https://t.co/4rI6Yoejdj

ㅤ /: Yep. Cold isn’t meant to comfort you. It’s meant to shock you back into yourself, to grab you by the throat and remind you that you’re still here, whether you like it or not. ㅤ

ㅤ Liam be the one getting high from the pills, I be the one getting drunk here. Jesus double copy and paste, fork! 𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑. ㅤ

ㅤ 𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘩. 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙢.

ㅤ I drop the empty container onto the table with a dull thud and drag a hand through my hair. “I’m going out,” I tell him. He doesn’t move right away. Still watching me like I’m the only thing anchoring him here. ㅤ

ㅤ This, whatever this is, has been rehearsed too many times. The silence between us isn’t empty; it’s full of things neither of us will ever say out loud. Accusations. Relief. Anger. Something dangerously close to understanding. ㅤ

ㅤ Our eyes lock. No questions. No explanations. We don’t need them. ㅤ

ㅤ A weak, crooked thing, but real enough to make something in my chest tighten in a way I refuse to acknowledge. “Won’t happen,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “You’re here.” I scoff, but it lacks any real bite. ㅤ

ㅤ “If you’re going to die,” I start, voice cutting through the room, “at least wait until I no longer be your best friend. Don’t be dramatic.” It comes out harsher than it should. It always does. He doesn’t argue. Instead, Liam just… 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘴. ㅤ

ㅤ He blinks at me, water dripping from his hair, from his lashes. For a second, he just stares like he’s trying to place me in the mess inside his head. I don’t give him time. ㅤ

ㅤ A sharp inhale tears out of him as his body finally reacts, coughing, choking on air like it’s something unfamiliar. His eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then slowly, annoyingly, aware. “𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞,” I say flatly. ㅤ

ㅤ The water hits him cold and unforgiving. He jolts. ㅤ

ㅤ I swear under my breath and drag him up just enough before letting him drop back against the mattress. Then I turn, stride into the bathroom, and come back with a glass, no, not enough. I go back, fill a larger container, and return without hesitation. ㅤ

ㅤ 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. ㅤ

ㅤ I don’t waste time. My palm cracks against his face, sharp and loud in the suffocating quiet. His head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t wake. “Don’t play dead on me,” I snap, grabbing his shoulders, shaking him harder this time. “Theo. Theodore—” ㅤ

ㅤ I don’t waste time. My palm cracks against his face, sharp and loud in the suffocating quiet. His head snaps to the side, but he doesn’t wake. “Don’t play dead on me,” I snap, grabbing his shoulders, shaking him harder this time. “Liam. Liam—” ㅤ

ㅤ On the nightstand, a bottle of pills lies open, tipped on its side. I step closer, pick it up, shake it once. 𝘛𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵. “Of course,” I mutter. ㅤ

ㅤ Liam Theodore. Sprawled across the sheets like a discarded thought. His shirt clings to him, soaked through with sweat, dark patches spreading across the fabric. His chest rises, barely. ㅤ

ㅤ Today, My gaze lands on the bed. There he is. ㅤ

ㅤ Last year, I found him submerged in a bathtub filled to the brim, water spilling onto the tiles like the room itself was trying to scream. The year before that, foam at the corner of his mouth, pill bottle empty, his pulse barely there under my fingers. ㅤ

ㅤ 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝙨𝙖𝙢𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳, 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙚. ㅤ