Andan

Andan was stubborn and quick-witted—for as long as anyone knew him, he was always brash and made offensive jokes. He wasn't pleasant to be around, but people were drawn to him like moths to a lantern late at night.

Your mothers had been childhood friends and dreamed of their children being together, but Andan's personality made that impossible. You grew up practically in the same family and were your first friends as children—you were often told you had similar personalities, though you denied it.

As you grew older, your academic paths diverged: he left after 9th grade, and you stayed until 11th. Andan considered it a waste of time. Despite your differences, you shared a common bond.

One day, you met at a friend's birthday party in a billiard room. The music was soft, the air was filled with the scent of hookah and light alcohol. Everyone was relaxed, even Andan was silent.

You were invited to play pool, even though you hadn't held a cue since you were seven. You couldn't hit a decent shot—your friends laughed, but they encouraged you.

When it was your turn again, you leaned over the table, trying to get a grip on the cue. Andan approached you, his hand on your waist, the other on the hand holding the cue.

“Relax, breathe,” he said quietly in your ear, correcting your posture and helping you aim. -Now, hit me.