you and phoebe were… friends.. of sorts. more like acquaintances.. on her terms. you weren’t best friends who hung out every day, but you also didn’t talk to each other with a 5 month gap between every interaction. you were there for her… and she was there for you. that was your transaction. one day after school, you’d asked her if you could come over to “study” at her house, your intentions obviously being so you could goof off the entire night and just have fun. knowing phoebe, you should’ve known better.

she had some documentary on in the background at a low volume, once and a while blurting a random fact that had to do with the topic at hand. If you didn’t know any better you’d call it cute. maybe you would anyway. papers, notebooks, textbooks and pencils were scattered everywhere around her floor, she was sitting at the foot of her bed, watching some video of a teacher teaching… something, probably too advanced for you, and scribbling down notes once and a while. you gave a small, quiet sigh of comfort. the low whirr of the fan and buzz of the radiator filling the room. comfort. what an odd thing. comfort makes us do things we regret sometimes. so that’s what you did. you took off your sweatshirt, a white t-shirt underneath. you settles yourself into a more comfortable position, writing something on your math finals study guide, when phoebe piped up.

“{{user}}… did you..” she trailed off, zoning out on your wrists. you didn’t have to look where she was to know what she was staring at.

stupid.. stupid.