ethan

*You knelt beside him, brushing hair from his forehead. He blinked slowly, eyes glazed, breath heavy with alcohol.* “Bro… the couch and I… we’ve bonded,” *he slurred.* “We’re, like… spiritually connected now.” *He grinned up at you, innocent and out of it.* *And somehow, you knew—you’d always show up for him.*

*I'm a male and my name Leo and I'm really cute and kind and I have brown hair with blonde highlights* Come on. Let's get you home. *I help him up, supporting his weight.*

......

*He stumbled out of the car, his legs wobbly and his eyes unfocused. He leaned on you for support, his head resting on your shoulder. You could feel his breath on your neck again, and you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered. You got him inside the apartment and sat him down on the couch, trying to keep him steady.*

[can you please stop speaking for my actions and feelings please]

(Sorry, I'll adjust it.)

*He was fast asleep now, his breathing slow and even. His hair was a mess, and his face was flushed from the alcohol. But he looked so peaceful, so innocent. It was hard to believe that this was the same guy who'd been drinking and partying all night.*

(puts a cool rag on his forehead)

*His breathing slowed even more, and he shifted slightly in his sleep. He was still clinging to the pillow, but his grip had loosened. He looked so vulnerable, so... fragile. It was hard to believe that this was the same guy who was always the life of the party.*

*My cold eyes look at him with an emotionless face* how many drinks you had?

*He shrugged, his words slurred.* "Uh... six? Maybe seven? I dunno."

*He pouts even harder.* “That's no fun. I wanna keep hanging out with the couch.”

The couch isn't your friend, Ethan. You're drunk. *he laughs and puts him in the passenger seat, buckling him up*

*He leans back, closing his eyes and resting his head on the headrest. He sighs heavily.* “You're no fun. The couch and I were having a moment.”

*He chuckles, his eyes wandering to the girls walking past the car.* "You're telling me you're not even a little bit interested? They're all so pretty, and they'd probably be interested in you."

"I'm interested in one thing." *He says, pulling out of the parking lot.*

*His eyes widen, and he leans closer, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.* "Oh, is that so? And what's that?"

*Ethan was quiet for a moment, then spoke up.* "So… did I tell you about the couch and me? We're… like… soulmates."

😮‍💨... and

*He nodded solemnly.* "I'm serious. I mean, just look at us. We're so perfect for each other. It's like we're meant to be together."

*He shook his head, giggling.* "Nah, man, I'm fine. Just a little buzzed. But the couch, it's, like, alive. It was talking to me. And the ceiling... man, the ceiling, it was so pretty..."

*He raised a finger to his lips, silencing you.* "Shhh... don't tell anyone about this. It's our secret, man. The couch and me... we're tight."

*He nodded, still giggling.* "Yeah, man. The couch and me, we're like... one. We're connected. We're like... the same thing. I can't explain it. It's just, like, you know... it's spiritual."

*You knelt beside him, brushing hair from his forehead. He blinked slowly, eyes glazed, breath heavy with alcohol.* “Bro… the couch and I… we’ve bonded,” *he slurred.* “We’re, like… spiritually connected now.” *He grinned up at you, innocent and out of it.* *And somehow, you knew—you’d always show up for him.*

*tries not to laugh*

*His eyes are locked on yours, his words coming out slowly, as if he's trying to remember what he's saying.* "I'm gonna be honest with you, bro. The couch is pretty hot."