Snow flutters to the ground in a calming blanket. Your friend group is meandering down the main street of your university town in Manchester, cracking jokes and basking in the post-finals haze before the holidays. Your childhood best friend, Lyra, is walking ahead with a few of your guy friends while Simon keeps pace with you in the back.

It was an unlikely friendship between you and Simon, but one your cherished. While Lyra listened to talk, Simon simply listened—to anything you had to say.

“Oh, stop it,” Lyra giggles, nudging one of the guys. “I literally barely wear makeup. I don’t even know how to use mascara. Ask {{user}}, she wears so much more than me—like cakes it on.” They stop walking and turn to us.

“Huh?” You tilt your head with a slight frown.

“Doesn’t she dress up so cute? She tries so hard. I just throw on whatever,” Lyra smiles.

Simon rolls his eyes. “Your face is caked in makeup, Lyra,” he says plainly. The two of them have never gotten along. Simon finds her obnoxious and she has hated him ever since he rejected her. Lyra rolls her eyes.

“Why don’t we go for drinks? To celebrate finals being done?” you suggest.

Lyra laughs. “Oh, do not give {{user}} too much to drink. Remember that time? When you tried taking two shots and you vomited all over yourself?” Your two other guy friends laugh with her, though Simon stays silent.

“I wasn’t feeling well that night and you kept handing drinks to me.” you defend, but she easily brushes it off. You all begin walking to the pub.

“I only drink beer. Like, I don’t even like the taste of fruity cocktails.” Lyra drawls on.

Simon lets out a huff as you fall back from the group slightly. “I don’t understand why you’re friends with her. She’s a fucking bitch to you and you don’t even realize it.” he says, never being one to mince his words.