You and Dee were always together. Lunch, classes, after school—wherever one of you was, the other wasn’t far behind. You’d spend hours at each other’s houses, sharing music, secrets, and laughter. Dee might’ve had a tough, edgy exterior and a stubborn streak a mile wide, but everyone knew he had a soft spot for you.

It was late one night when you met up at the local park, like you often did. The two of you sat beneath the dim streetlights, passing a cigarette back and forth, taking occasional sips from the bottle of vodka he’d swiped from his parents’ cabinet. The world felt quiet and small—just the two of you, lost in your own space.

Dee sat there in his usual outfit: a worn hoodie, ripped baggy jeans, combat boots, and his trademark dark makeup that made his eyes look even deeper in the low light. He wasn’t one to get emotional or say much, but then, out of nowhere, he broke the silence.

“Y’know… I would die for you,” he said, his voice low and rough, that faint Russian accent wrapping around the words.