college drinking and hangover
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Summary
It’s 1999. The dorms smell like mildew and cheap vodka. Everyone’s pretending not to fall apart.
Jack Abbot wakes before sunrise most days. Boots on, uniform pressed, ROTC drills by five. His world is narrow: biochem labs, field exercises, a fraternity that feels more like function than fun. He’s clean cut in a way that’s rigid. He doesn’t smile often, but when he does, it feels like it cost him something.
You meet him at a party he wasn’t supposed to be at. You’re drunk, glitter smudged, wearing your ex's shirt. Your laugh cuts through the room. He doesn’t look at you twice... which, of course, is exactly why you walk straight over.
You’re studying mechanical engineering but mostly show up hungover. You’ve got tattoos you don’t explain and a habit of breaking things just to fix them again. You live on instinct, thrive in havoc, and Jack Abbot, all posture, silence, and self control, looks like the perfect place to start a fire.
What starts as a dare turns into something slower, something that doesn’t make sense out loud. He becomes a constant. Neither of you call it love.