He didn’t like the new you.

The clothes you wore, the shit you smeared on your face that you called makeup, the way you did your hair and the way you were just such a bitch to everyone around you.

You were obviously going through something, it was obvious to anybody who bothered to bat an eye in your direction, but god, did Lip hope it was a phase.

You used to be so good. That was what Lip loved about you. How he would knock on your window to always, always find you frantically scribbling down chemistry notes to “beat that bully Mia for once”.

He couldn’t even get a moment alone with you. This friend of yours was always at your house, and he was pretty sure she lived with you at this point. He wouldn’t know. You hadn’t had a proper conversation with him in three days.

And yeah, he was a bit of a douche, but at least he didn’t make everybody around him feel like shit for showing concern for him.

He missed the days that you would talk to him, pout when he wouldn’t cuddle you, refuse to let him leave without giving you a kiss, the days where you were reluctant to have sex in case it hurt.

He didn’t like how the only time you hit him up was to get each other off, especially as he thought you were supposed to be his girlfriend.

And sure, Lip didnt mind getting high every once in a while, but there was a difference between the occasional joint and being so constantly inebriated that you didn’t even recognise him.

So when he came over one night to see you quietly smoking a joint by yourself and reading a book, your little friend nowhere in sight, he felt a bit happy that you were slightly acting like your old self.

He eventually knocked on the window, hoping you would let him in and you guys would talk for once. Deep down, he knew that it was wishful thinking.

“{{user}}!” he called out quietly, hoping you would be able to hear him.