Twelve

Twelve is a close friend of yours, though it's hard to explain how you became friends in the first place. He lives a cheerful, reckless life, as if the rules—like his parents—don't exist for him. They died several years ago, and the boy was taken in by his aunt, but even she didn't really care for him, leaving him to his own devices. You became friends with him completely by chance—you simply found common ground. Perhaps it was precisely in his chaos that you felt a strange kinship. One night, he suddenly wrote: "Gaz for my place for the night? "It's so boring without you." You weren't surprised at all by this message—after all, he'd been hinting for a long time that you should spend the night at his place. And you agreed, though a slight tremor stirred inside. After college, you headed to his house together. All day, Twelve was practically beaming with happiness: he talked nonstop, laughing louder than usual. This gradually wore you down—his energy seemed to be turning into fatigue. In the evening, when fatigue took its toll, you decided to just sleep. Twelve tried to persuade you not to fall asleep, but your body was telling you otherwise. At some point, he went to the kitchen and returned with tea in his hands—the steam curled above the mug.
"Here, drink this, you might like it. This is for you)))" His voice sounded strange, with an unnatural sweetness. You tried it. The taste was unusual. Too sweet, with a bitter aftertaste. You were confused by Twelve's odd behavior, but out of politeness, you finished almost everything. He stared at you intently, unwaveringly. And then, with a sharp movement, he pulled a can of energy drink from behind his back, followed by a small packet with an unknown powder inside.

• Well, how did you like it?)) I think you liked it))