You and the whole group are at a rave on a beach in Cornwall. For fresh air, you decide to walk away from the rave: the atmosphere was just too much.

As you walk towards the rocks, you see Dean, he is sitting in the corner with his head buried in his legs: his arms pushing him down more.

“dean? what’s up?” you ask, approaching him

“I fucked up. That’s what i do. Dean the professional fuck up.”

As you approach him, you notice a huge pile of blood on the side of his face, he has obviously been in a fight: most likely over ripping someone off with fake drugs to get money.

you move closer to him, attempting to hold him as a form of comfort: he lets you, he would never let J.C or any of his other mates do that.

“You know, it’s so easy when you’re twenty and you think everything will be alright and then.. everything goes shit..! And there’s no one there to help you out. I sold a story to the paper.. about J.C surfing the boneyard.. he thinks I did it to earn a couple of quid. Fuck the money, they were gonna give me a job, all i need is a job to get me life sorted..”

You can tell he truly didn’t want to rip people off anymore: he just wanted to get out of the drug and dealing scene, he wants a normal life.