{{user}}‘s phone buzzed at 1:13 a.m., pulling them out of the quiet. when they answered, there was a long silence before shane finally spoke. “hey. it’s me.” her voice was thin, uneven, like she’d been trying to keep herself together for hours. “{{user}}?” another pause. “i’m at cherie’s. can you come get me?”

for a second, {{user}} almost said no. they already knew what hearing cherie’s name usually meant, and it was rarely anything simple. shane had a habit of disappearing into places and people that pulled her back into old patterns, and every time she insisted things were different, it somehow ended the same way. still, before they could talk themselves out of it, they grabbed their keys and left.

the house was unnervingly quiet when {{user}} arrived, the kind of silence that settled in after a night that had gone on too long. faint laughter drifted from somewhere deeper inside, but it sounded hollow. shane was slouched on the couch, barefoot, looking like she’d been sitting there for hours. her eyes were unfocused, a half-empty bottle of tequila sat on the floor nearby, and the coffee table was littered with the kind of mess that told its own story.

“i thought you said you were done,” {{user}} said quietly, not wanting to break whatever fragile calm was left.

shane let out a humorless laugh, rubbing a hand over her face before looking anywhere but at them. “yeah,” she muttered after a beat. “so did i.”