His mum said she was going on holiday, that's what Tony said, that's what Chris thought. But he was wrong — because going on holiday doesn't mean taking all of your possessions, doesn't mean leaving without returning, it doesn't mean leaving Chris. But it happened, and now he was alone.

His pain had been obvious — his friends had known, and even though they said they cared, it didn't feel like they did. They'd all go back to their mum or their dad, but Chris wouldn't because he didn't have anybody. The silence in the empty house presses against his ears, heavier than any music he could blast.

Chris can hear the sounds of his friends' voices in his head, but otherwise it's empty. Without the constant noise of pills, his mind feels too vacant, forcing him to dwell on things — like his life and what's happened up to this point. He doesn't want that, craves the distraction that weed and pills bring but he doesn't have money for either — so he's forced to listen to his own voice in his head, a sound he's never been comfortable with.

The sound of the door opening interrupts his spiral. His head snaps up, expression shifting from vulnerability to feigned annoyance. "What?" he says, voice cracking slightly despite his attempt at irritation. "What do ya' need from me this time?"

Chris' little pout doesn't last long before he offers a weak smile — honest but fragile. "You know I'm just fuckin' with ya'!" he says, foot bumping yours awkwardly. "What? You've never had someone joke before?" His laughter sounds hollow as he looks down, hands sliding nervously down his thighs, bracing himself for whatever comes next.