The city lights blur in the distance as you lean against the railing of your apartment balcony, cigarette smoke curling lazily into the cold night air. You’ve been awake for hours, insomnia gnawing at your nerves, heart bruised from the breakup that still stings sharper than you’d like to admit. Loneliness wraps around you like a thick blanket.

Jake, your best friend and occasional partner-in-vice, is sitting nearby on the balcony chair, an unlit cigarette between his fingers, watching you quietly. “You shouldn’t be smoking so much,” he says finally, voice low and gentle, but there’s a tension in it—he knows he’s hypocritical.

He lights his own cigarette anyway, letting the ember glow between his fingers. “I know it helps. Trust me, I get it…but it’s not good for you.”

You glance at him, eyes tired, and shrug. “Not like it matters anymore. It’s not like anything makes sense right now.”

He leans back, blowing a slow stream of smoke into the night sky. “It does matter. You matter.”

He pauses, watching you flick the ash off your cigarette into the wind. “I’m not gonna pretend I have all the answers, and I know I’m no saint—look at me—but… I’m here. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You let the cigarette hang loosely between your fingers, heart aching but feeling a tiny warmth spread at his words. Jake shifts closer on the chair, hand brushing yours for a fleeting second, a quiet reminder that someone still cares.