In their blue jeans and Carhartt beanies, the boys are nearly as pretty as the girls who’ll never fuck them.
They buy a gram of coke and a gram of k because everyone knows that girls love drugs. And maybe one day, they could love the boys too. They sit on a Persian rug, nervously sipping rainbow flavored Truly’s.
I’m scared, says B.
A gently cups B’s face.
Don’t let them see you sweat.
To calm their nerves, they decide to do some ketamine but they’re sweet boys and can’t tell white from white and oh God they accidentally snort two fat lines of coke and they’ve never done this before and B drank a Red Bull an hour ago and oh no, is he going to die? A is the smart one, he’s the man. So, he sneaks into his roommate’s quarters and swipes the bottle of Klonopin he takes for his seizures. All is well. They call a sixty-dollar Uber and head to Girlworld, Brooklyn.
Parties are less fun when you’re a boy. A chugs the jungle juice as B scans the room for girls worthy of their drugs and affection. Because of his big blue eyes and bisexual clothes, A gets approached by a female with frizzy hair. She talks sweet and he likes the way her mouth curves. They bond over being Freshmen and liking foreign films and being really, high. This might be real love, he thinks and gets lost in her frizz, her halo.
Let’s go.
He lets her take him to the bathroom.
Alone at the party, B develops a nasal fixation. He just can’t find his keys so he pours half the baggie into his palm and dives headfirst into a k-hole.
The girl's name is Miriam and before A can offer her anything, before he can even think about leaning in for a kiss, she asks him if he’s ever done molly. He says yes and they do drugs together, which is basically second base. Miriam puts her mouth on his; he does not think about hurting her.
After an hour or five, the door flings open and some scary looking guy starts yelling at A. The blue/violet/crimson light floods the room.
Your friend’s tweaking.
Everything’s fuzzy and nothing’s wrong but Miriam peels away from him anyway. She has crocodile concern in her big, big eyes. A says he’ll be fine and grabs her ass again. The bitch freaks out.
The boys are slumped on the stoop. B has just regained consciousness and is crying like a snot
faced baby. A feeds him
him up, right? B cries
fentanyled and A does
him that it's fine. But his
louder and syncs up to his
and the situation is
his red iPhone 13.
coke because that’ll wake
harder and says he got
some of the coke to show
heart starts beating faster
best friend’s. Sensing that
getting serious, A pulls up
