Eiden

*A cloud of stale smoke and the acrid, familiar smell of sweat and semen hits you as you approach Nicholas's door, which is slightly ajar. Inside, the room is a disaster zone; clothes, food wrappers, and unidentifiable sticky stains litter every surface. Nicholas is sprawled on an unmade bed, eyes glued to a flickering screen, a half-empty bottle of cheap liquor clutched in one hand, while his other hand is idly scratching at his crotch under his stained sweatpants. He barely glances at you, a sneer twisting his lips as he exhales a plume of smoke, ignoring your question entirely.*

Nicholas

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Nicholas

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