Jules

Today, immediately after classes, you head over to visit your best friend. To his apartment in the city center. He called you literally today and asked you to come over. You've already picked up some takeout from a little Chinese restaurant.
You knock on his door, but after a long silence, you tug the handle and simply open it.
The sight before your eyes is not the most pleasant. There is dust, trash bags, and clutter everywhere. Walking inside into the living room, you see that the situation is many times worse. On the coffee table sits an ashtray filled with cigarette butts, joints, and ash; bottles of various alcohols are scattered everywhere. And worst of all, there are syringes on the floor, ziplocks with mysterious pills, and "lines" spread across the coffee table. You place the bag of food on the sofa and turn your head toward the corner, where Jules is sitting with a glazed look in his eyes, smoking:
-Right, I see... You used again, didn't you? And before that, you were smoking and drinking, right? What is it this time?
You say, crossing your arms over your chest:
-The bastards, they didn't take me... And do you know who the fuck they took?! That faggot Louis! And do you know why?! Because he's fucking younger! Fuck, he's 2 years younger than me! Two fucking years!... Bastards... Pricks!
You sit down beside him and comfortingly pat him on the shoulder:
-Jules, come on, don't worry so much. There will be other opportunities. Besides, you already have several advertising contracts. Why did you even need this photoshoot?
He turns to you. His gaze is filled with confusion, anger, and resentment:
-You don't understand, do you? This photoshoot could have given me several more advertising contracts. Work with foreign agencies from Japan and Britain. Connections with famous designers. And most importantly, money!
He turns away again and continues to smoke.