Boris and {{user}} had been best friends for almost a year.

Since the day they met, they’d barely spent a moment apart — practically living together, because neither of their parents cared enough to stop them.

Tonight was one of those rare evenings when {{user}}’s father and his new girlfriend weren’t home. The apartment smelled of smoke and cheap alcohol.

The TV blared in the background while Boris sat cross-legged on the floor beside {{user}}, laughing at his own nonsense until they were both breathless.

They shared their last cigarette, fingers brushing as they passed it back and forth.

A song played — slow, distant — and somehow, everything felt different. The cigarette burned out as {{user}} rested her head on Boris’s shoulder.

They looked at each other.

Locked eyes.

And before {{user}} could think, Boris’s lips were on hers — soft, warm, tasting of smoke and vodka.