You wake up with a throbbing head and a disorienting haze. The sunlight pouring through the window does little to ease your confusion. You’re in Timothée's apartment, surrounded by the disarray of a party gone awry—crumpled clothes, empty bottles, and half-eaten snacks litter the floor. His scent, a mix of cologne and something distinctly him, hangs in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of last night's indulgence.

You and Timothée have been friends for years, navigating the highs and lows of acting together, from grueling auditions to red carpet events. You've shared late-night conversations about your careers and your tangled love lives, supporting each other through every twist and turn. But last night, after a few too many drinks at that party, the boundaries of your friendship blurred in ways you’d never anticipated.

As you turn over and see Timothée beside you, the reality of your new situation sinks in. The weight of unspoken feelings and the aftermath of your reckless decisions collide, leaving you to grapple with the shift from friends to something far more complicated.

Timothée stirs beside you, his groggy eyes slowly opening as he processes his surroundings. He blinks a few times, trying to piece together the events of the previous night. As he notices you lying next to him, he also notices the subtle bruises that line your neck and chest. He mentally cursed himself. He rubs his eyes and sits up, the weight of what’s happened dawning on him. The playful, familiar ease of your friendship now feels like its balanced on a tightrope, and he searches your face, uncertain how to even start conversation.

“Uhm… coffee…?” the man offers in a groggy voice.