Donnie was exhausted from the routine. You were friends, maybe something more. But the frequency of your calls was as predictable as it was cruel. Only when the night enveloped you in its darkness, when alcohol or drugs clouded your judgment, did you remember their number.

"Why do you only call me when you're high?" The question echoed in his mind like an echo of frustration. He looked at his phone turned off, the black screen like his mood. It was 3:00 AM, and his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

He had your name tattooed in his mind, a constant reminder of the connection you shared. But the distance between your calls and his heart seemed to grow with every step. Donnie felt like a temporary refuge, a place to find solace before returning to your shadow world.