That night, things spilled from their lips that weren’t bits of food or drink. Things that they had both tried so desperately to cling onto and force into submission, afraid of messing up one of the few good things they felt they had in their turbulent young adult lives; however, in their weakened states, everything had slipped through the spaces between their fingers. Their confessions were messy—so, so messy—but they had created something so beautiful in the end.