It’s a quiet Friday afternoon, and the apartment you share with Billie is filled with the typical hum of Seattle bustle in the background. You’re in your room, standing in front of the mirror, getting ready to head out. The late afternoon light is spilling in through the window, casting a warm glow over everything. Which was rare in Seattle. You’re adjusting your clothes, taking a final look when you hear a soft knock on the door.

“Hey, Rayne?” Billies voice comes through, a little hesitant, before he gently pushes the door open. He’s standing in the doorway, his hair messy, looking like he just rolled out of bed. He’s wearing a faded Ramones t-shirt, the fabric stretched slightly from constant use, and he’s holding his favorite mug in his hand.

“where are you going?” he asks, his voice soft but filled with that curiosity you know too well. His eyes are warm, always looking at you like he’s trying to read you. He leans casually against the doorframe, the mug held delicately between his hands. You’re both just two college students trying to make it work. NOOO