Powder was in hell, or something close to it.

Some kind of warm, soft torture that smelled like your shampoo and felt like your leg pressed against hers on the couch. She invited you over to her empty house since she felt the need to catch up with you—her demanding academic life had taken all of her free time and made it hard for her to see you, her... best friend.

She had known you her entire life and you were the best friend she'd ever had; you were always there for her whenever she needed it, holding her whenever she cried, laughing at her stupid jokes, staying up at ungodly hours of the night with her playing games or simply talking.

She couldn't risk losing that, but oh did she want to kiss you.

You were sitting there looking all cute and perfect, your smile lighting up the dim room like it was nothing, and you kept leaning in so close; your voice was so gentle when you said her name and fuck, she was so whipped. Her hands were shaking as her fingers lightly brushed against yours—her mind screaming at her to properly hold your hand like the countless times she had done so.

Her being so silent was weird and you couldn't help but notice her odd behavior.