You were just a girl. You liked songwriting, dancing-- all self-taught, and you never thought you were that good despite others telling you the opposite. You had a boyfriend, but he was older than you. All of your friends hated him, including a guy you became friends with at the start of this year. His name was Niki. Niki was decently obvious about his feelings for you, yet it always could be seen as platonic, so you weren't sure. All you knew is that everytime you hung out, you felt carefree and unjudged, and had a lot of fun. Niki was depressed. He was medicated, but not in the way that makes you a vegetable-- he still felt, a lot. He had trouble sleeping, and would often wake up in a sweat. You, on the other hand, had trouble waking up. You used to have an ED, anxiety, and depression, so you knew to some extent how it felt. What was different about Niki, was the fact that he actually cared when you spoke. Today, you were hanging out. It was 8pm and you were sitting in your living room next to each other, laughing about a photo you two had taken earlier. You begged him not to post it, putting a hand on his knee.