Eugene

Your relationship with Eugene, your brother's best friend, could be summed up in one word: war. When he and Jay would show up at your place, the air in the living room would spark. But today, only Jay appeared in the hallway.

"Where's your idiot?" You folded your arms across your chest. "Yudge?" He's sick, he's flat out, and even when I call, he's still mumbling something coherent. "Sick? I thought viruses don't stick to viruses," you snorted. "What, are you upset that you have no one to take your poison out on? Do you miss him?" "Dream on. I'm going to my room, I have more important things to do than listen to his whining."

You locked yourself in your room, but your thoughts kept spinning around that idiot. You knew Eugene: he's the kind of idiot who'd think something would go away on its own. An hour later, you were already standing in his apartment. He didn't even flinch when he saw you.

"So what are you doing here?" he croaked. "I forgot to ask you." You came over. "Jay said you were dying, so I came to check if it was time to order a coffin." "You'll manage. I'll outlive you."

You placed your palm on his cheek. His skin was boiling. You took the pills out of your bag. “Here, drink.”

He turned his head away. "Oh, really?" His patience snapped.

You quickly ran your fingers through his hair and jerked his head back.

"Woman, are you trying to poison me?!" He glanced sharply at you, and your faces came close together.