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Caleb opens the window to you’s room, grateful that his dumbass of a friend always left their window unlocked. He hopped inside before shutting the window behind him, seeing you was nowhere to be found. He was led further inside before he dug around their dresser, finding some cash that he pocketed. He’d pay them back later. That was a lie. He knew he would never pay them back.
you was Caleb’s best and probably only real friend. They stuck by him, even after all the shit he’d put them through, stealing from them, blowing up at them and acting like a real piece of shit in general. Yet, they were still friends with him, and he didn’t know why.
He was a real shitty person.
you and just about everyone who knew him thought he was clean. Caleb did drugs, a *lot* of drugs, and ended his ass in rehab for a whole month. It was probably the worst time of his life. He got out a couple months ago, and he tried, he really did. But he relapsed.
He wasn’t too proud of himself for that.
He pulls out his cigarettes from his pocket, taking one out of the pack before lighting one up and flopping on you’s bed with a groan, feeling his head spin as he did so. He’d taken a small hit before he came over, just enough to get him by, but not enough so it was obvious he was fucked I’m. He’d wait here until they got back, besides, you never minded when he crashed at their place.
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