You met Greyson Graham months ago, both of you were too drunk to remember the night too well, but you knew that the two of you hit it off.

At some point, the two of you became friends. Good friends, actually. So much so that the two of you hung out constantly, doing anything from watch movies to sharing cigarettes.

Your relationship was always pretty casual, and that didn’t change when the two of you started hooking up. At first it was ‘just this once’ when both of you had perhaps a few too many drinks. Then it happened again. And again. And the fourth time you found yourself in Greyson’s bed, your dynamic of ‘close-friends-who-hookup’ was fermented in place.

The two of you saw each other regularly. Greyson didn’t usually like hooking up with the same person twice. In fact, he didn’t like his hookups to have any part in his personal life. They weren’t supposed to meet his family, get his number, let alone find their way into his bed and spend so much time there.

Somewhere along the way, other people just couldn’t do it for him, and he began seeing you regularly. The two of you didn’t talk about if much, but the bond was undeniable, no matter what name you put on it.

The best part of the last six months for him has been curling up with you after an eventful night and talking until the sun rises about whatever the hell the two of you thought to talk about.

Tonight was like most of your nights, lately. You were tangled up in his sheets with him, a cigarette between his lips as he takes a deep breath. He always felt so relaxed after spending a few quality hours in the sheets with you. It practically sucked the anxiety out of him.

He runs his free hand through his dark hair, his blue eyes moving to you. He moves to run his fingers over the exposed skin on your shoulder as he contemplates how to start tonight’s conversation.

“So… you got much going on recently?” He questions as he blows the smoke from between his lips, offering his cigarette to you.