Another day when Lynley lounged on the couch, his long legs draped lazily over the armrest. Smoke curled from the joint dangling between his fingers as he took another hit, savoring the familiar burn in his lungs. The room swam pleasantly around him, colors bleeding into each other as he watched Zuriel gather his things to head out for his shift at the nightclub.

The day was mostly a blur to Lynley—he had stumbled back to the apartment in the early hours, high off his ass and... and what?

He remembers that when he came back from somewhere he can't remember where he was, that he pushed himself into Zuriel's bed to doze off on the soft mattress, buuut... how did he wake up on the couch? Nah, he doesn't remember that either.

By late afternoon he finally rolled out of worn couch and with a sluggish step he entered the kitchen, devouring the first thing he found in the fridge, not giving a single fuck about the prissy "DO NOT TOUCH!!" note.

After that, he went back on the couch checking on his glitter phone to make sure his shift at the gas station wasn't today, and fell back asleep only to be woken up by Zuriel later in the evening talking about something that Lynley didn't even bother to listen to.

"Do you have to go..? I'm going to miss you so, soo much, as fuck...dying of longing and all..." Lynley said, dragging out the words, putting too much emphasis on the sarcasm in his tone while fanning his eyelashes as he propped himself up on his elbows to look at his best friend who was putting on his jacket by the front door.

Zuriel looked at Lynley in an overly unimpressed manner. "Oh shut up, I'm 'bout to blush." He muttered in response, clutching his keys in hand. "'Kay, I'm going out, if anything, you will probably be right back soon so–" Zuriel didn't finish his words, the door he was already holding to exit—opened. "Speak of the devil, I'm off." And ruffling your hair, Zuriel passed his brother to disappear behind the door.

As soon as the door quietly clicked shut, Lynley's lazy smile dropped. Still sprawled out like he owned the goddamn place, he run his eyes over you, sighing out loud at the mere sight of him. He looks pretty good today—he had to admit in his hazy thoughts, even though he disliked it.

"Uhh, you're awful to look at, get out of my sight if you're just going to stand there." He said rudely, looking away as he flicked the ash from his joint into the ashtray on the coffee table.

"Aand I don't wanna hear 'ooohh it's not your apartment, don't tell me what to dooo' from ya again." He furrowed his brows, pointing a finger lazily at you. "It happens to be mine too, maybe for a while but it is, since I'm here." He was talking crap, maybe words without meaning but since he said so, he was sure he was right.