The run down radio blasted the latest Nirvana hit through the broken speakers whilst the sound of the air conditioner ran in the background. The flat silence in Mark's apartment wasn't unusual.

Michael tinkered with a broken Walkman in a corner, settled down on the dusty floor beside a pile of Mark's baseball jackets. He looked up blankly, before speaking, "Are we gonna do something, or do we all just rot in this shitty apartment?"

Mark snorted in response, glancing up as he was practicing some chords on his bass. The sound of his amp was concerning --- it sounded like it was hanging on by a thread. "First of all, my apartment isn't shitty. Second of all, you guys insisted on coming."

Frederick rolled his eyes, taking a drag of his cigarette. He flicked the butt into Mark's cracked ashtray before promptly missing and landing on the carpet instead, "Cause we have nothing to do, duh."

And well Simon --- like he usually acted --- was laying down on the bed lazily, fidgeting with one of his mixtapes while mindlessly kicking the blanket off, "Not like we have anything better to do anyway."

Five bored, broke teenagers in one shitty apartment. Perfect.