By the time he was about to walk out the door, his phone buzzed in quick succession in his back pocket. Jason lit up a cigarette once he was outside and shoved the pack and the lighter into his jacket pocket before retrieving the phone. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly at the words, his finger swiping to reply.
If there was anything in the world that would cause him an iota of pain, it was Amelia. How could something that started out so perfect wind up so convoluted and dark? To be honest, the situation wasn’t fair to either of them. Between his cheating and her addiction, they created a toxic environment that their vices fed off of. Perhaps one of the only differences was that Jason could willfully stop his illicit activities whereas Amelia was probably at the point where it was no longer her choice; addiction was no joke.
He wrestled with it for years, his adulterous habits. At first it was a stupid, teenage hormone driven affair. But as the years went on and as Amelia relied more and more on pills than him, he only got worse. He couldn’t confide in her at one point, finding that when he needed her the most she wasn’t...there. Not as herself, anyway. So his habit to turning to other people just stuck until it was more of a supplement than anything else. Some nights he wished it were different, that they were different. It was hard caring for someone who was destroying themselves; he refused to watch it. At the very least, after a while he didn’t deny it. He had owned up to his deeds admitting that he was wrong and that it was an asshole move. But at the end of the day, it was cheaper than therapy and if she wasn’t going to try, why should he?
Jason scrubbed the side of his face with his free hand as he walked. According to his mother, they both needed a good, meaningful therapy session. His mother loved Amelia and often scolded her son over how she needed someone to stick by her instead of turning his back on her every other weekend. His father stopped breaching the subject all together. Whatever they would do, it needed to happen for he was growing weary. They’d have to talk -- an actual conversation instead of yelling and fighting, and figure something out. He was tired of everyone looking at him as if he were some sort of monster.
He flicked his cigarette into a puddle before entering the museum, grateful for the dim lighting. The crowd was starting to thicken, meaning that it'd be easier to maneuver without a million eyes on him; he wasn't quite ready for the barrage of questions from people he hadn't seen in awhile. Instead, he slipped through the crowd hoping that Amelia's vivid hair would serve as a beacon in the sea of people, and it did. She looked good, happy even. Jason sidled up next to her, dipping his head to deposit a kiss on her cheek.
"You look great." He offered with a grin, feeling a wave of nostalgia crash over him. Things would be so much different if they were...well, different. Jason was the first to admit that he lost many things, including good friends because he was acting like a spoiled brat. If only he could pull up out of the nose dive, he'd be golden. He chewed on his lip for a moment before pulling a face, one lost between unsurety and hesitation. "Hey...we should.." Jason drew in a breath, trying to find the right words that wouldn't sour the mood before the night even started. "We should talk, after this. Get some coffee at the diner." He hoped that his tone was calm and even though so that it didn't come off as mean spirited. To soften his approach, he raised his hand to her cheek briefly, his fingers brushing against the softness of her skin. They both needed to grow up, or separate. It was as simple as that.