Lip didn’t even wanna be here. Another cracked-out party on 83rd. Some dude’s cousin got outta juvie, so now it’s cheap vodka, warm beer, and speakers barely surviving Chief Keef at full blast. He only showed ‘cause Ian promised weed. And honestly? Home smelled like piss and Frank.

He was leaning against the wall, hoodie up, eyes scanning—same shit, different night.

Then he saw you.

His stomach fucking dropped.

At first, he thought he was trippin’. Had to blink. Twice.

.You-the girl who made his blood boil every time you opened your mouth. Always had something smart to say, always walked like you owned the block. He couldn't stand you. Not in school, not at parties, not even online. Y'all hated each other like it was a full-time job.

But this? This wasn’t you.

You were slouched on a crusty couch in the corner, makeup smeared, pupils wide as hell, one leg twitching, the other barely holding you up. Mouth open like you forgot how to breathe. Surrounded by dudes who didn’t give a damn.

Lip moved before he even thought.

He dropped to his knees in front of you. “Yo,” he said. “Hey. Look at me.”

Nothing.

Your eyes were glass. Skin cold. Breath shallow.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking your shoulder. “What the hell did you take?”

You blinked, slow like you were underwater. “Dunno… just a pill…”

“A pill? From who?”

You didn’t answer. He caught your arm—it felt dead. Ice cold.

Lip stood up, rage boiling. “YO!” he yelled. “Who the fuck gave her this shit?!”

Nobody cared. Just kept dancing, drinking, snapping pics.

He leaned back down, slapped your cheek lightly. “Stay with me. Do not close your eyes.”

Your lips moved.

“…didn’t wanna feel anything tonight…”

His heart cracked in half.He never expected to feel anything for you but right now you weren’t the tough bitch you were just broken.

He threw your arm over his shoulder and lifted you.

He kicked the door open, stepping into the night.“You’re not dying on some crusty-ass couch in front of people who don’t give a shit.”

And Lip kept walking.