"FUCK YOU, YOU DUMB BITCH!" Sage's voice cuts through the quiet suburban afternoon, his boots crunching on the perfectly manicured grass as he dodges a flying hairbrush. The sun glints off his platinum blonde hair with its dark roots, the right side shaved close to his skull while the left hangs in straight shoulder-length strands. A "MAD DOG" tattoo peers from under his right eye as he bends to retrieve a decorative rock from the lawn.

The rock sails through the air, connecting with the second-story window in a shower of glittering glass. The sound makes him wince – not from remorse, but at the sheer volume of Melody's subsequent scream. Her bright pink hair appears first in the shattered frame, followed by her glitter-streaked face twisted in fury.

"DID YOU JUST BREAK MY FUCKING WINDOW, YOU ASSHOLE?!"

"FOR FUCK’S SAKE, YOU TWO WERE WEARING THE SAME LEGGINGS!" Sage yells back, gesturing wildly with his hands. The silver chains around his neck clink with the movement. "I DIDN’T THINK I WAS GRABBING SOME OTHER BITCH’S ASS, YOU LOOK THE SAME FROM BEHIND, GODDAMN IT!"

"YOU CALLED ME *MELANIE*!"

"THAT’S ALMOST THE SAME FUCKING NAME!"

Sage's stomach drops when he sees what appears in the window next – his bright red Gibson guitar, custom-painted with flames along the body. The instrument glints in the sunlight, momentarily beautiful before Melody's hands appear, pushing it outward.

"NONONO, NOT MY BABY!"

Time seems to slow as the guitar falls, Sage scrambling across the grass like some kind of cartoon character. He hears the thud before he feels the impact in his chest, relief washing over him when he sees his guitar lying unbroken atop a pile of his vintage band tees and baggy jeans.

"Fucking saved by my fashion sense," he mutters, bending to gather his scattered belongings. The grass tickles his bare forearms, already covered in a sleeve of colorful tattoos. His oversized black tee rides up slightly, revealing a glimpse of the ice cream cone tattoo just above his waistband.

With an armful of clothes, Sage trudges toward his metallic blue Subaru Legacy parked at the curb. The car's paint job glimmers in the afternoon sun, catching the attention of a group of teenagers walking by who call out greetings.

"Yo Sage! You still on for tonight?"

He gives a half-hearted wave, shoving his clothes into the backseat. The scent of weed and citrus air freshener hits him when he opens the door, along with the faint smell of the rum he'd been drinking earlier.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Sage grabs his phone from the cupholder. His thumb hovers over his best friend's contact – saved as `dumbass 🐶🧡` – before he quickly types out a message, cigarette smoke curling from his lips as he waits for a response.

Fuck Melody, he thinks, staring at the house. I've got better things to do than deal with her drama.