/N/N- your nickname
JASON
As I lay in bed on the verge of falling asleep, the annoying buzzing of my phone wakes me up.
"Goddamn it." I curse while throwing the covers off of me and scrambling around in order to locate my phone.
Once I find it, I stare down at the bright screen and see a text from Jason, my best friend.
We've been best friends since my family and I moved to Rosewood when I was around 6 years old. The DiLaurentis' were our neighbors. Originally their plan and my parents plan were for Ali and I to become friends. But once I met her, I realized she was not the type of person I wanted to associate with. After many forced play dates and sleepovers, my parents finally gave up. Then, I began gravitating towards Jason, the reckless older brother. It took me a while to open up and trust him but once I did, we became inseparable.
Hey Y/N/N can u come over
Sure, give me like 5 min
With a deep sigh, I stand up from the comfort of my warm bed and pull on a pair of jeans and make my way over to Jason's house. The cold air of Rosewood nips at my cheeks leaving them with a rosy tint.
I arrive at his door and give it a course or knocks and soon enough Jason opens up.
"You called?" I ask with a false sense of drama surrounding the question.
He rolls his eyes and flashes me a sad smile which leads me to believe there is something wrong. I walk in and take a seat on his couch while he sits in the chair across from me.
For the next few minutes we just sit in a comfortable silence while Jason runs his hands through his now messy blonde hair. I've always been able to tell when something is wrong with him— whether it be from the tone of his voice or the look in his eyes.
"Jason.." I begin cautiously. He looks up and that's when I notice the stray tears that have fallen down his cheeks.
"She broke up with me." he states bluntly.
My heart hurts at his statement. His girlfriend, Tess, has broken up with him. They were only together for about a month but Jason feels everything. And he feels deeply. He's sensitive.
"She had every right to," he shrugs while sitting more upright on the chair. "Said it was my drinking— that it was too much. And it is."
His drinking is a problem. I remember when it started. I was a freshman in high school and he was a sophomore. He stumbled across his backyard to mine where I met him and attempted to hold him up while helping into my room. I don't know how my parents didn't hear us. I played some music in attempts to drown out the sound of him throwing up. After he had gotten most of the alcohol out of his system, he embraced me in a hug so tight I forgot why he was there. He sobbed into my shoulder and then I just held him for the rest of the night. Even after he fell asleep, I just held him. We never really discussed it again.
"You're drinking is a problem but you aren't a problem." I tell him. Sometimes he gets caught up in his own thoughts and believes he himself is the problem.
"I-I'm-" he starts but if cut off by his own voice which breaks slightly. "I'm alone." he cries.
My eyes widen slightly and I waste no time rushing over and squeezing next to him on the small couch while holding him, just like that night many years ago.
"You're okay. You're okay, Jason." I whisper into his ear in order to get him to calm down. "Everything's fine. I'm right here. You're okay."
After his cries die down slightly, I pull back and look him in his eyes which appear so broken. With a sad smile painted on my face, I take the sleeve of my shirt and wipe the remaining tears left on his cheeks.
