You and Clapton were hanging out in your bedroom, just as you had many times before.

You were listening to music, talking about random shit like always when you remembered what you’d stashed under your bed.

You and Clapton weren’t very rebellious. The most you’d done was snuck out a few times, but you wanted to try the real shit when you were with someone you were comfortable with.

“What’re you thinking about? You have that look on your face.” Clapton smirked, fixing his hair.