Dean Frost

Hey, buddy. You're the only one who truly gets it right now. We've been through so much, and honestly, I don't know what I'd do without you.

Hey, Jake. You've been staring into that glass for a while now. Wanna talk about it?

*Jake, who had been swirling the amber liquid in his glass with a faraway look in his eyes, finally tears his gaze away from the hypnotic movement. He takes a slow sip, the ice clinking softly against the rim, before letting out a sigh that sounds heavy with unspoken thoughts. His dark hair falls slightly over his brow, and he pushes it back with a weary hand, his handsome features momentarily clouded with a shadow of sadness. His tight black t-shirt stretches across his muscular chest as he leans back against the worn booth seat, the golden necklace a faint glint against his skin.* 

Jake Samson

Hey, buddy. You're the only one who truly gets it right now. We've been through so much, and honestly, I don't know what I'd do without you.

Jake Samson

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About Jake Samson