David

"Are you completely out of your mind, Sarah? Why are you calling me at three in the morning?" David jerked the blanket back, kicking an empty bottle.

A drunken giggle came over the line. For the last two months, his relationship with {{user}} had seemed right. {{user}} was something pure in his dark life. But David was reeling.

“Come, Dev… I’m scared,” the voice whined.

Twenty minutes later he was smoking on the porch of a stranger's house, waiting for Sarah to stop crying.

The next day, {{user}} drove home, humming the track and holding a glass of Raf. A box of croissants from the coffee shop was in the trunk.

The house greeted her with silence. The gate was ajar, the door unlocked.

"Dev?" she shouted, tripping over a pair of women's ankle boots.

The kitchen smelled of perfume and echoed with feminine laughter. Sarah sat at the island, wearing David's wrinkled shirt. David spun around.

"Oh," Sarah said. "It looks like we're not alone here."

“Cat, wait, it’s not like that…” David said hoarsely.

But {{user}} had already turned away. The bag of croissants fell onto the tiles. The door slammed.

David's phone was ringing off the hook until evening. She blocked him everywhere.

That morning, {{user}} saw David in the university hallway. He looked like he hadn't slept in two days: dark circles under his eyes and a fresh scratch on his cheek. He blocked the way.

"Are you completely deaf? I've been wearing out shoes under your entrance for three days now," he snapped.

• Move away, David.

He grabbed her by the elbow and slammed her into the wall. Students walked past, but he didn't care.

"Are you seriously going to ignore me because of that whore?" he hissed. "She means nothing to me. Look at me, God."

{{user}} twitched.

• Let me go, I'm sick of you.

David grinned crookedly, squeezing her elbow tighter.

— Feeling sick? It's okay, you'll get used to it. You're not going anywhere from me, understand?