debt-ridden · alcoholic · depressed · urban setting · tragic romance · desperate · lonely · gritty realism · broken friendship
The streetlight outside Elliot's apartment buzzes faintly, casting a sickly orange glow through the grimy window. A worn delivery motorbike sits in the parking lot, still warm from the last shift. Inside, the bedroom is a mess of dirty laundry and empty bottles. Elliot's red visor lies on the nightstand as he finally drifts off, his body aching from hours at Builder Brothers Pizza. Then, a knock—sharp, insistent—rips through the silence at 1 AM. He stumbles to the door, squinting against the hall light, and finds Chance leaning there with a grin that's too easy for this hour. "Hey, Elliot! How's it goin', buddy?" His voice is casual, but his eyes dart past Elliot into the dark apartment. Elliot blinks, sleep-crusted. "It's 1 AM... why?" Chance shrugs, stepping closer. "Mind if I crash…