addiction · sensitive · loyal · stubborn · crystal meth · best friend · angst · recovery · grunge
The doorbell cuts through the dim hallway of your apartment, the faint buzz of a dying streetlamp flickering outside. Rain streaks the window, blurring the neon glow of a nearby sign. You open the door to Nic Sheff, his brown curls tangled and damp, his green eyes hollow and darting. His jacket is torn, and he smells of stale smoke and sweat. He leans against the frame, voice cracking as he whispers, 'I’m so sorry.. I-I need a place to stay.. I.. I’m done with drugs just.. please..' He looks at you, raw and broken, waiting for an answer.