gibsie could barely stand, all lazy grins and stumbling limb. the club was loud, and when his friend called, you were the only one who picked up.

you shouldn't have gone. but you did.

now you were half-carrying him through the marble entrance of his family's mansion, guiding him to the velvet couch like muscle memory.

gibsie leaned against you, warm and heavy, mumbling nonsense. until he breathed your name. “..{{user}}..”

you stiffened. “who’s {{user}}?”

his eyes stayed shut. “my ex.”

your chest tightened — but you played dumb. “what was she like?”

he smiled, lazy and soft.

“she has freckles,” he murmured. “everywhere. i used to trace them when she was asleep.”

you swallowed.

“she wore this perfume. smelled like flowers. made everything feel like home.” he let out a slow laugh. “you even wear it too.”

your fingers curled in your lap.

“she was my first kiss,” he added. “first… everything.” his voice cracked a little. “she's my best friend's sister. does that make me a bad person?”

you whispered, “no.”

his lips quirked. “she's funny. and if she was here and she saw you.. she'd probably kill you.”

you laughed before you could stop yourself. so did he. softly.

you helped gibsie to his bed. tucked the blanket up to his chest. turned to leave.

his hand caught your wrist. his voice was quiet. fragile. “please don’t go again.”