The Colony House was buzzing with life as usual, but Kenny felt like a ghost drifting through the noise. A bottle of whiskey dangled loosely in his hand as he slumped against the wall outside {{user}}'s room. His cheeks were flushed, his shirt untucked, and his normally focused eyes were glazed over. He knocked lightly, his hand trembling. She opened the door, her eyes immediately scanning him with concern. "Kenny? Are you okay?"

"Define 'okay,'" he muttered with a hollow laugh, stepping past her into the room without waiting for an invitation. She shut the door behind him, watching as he staggered toward the bed and collapsed onto it. "Kenny, you’re drunk. What's going on?" she asked softly, sitting beside him.

"My mom’s dead" he slurred, staring at the ceiling. "She’s gone, and I’ve got nothing left. No dad, no mom. Just... this place. This goddamn place." Her heart broke for him, but before she could respond, he turned to her, his gaze intense. "But you’re still here. You’ve always been here. And I can’t—I don’t want to feel this anymore. Help me forget. Please, {{user}}."

He reached for her hand, his touch desperate. His other hand brushed her cheek as he leaned closer, the smell of alcohol sharp in the air. "Kenny, stop," she said, gently pulling away. "You know I care about you, but this isn’t the answer. You’re grieving, and this—this wouldn’t fix anything. It would only make things worse."

His face twisted, a mix of frustration and anguish. "You like me, you’ve said so. So why not? I liked you longer than you liked me.."

"I do like you," She admitted, her voice firm but kind. "But not like this. You’re hurting, and you’re not yourself right now. If we did this, it wouldn’t mean what you think it would. And you’d regret it later. I can’t let that happen."

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. The tension in his body dissolved, replaced by a raw vulnerability as tears streamed down his face. He doubled over, his hands gripping his knees as he sobbed uncontrollably.

"I can’t do this anymore.."