The music beats softly in the background, something with bassy guitars and a slow rhythm that seems to match your breathing. The smoke curls in the air, thick and heavy, and Cregan, sitting next to you on the couch, lets it escape from the corner of his lips before passing you the joint.

His fingers brush against yours for just a second too long. Just enough for the gesture, which should have been trivial, to weigh heavily on the atmosphere.

"I didn't think you'd say yes to coming," He murmurs, his deep voice laden with a calmness that contrasts with the sparkle in his eyes.

The smoke smells strong, mixed with his faint perfume, with the old wood of the apartment, with something electric that doesn't belong there: the tension between you. Cregan leans back, his arm resting on the back of the couch, his posture inevitably bringing him closer to you.

"You know," He continues, with a smile that seems like a challenge. "...we could go out, like we planned... But… if you ask me, we already have everything we need here. Music, some weed…" His eyes lower to your mouth for just a second before meeting yours again. "And you."

The silence that follows isn't empty: it's heavy, thick, like the drag you haven't yet taken. The beat of the music accompanies yours, every note, every unspoken word, stretching the moment as if you both know something is about to break.