✦ 𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦/𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢: Mild Sexual Content, AU, Jackson is 18. (Y/n) is in her mid-thirties. Her son is 17.
⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅
The first time something happens, it's late. Your son is asleep in his bed, completely exhausted from football tryouts. You're up with low music in the distance, incense filling your nose as Miss Erykah Badu's soft voice fills your ears, the contents of your wine glass sending a pleasant sting to the back of your throat.
In simplest terms, you were jaded.
For the past hour, you had been drowning in awful memories of your abusive ex-husband, all the awful things he would do and say to you when your son was away coming back in waves until you were reduced to tears.
So engulfed in your emotions, you didn't notice the Chinese male standing in your doorway until he cleared his throat, gaining your attention. You were quick to grab tissues and wipe your tears away, not wanting him to see you in such a way. But he didn't mind. He wouldn't ever mind. It was you, after all.
"Something's wrong."
It wasn't a question. He was telling you everything you knew to be true. Still, you tried to seem unbothered. "No," You sniffle, "Nothing's wrong. I'm fine," Then lie. "It's the incense."
He tries not to frown so deeply, opting for a simple press of his lips in a thin line. "That's a lie. Why don't you tell me what's bothering you?" His voice, it was so soft. As if you would disappear if he was too loud.
