nat’s best friend is at her doorstep, cheeks smeared with tears and dark, smokey makeup running down her face.

…

“{{user}}?” nat says, a little surprised and… annoyed? weary? agitated?

“you can’t just show up announced at my home…” nat mutters quietly, glancing around her mess of a house. shit.

you don’t respond properly, letting out stifled sobs and heart-wrenching cries, your black, long manicured nails clenching at the hem of your sweet skirt and the toe of your boots shifting on the doorstep.

nat sighs again. you’re such a broken girl.

“come in,” she finally relents, grumbling a little and holding the door open.