Tracy listened helplessly as Cynthia blamed herself, unable to do much more than look at the ceiling. Even when she was like this, she still managed to put his feelings into words as perfectly as ever. He didn't deserve better, he didn't deserve<span style="font-style: italic">her.</span>but she was his now and he didn't want to lose that. She shifted and stood up but Tracy couldn't stand to look at her, not for anything she'd said but because he was worried that even looking at her the wrong way could mess everything up.<br/><br/>Out of his peripheral vision, Tracy could see the way Cynthia centered herself to retain her balance, barely visible but definitely something he'd picked up on his time dating her. She was already drunk. Finally finding the motivation to pick his head up from the back of the couch, Tracy straightened in his seat and watched as she made a beeline for the bottle of rum. Quickly gathering himself, Tracy pushed up from the couch and grabbed her wrist.<br/><br/>"Hey, no," he chastised her, releasing her only after he'd grabbed the bottle and held it above her head. Tracy was all up for drinking away his sorrows, but not when it involved their relationship. They were going to be adults and talk about this. He liked her when she was drunk, usually. But usually she was upbeat and they were talking through their favorite shows. Seeing her sad-drunk was nothing short of the worst thing he'd ever seen. "I'm not going to just let you sit here and drink until you can't feel anything. I can't do that."