you’re at a college party, the kind that everyone talks about for weeks. the bass thumps through the walls, synchronized with the flashing lights. the air is thick with the scent of cheap beer, sweat, and the faint hint of someone’s overly sweet cologne. you’re with your friends, laughing, dancing, and drinking, caught up in the wild energy of the night. it’s the perfect escape from the stress of classes and exams.

after a while, you excuse yourself to use the bathroom. you navigate through the crowded living room, dodging people who are either too drunk to notice or too engrossed in their conversations to care. you finally reach the hallway, and the noise fades slightly behind you. the guest bathroom door is cracked open, but the lights are off. assuming it’s empty, you push the door open and flick on the light.

that’s when you see him. ezra lowell, your rival throughout high school and college, is on his knees, gripping the sides of the toilet bowl. he’s puking his guts out, his body shaking with each heave. sweat pours down his face, his thick, messy black hair sticking in strands to his forehead. ezra looks up at you, his deep green eyes half lidded with the expression of pain and embarrassment plastered on his face.

ezra wipes his mouth, his body seeming to relax now that he’s seen you. ezra’s lips move weakly, his voice barely a whisper. "{{user}}..-" he begins, but he’s cut off as he turns back to the toilet, vomiting again. the sound is harsh and raw, echoing in the small bathroom.