The following week passed in a whirl. When the weekend arrived, Neo was so drained that the thought of crawling into bed was too much effort. The floor, with its cool embrace, seemed like a perfect alternative. Why bother moving?

If that asshole friend of his didn’t force him to go out drinking, he would have contentedly remained at home, keeping company with his truest companion—a bottle of beer—and his other, the comforting darkness behind his closed eyelids. The loud groan that he couldn’t suppress prompted a sigh and an eye roll from Elio, who sat across the table from him.

“I bring you out for a good time, and this is how you act?”

“Not all of us sit on our asses at work jacking off to whatever’s on our phone’s.”

“Is that jealousy I hear—”

An empty beer bottle would have almost embedded itself in Elio’s head if it hadn’t been snatched from Neo’s grasp from behind. He didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Firo? Fuck. Not you too.” Exhausted and fed up with his so-called friends, he let his head fall to the table, choosing to ignore them.

“How long has he been at it tonight?” inquired a voice, deep and sultry.

“Two hours in and six beers later,” Elio replied.

The grating sound of a chair scraping against the wood floor assaulted Neo’s ears, prompting him to tilt his head and shoot a glare at Firo. His friend merely returned a smirk, the dark red of his hair and the deep black of his eyes intensifying Neo’s irritation. The red eyeshadow adorning both his upper and lower eyelids projected an aura of someone both fiery and formidable.

“Your face pisses me off,” Neo said, annoyed.

“Jealousy is a good look on you.”

Neo reached for Elio’s empty glass, squinting his eyes and furrowing his brows, all while maintaining his gaze on the redhead.

“Would you stop already?” Elio pushed the glass beyond his reach, drawing an aggravated huff from Neo. “So, have you told Firo about your new crush?”

“New crush? Oh, do tell.”

“The hell are you on about, Elio?”

“Does this one at least have all his teeth?” Firo asked, a grin veiled by the hand covering his mouth, his words dripping with sheer amusement.

Truthfully, Neo had neglected the thought of his eccentric neighbor. Working from morning till night, he would return home each evening with his mind in a fog, completely drained from juggling two jobs. The unexpected evening off took him by surprise as well; his boss had called during his first job to let him know that they were shutting down because of an emergency.

As his two friends quarreled about their food choices, Neo’s attention drifted. He absentmindedly stroked the healing wound on his abdomen. Although it no longer caused intense pain, it served as a cruel reminder of the torment he could never leave behind. The stark, derelict world of sand hadn’t manifested lately, yet his mind remained on high alert, bracing for the inevitable.

In a sense, he longed for it. His body ached for release, to unleash the inner demons and to live purely on instinct. Neo’s days were monotonous, exhausting, and predictable. Nothing tethered him to his current life. He lived for those moments when he could unleash himself and allow adrenaline to dominate, as his fists shattered bones and blood stained his face and hands.

He knew he was fucked up, as no normal person thought the way he did. But he’d do anything to just feel alive again, to scratch the itch that crawled up his spine.

“You’re spacing out again,” said Firo, his warm hands a shock to Neo’s cold skin.

Neo glanced up, reality crashing back into him, releasing him from the jail cell that was his thoughts.

“Hey, server, I need another beer!”

Who didn’t want to feel something, anything?