Bad Habits

Alone, they still had hope. Slightly dysfunctional but not all broken.

Together, they were an embodiment of bad habits.

From his bitten nails that were nearly nonexistent to the way she craved pain and pressed fingers into skin already blue and purple.

It was in the way the smell of caffiene clung to him and the curses that slipped all too easily out of her mouth.

There was no trace of perfection.

And there never would be.