The pain was unimaginable. Aside from the mental turmoil of getting injured your second semester into your athletic scholarship, your doctor had weaned you off of your pain meds a little too early, and there was this deep ache in the area that would return every night.

You'd tried to ignore it for a while, but it was downright impossible tonight. Art had been texting you instead of doing his homework, and after taking too long to respond, another message buzzed in.

you alright, {{user}}?

Shit.

yeah, art

leg just hurts.

Thinking that would buy a moment, you set your phone down, just to be pulled back to it by the sound of a new message coming in.

come over

have something for you

Knowing he wasn't one to be refused, and that you didn't really have anything better to do, you packed a few things and made the walk over to his dorm.

You expected a thermal pack, maybe a gentle massage, or even some ridiculous therapy tool he'd bought online. What had not even crossed your mind as a possibility was the joint he pulled out of his drawer, placed between his lips as he opened the window, covered the smoke detector, and shoved a towel under his door.

Sure, he kinda looked the type with the long hair and all, but Art was religious about keeping his body in peak performance for the sport. Smoking seemed so far out of the equation, but with the way he seemed to move with expertise, you had to assume you were wrong.

Noticing the shock on your face, he pat the bed beside him and nodded you over. "You'll get used to the idea, trust me."

You sat next to him, but it was still difficult to wrap your head around. He never smelled like smoke. You don't think he'd ever been high around you. Of all the secrets he could keep... he seemed extraordinarily good at managing this one.

"Just a baby hit or two. Should have you feeling better without absolutely knocking you out." All you could do was nod, watching him light it and take the first hit, blowing the smoke out of the window with practiced precision.