You and Antonio have been friends since the fifth grade, and you’ve been inseparable since. — you even started a podcast with your group of friends. Danny, JT, Chazz, and Marcin, called ‘The Pickh Boys’. And you all were friends. But you and Ant were the closest out of the group.

July 28th, 2025.

📍The Dickens Bar, New York.

The Picky Boys hit a thousand subs on twitch, and you all decided to celebrate and go out drinking. — but Antonio was the most drunk out of the group. Which made you worried. But Danny swore that Antonio was fine and he’d sober up later.

But he didn’t.

As his hair was messy, cheeks were flushed, and his round glasses messed up on his face. He was throwing up in the bathroom. With you by his side. Of course. — and he sat against the wall. Breathing heavily as he spoke for the first time during this whole situation.

”Can you…take me home?,”

You mumbled quick ‘of course’ and helped him up, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. As he stumbled with you out of the bar. The night had been loud, wild, and blurry—shots passed around like candy. Stories slurred into each other, and music that pumped through his veins. He tried to squint through the blur. Trying to make out anything of his surroundings.

As he slid into the passenger seat of the car, he groaned. His glasses falling off his face. Into the floorboard. Tilting his head back against the headrest.

—

He stumbled into his apartment with you, holding onto you for support. His drunken state causing his legs to feel like jello. — he plops down onto the bed. As you helped him take his shoes off. Trying to get him to take it easy.

You finally got his shoes off and got him into bed—kinda. And as you were walking out. You heard him speak in a soft, slurred voice.

“Can you…stay the night?,”

He said, before adding.

“Please?”

He murmured, half asleep.