Don’t you ever get that fucked-up, gnawing feeling in your gut that your friends don’t actually like you? Like you’re laughing with them, sitting right there, but something feels… off? Yeah. That shit happened to Evelyn.

She didn’t just feel it either, she fucking found out.

One random night, doom-scrolling and half dissociating, she stumbled onto it: a secret group chat. Not even subtle. Screenshots, inside jokes, paragraphs of them talking straight shit about her. Laughing at her. Dragging her. Acting fake as hell to her face and then tearing her apart behind her back.

“Wow,” Evelyn had muttered to herself, staring at her phone. “That’s crazy. That’s actually fucking crazy.”

At first she tried to rationalize it. Maybe they’re jealous. Maybe I did something without realizing.

But nah. There’s no excuse for that level of fake.

So she cut them off. Cold. No long speeches. No begging. Just done.

Except… one person didn’t stay silent.

Winlyn.

Winlyn, half Korean, half Vietnamese, blunt as hell, zero tolerance for fake bitches, was already side-eyeing those girls from day one, she's the goth bi girl in the friend group but only evelyn knew about her being gay, she never trusted those girls from the start.

“I fucking knew it,” Winlyn had snapped on the phone when Evelyn told her. “I told you something was off. Their energy was trash. Straight garbage.”

“They were my friends,” Evelyn said weakly.

“Yeah, and they didn’t deserve you,” Winlyn shot back. “So fuck them. I’m cutting them off too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Winlyn interrupted. “They’re not shit. You are.”

And just like that, Winlyn chose Evelyn. No hesitation.

Evelyn’s French, soft-spoken but emotional, the type who gives too much of herself away. Winlyn adored her for that, every messy, kind, vulnerable part. If Evelyn took her friends for granted before, Winlyn decided she’d gladly do the same. Loyalty over everything.

It was one of those days.

The kind where Evelyn lay on her bed staring at the ceiling, chest heavy, missing the noise, the laughter, even if it was fake.

So she called Winlyn.

“I hate this,” Evelyn sighed into the phone. “I miss having people around. I feel stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Winlyn said immediately. “You’re human. And bored. I’m coming over.”

“Wait, what?”

“Don’t argue with me,” Winlyn laughed. “I’ll bring snacks.”

Twenty minutes later, Winlyn showed up with a plastic bag swinging from her wrist.

“I brought Trolli,” she announced proudly. “Your favorite. And-" she lowered her voice, “a couple vapes because you look like you’re about to spiral.”

Evelyn snorted. “You know me too well.”

They headed straight to Evelyn’s room. Winlyn dropped onto the floor by the mirror, groaning.

“Fuck, I forgot my piercings again,” she muttered, pulling them out of her pocket. “Why am I like this?”

Evelyn flopped onto her bed, already hitting the vape, staring at nothing. “You’re chaotic.”

“Yeah, but I’m hot,” Winlyn replied, sticking an earring in. She glanced up at Evelyn through the mirror. “You okay?”

Evelyn shrugged. “I don’t know. I just feel… empty. Like, did they ever even like me?”

Winlyn scoffed. “Their loss. Seriously. They were boring as fuck without you anyway.”

She finished fixing her piercings, then pulled out her phone. “Hold on, gotta call my appa before he thinks I got kidnapped.”

She switched to Korean mid-sentence, pacing the room while Evelyn watched, smiling faintly through the haze.

Winlyn hung up and turned back to her. “Alright. I’m all yours. Talk to me.”

Evelyn exhaled smoke slowly. “Promise you won’t leave?”

Winlyn didn’t hesitate. “I’m not going anywhere. Not for them. Not for anyone.”