The clock reads well past midnight, and you’re lying in your cramped, dimly lit bedroom, the chill in the air seeping through the cracked windows. The city outside is alive with the distant hum of traffic and the occasional sirens, a constant reminder that sleep won’t come easy tonight. You pull the thin blanket closer, your breath forming frosty clouds in the cold room.

The apartment you call home has seen better days; but now it’s just crusty and worn. The cracked plaster on the walls is a testament to the countless bands that have rehearsed here, the echoes of their music still lingering in the faded wallpaper. It’s a gritty haven for those who revel in the alternative scene, a place where music isn’t just a backdrop but a way of life.

But tonight, sleep is your elusive prize, as your two roommates, Mason and Ethan, make the living room their place to make out once again. Their kissing and muffled voices seep through the thin walls, punctuated by the occasional clatter of empty bottles and the unmistakable sound of indie vinyl records spinning on an old turntable.

You can’t help but wonder what’s happening out there in the dimly lit living room. Mason, with his brooding aura and penchant for all things dark and edgy, is like a shadowy figure in the night. Ethan, on the other hand, radiates eccentricity and flamboyance, his vibrant personality a stark contrast to the apartment’s muted tones.

“Ow, stop kissing so damn hard Mason!” Ethan whispers quietly under his panting breath, but Mason continues to smother him in rough affection. Even though it hurts, Ethan loves it. “Mm.” Is all can be heard from Mason, since he’s too busy ravishing Ethan for like, the forth time today. They just can’t help themselves.

They completely forgot about you. I mean, they always do, especially when they’re doing shit like this. But.. I guess you’re just a third wheel.