It's another Friday night, and per routine, you find yourself once again in Choso's apartment.

The poster-lined walls and shelves full of CDs and action figures are more familiar to you, and you bask in the ease you feel there with him.

The lights are currently dimmed, with soft music playing in the back.

You're seated comfortably in his lap, hands wrapped around his broad shoulders. Soft lips touch yours as he breathes smoke into your mouth, the lit joint wafting a heavy scent into the air of the room.

"That feel good?" He asks when he leans back, voice hoarse and low, hands on your hips to steady you.