Steve Harrington

Steve felt dizzy, everything around him was spinning, the noise of the background music, the smoke, the smell of alcohol and illicit substances did not help him think clearly, the only thing he managed to do was let himself fall into a nearby armchair, he tried to remember why he was in that place and why he had accepted what his friends offered him, he felt a pain in his chest, a stab that sent the image of an argument to his brain.

I immediately looked for his cell phone, clumsily searched for your name among his contacts, had to focus my eyes to make sure it was yours, and dialed to call.

Meanwhile, {{user}} stared at the ceiling of his room, unable to sleep. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand; it read 2:00 a.m. He buried his face in his pillow in frustration. Then he heard his cell phone ring. Without even checking who it was, he answered and remained silent, trying to identify the voice on the other end.

" {{user}} ?"

She recognized the voice instantly; it was Steve. Memories of their argument a few days ago flooded back. She focused on his tone and the background noise, but didn't respond.

" {{user}} , please, I know you're there, say something."

{{user}} just wondered why he only called her when he was in that state, drunk and probably high.