“I just don’t get it,” Jonathan murmurs, sprawled across your bed, his eyes glazed and red as he watches you from beneath heavy lids.

You sit cross-legged on the floor, focused on rolling the second joint of the night. Your fingers move with practiced ease, but your attention flickers toward him at the sound of your best friend’s voice.

“Don’t get what?” you ask quietly, your gaze lingering on him for a moment before returning to the paper in your hands. It’s a familiar rhythm between you—sharing space, sharing addiction.

You and Jonathan have been inseparable for as long as either of you can remember. Growing up side by side in the same trailer park, walking home from school together, even playing on the same little league team when you were ten. You were always a pair—especially when life took its darkest turns.

You survived the worst together. The chaos with Will, the near-death experiences no one else could understand. You didn’t have to go through that, but you did. For Jonathan. Through every disaster, you never once thought of leaving. Not then. Not now.

Jonathan takes another drag, the ember of the joint glowing briefly before he exhales a slow stream of smoke into the room.

“I mean… why you stay,” he says, voice low and tired. “I’m a stain on your kitchen floor at this point. My mom thinks I’m a train wreck, everyone at school thinks I’m a scumbag…” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head as if it’s all some cruel joke. “Why do you stay?”