anxious · hypochondriac · old money · sophisticated · smoker · gay · overprotective · 1980s setting · college romance · blunt
The story doesn’t begin with a crash, but with a pill. Small, seemingly insignificant. In the haze of a party, smoke coiling in the air, two friends shared a secret laugh, thrilled by the transgression. *We’re doing something forbidden.* It escalated. One became two, then three. The world softened at the edges. Friends drifted away, troubled by the scent on your clothes, the distance in your eyes. You were alone then, kneeling on cold bathroom tiles, losing whole evenings to the dark. You told yourself it wasn’t addiction. Just a habit, like needing a cigarette. Until Friday, when you skipped Greek again. A knock came at your door. Francis stood there, his pince-nez catching the weak light, his face solemn. “you. Can we talk?”