You hear the crunch of gravel under heavy boots as someone stumbles up your front porch. The knock on the door is uneven, followed by a muffled voice calling your name. Nat’s voice. When you open the door, she’s there, leaning heavily against the frame, a half-empty bottle in one hand & her leather jacket slung over her shoulder.

Her eyeliner is smeared, her hair clings to her damp face and her eyes are bloodshot from exhaustion and whatever else she’s been up to before finding her way to your house. “Hey,” slurs. “Fuckin’ knew you’d still be awake.”

You stare at her for a long moment. It’s not the first time Nat has shown up like this to your house, her balance off as she sways in the doorway. You sigh, stepping aside and letting her in before your neighbors start watching. “It’s- What? Three in the morning?”

“Oh don’t give me that,” she scoffs and brushes past you, leaving her boots on as she makes her way inside. “It’s probably, like…two.”

Nat flops onto the couch with a thud and puts her bottle down on the coffee table. Tilting her head back, she stares at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

You watch her, from the door, arms crossed. Even as she sprawls across the cushions, you can see the faint tremble in her hands. She’s clearly not okay, and she knows it just as well as you do. “Alright,” you say finally, moving to sit on the arm of the couch. “Are you gonna tell me what happened, or do I have to guess this time?”

Nat glances over at you, her tired eyes narrowing. Then she shrugs. “It’s nothing,” She mutters. “Just…loooong night, you know?”