Chapter 383 Boyfriend V

383 Boyfriend V

Jason stormed out of the doors of the Veltman Lounge with a bottle of alcohol in his hand.

On setting his eyes on someone who was his teammate, roommate, and someone he had regarded as a close person though not quite his friend... going behind his back to have rodeos with the girl he was quite literally his girlfriend, Jason felt his blood rush to his head and cloud his judgement.

He had instinctively reached out and grabbed a bottle of alcohol that was still full and wanted to hurl it at Mylo and then pick up the shattered remains of the glass and use it to carve out millions of symbols of hate on Mylo.

These were some of the mildest thoughts that had appeared in Jason's head that moment, but he had suddenly heard a groan behind him and he had glanced behind him to see Sofia being roused from her alcohol-induced slumber.

Jason's anger didn't dissipate and burned even brighter, but he managed to regain control of his body movements even though his brain and heart was heating up.

That short moment was enough for him to think about the repercussion of smashing a bottle on Mylo's head.

He could already see the headlines as well as the sanctions that would be stuffed down his throat just because he rightfully gave in to his anger.

As much as it annoyed him to think about, he knew it was true.

The club management wouldn't care about the cause of the fight, but would only care about the fact that it would give them bad publicity while the media didn't care either and would print and post whatever they could to get clicks and views from as many people as possible.

While it wasn't something that would end his career, it would definitely deal a severe blow to his reputation.

'It's not worth it,' the last bit of rationality that he was managing to cling on to whispered in his head, but it was immediately threatened by Mylo opening his stupid mouth.

"Don't do it kid," the voice came again and Jason's eyes once again moved, and this time he finally saw the person who owned the voice.

The man looked like what Americans would call a 'hobo' which meant a homeless person, and he held a bottle in his left hand which was quite ironic.

"Don't do it kid," the man repeated once more.

"I can see it in your eyes, you look hurt," the man continued speaking, surprising Jason because he did not think someone could easily read him like that, especially when the said person looked like he was one sip from passing out.

"Looking at your clothes and your car, you seem to be doing well for yourself, so it's probably a female problem," the hobo continued, making his voice a bit dramatic as he tried to sound like a private detective from old Hollywood movies.

"Another skank has torn apart the heart of a good kid, and with your face, it is better you heal quick," Jason just stared at the hobo as he kept talking, his mind not responsive enough to stop listening at the moment.

The hobo's words were slurred and he paused constantly between sentences, but his words seemed to make sense to Jason for some weird reason and he couldn't stop listening.

"I get it kid... you're hurt... but the solace you neED... wouldn't be found in a BOttle,"

"A bottle doesn't solve problems, it can only contain them... and that too for a limited time,"

"And with alcohol that weak, the pain will be back tomorrow morning with a splitting hangover,"

Jason just kept listening thinking how ironic it was for a guy holding a bottle of what seemed like cheap liquor and already dead drunk, advising him not to fall into a spiral of alcoholism.

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