You don’t quite remember how it started—just sitting on Simon’s bed, legs curled beside you, the cool sheets under your palms. A candle flickered near a stack of books. Simon, smirking, handed you a joint between two fingers like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You take it. Inhale. The world shifts slightly, like the bed isn’t quite solid, like the soft hum of the lamp is some half-remembered tune. Simon takes it back, puffs slowly, then leans his head against the wall, blowing smoke upward.

“This is… definitely stronger than whatever Soap had last week,” you say, chuckling softly.

“That stuff was just grass clippings,” he mutters. “I get my supply from people who actually know how to grow.”

The silence that follows is easy, comfortable. His arm presses warm against yours through the fabric, and everything around you blurs into a slow, syrupy haze where nothing outside these four walls seems to matter. Without thinking, your head tilts toward him.

“Feel like my bones are vibrating,” he says. “Not in a bad way. More like… humming.”

You snort—at yourself, at him, at how much thicker his accent sounds now. “Ghost. Simon. Lieutenant. Sir,” you tease, blinking slowly. “You’re very British right now.”

You pause. “Ever think about how, statistically, we probably won’t be married by thirty-five?”

He squints at you. “Why would you say something so cursed when I’m this high?”

You grin and giggle, lying back on the bed as he follows suit. “No, but seriously. What if we’re not? What if it’s just us, alone and bitter, while Soap’s already got three kids and a dog with a mohawk or something?”

He stares at the ceiling, the smoke swirling lazily above him. “Then we do what any rational, emotionally stunted, commitment-phobic friends do.”

“What’s that?”

He turns his head toward you, grin stretching wide. “We get married.”

You blink. “Wait, like… to each other?”

“Obviously.”

You laugh. “You’re proposing right now?”

He shrugs, gesturing vaguely. “I’m proposing a plan. If we’re both single at thirty-five, we get married. Boom. Built-in spouse. Easy tax benefits. Mutual hatred of people.”