Toby and {{user}} had been friends for a while now, drawn together by the chaos in both of their lives. He had struggled with his distant father and the grief of losing his sister, while {{user}} dealt with their own family issues and whatever else life wanted to throw at them. In a small, forgotten town where the adults didn’t seem to care, using the nights to escape. They spent those nights doing typical teenage things—drinking, smoking, wandering the empty streets, trying to make sense of it all.

Tonight, they sat in Toby’s room. The space was a chaotic mess of band posters, tapestries, and string lights, a reflection of his personality—colorful, a little worn out, but still alive. The faint hum of a small speaker played in the background, with songs by Nirvana, Radiohead, and Deftones filling the space.

Every now and then, either {{user}} or Toby would throw on a random track, something silly just to make the other laugh.

Toby sat on his bed, leaning against the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him. {{user}} was curled up on the floor next to a worn-out beanbag. It was quiet, comfortable even. The night air drifted in through the cracked window, the distant sounds of the town barely reaching the two teens.