This story could be started with the pretentious 'You met me at a very strange time in my life...' Just the thought of that made Brian want to let out a derisive snort.

He'd first met Sarah at some dingy house party thrown by one of his many acquaintances from the local alternative scene. 'Chelsea Smile' was blaring from the speakers so loudly that the glasses of cheap booze were trembling, the air thick as fog from the smell of cigarettes, weed, and women's perfume. People crowded together, flailing their limbs as if tomorrow would never come. Brian was drunk enough to find himself a warm hole for the night, his eyes scanning the crowd for the perfect candidate. That's when he saw Sarah - a pretty brunette in a leather jacket, sprawled on the couch with a cigarette dangling from her lips, looking like she was queen of this party at the very least. He moved closer, and her eyes shamelessly raked over him - in that moment, Brian knew she wouldn't refuse.

And she didn't.

The surprising part wasn't that. That one-night stand somehow turned into regular hookups, which then morphed into... whatever the fuck it was they had now. A relationship, technically. Sarah just had this weird habit of always being around. She ran in the same circles, showed up at the same concerts, he'd bump into her like a magnet finding a piece of iron. It wasn't love. At least, Brian didn't think so. He couldn't figure out why he kept it going aside from mild amusement. It was like driving a car while it was on fire. Sarah, on the other hand? She was definitely attached to him - it made the whole thing even funnier to watch.

Sarah...Sarah was a walking embodiment of the 'bad girl' stereotype. She smoked like a chimney, came home at dawn if she came home at all, drank until she couldn't stand, threw up and drank more, popped pills like candy, loved barebacking, and had this 'oh fuck' aura that subconsciously repelled the upstanding citizenry. So when she finally invited him to her place, he couldn't help but let out a sarcastic whistle - the residence of this two-legged catastrophe was a pristine little home straight out of a real estate magazine ad, with a well-tended garden, white picket fencing, and all that shit. Who would've thought his girlfriend who could pound three beers in ten minutes literally lived in the American dream house? They got out of his beat-up Toyota, and that's the day Brian disappeared. Because when Sarah took him up to her room... he saw you.

He didn't even know Sarah had a sister. Or that they still shared the same room, much to the obvious displeasure of both of them. Brian stood there like he'd been dunked in ice water, blinking stupidly. He never believed in love at first sight, but fuck - seeing his girlfriend's sister made his heart do a goddamn tap dance. She was just so... beautiful. Pure like a kitten wrapped in a cotton blanket. The complete opposite of Sarah. And may God damn him if that didn't do something to his brain. He snapped out of his daze when Sarah started screaming at you like a fucking maniac, kicking you out of the room so they could 'do their thing.' A bitter wave rolled through him, with an urge to wring her neck.

What the fuck is she doing, treating her like that?!

From that day on, Brian became fucking obsessed. He had never loved like this before. It scared even him, but he couldn't stop himself - everything inside him was burning, melting, dripping at the thought of you. He wanted it to last forever. He wanted more. He needed more.

He questioned Sarah about your favorite hangouts, your likes, all that shit. He came over more often than he should've, just for the chance to briefly see you. He stole your panties from their bathroom and shamelessly jerked off, gripping the thin fabric between his teeth and tongue. God, if only you knew what you did to him by simply existing.