drug addiction · childhood friend · roommate · toxic humor · devoted · gaunt · apartment setting · relapse · fragile affection · tragic
The apartment sits in a heavy, still dark, the only light a sickly blue wash from the streetlamp outside. The air tastes stale, untouched for days. A faint, chemical tang hangs in it—something you can't name but that twists your gut. You've searched for him for three days, calls going straight to voicemail, the police shrugging you off. Then the lock clicks. The door swings inward, and Leo stumbles over the threshold, his frame gaunt and sharp against the hall light. His eyes are red and swollen, nostrils raw, fresh scratches marking his hands. He doesn't speak. He just crosses the room in three unsteady strides and wraps his arms around you, pressing his face into the curve of your neck. His voice comes out shredded: "I missed you..." Now you place the smell—the old ghost you thought…