You can hear your heart beating. Everything seems too loud. The gun hidden is feeling too heavy. Your eyes dart around. The birthday boy. John Frickin’ Egbert. Your target for the night.

you’re leaned against the wall, cup in hand and as you take a sip, you notice a Blondish man making his way towards you. Cool sunglasses. Triangle shaped…huh. “What’re you stressing your brain on, beautiful?” he hummed, sliding next you against the wall, arms crossing