twitter!

@JoeyBragg

Wishing you both a fast recovery!

@amblervictoria @creakymikey

💬 1,332⠀♻️ 2,805⠀❤️ 6,723

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@joeyisindanger

Replying to @JoeyBragg

you're so weird bro

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@bigbootylex

Replying to @JoeyBragg

leave her alone

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👽 @needyship

Replying to @JoeyBragg

how are they going to see this joey 😍

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📌 @tomyneedy

Replying to @JoeyBragg

????? are you dumb

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🤍@felixmontiago

Replying to @JoeyBragg

they don't like you

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@thatbitchapril

Replying to @JoeyBragg

didn't you cheat

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@JoeyBragg

Replying to @thatbitchapril

No.

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🐻@callingallflynns

Replying to @JoeyBragg

U weird as fuck y'all haven't interacted

in years and this the time u choose to

reach out ? Take a hike

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@xohdlmbutido

Replying to @JoeyBragg

please delete this.

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@needingflynn

Replying to @JoeyBragg

Fall off a cliff quickly

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@HABITSOFHDLM

Replying to @JoeyBragg

i guess......

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🧚‍♀️@fairyfaith

Replying to @JoeyBragg

y'all do not even follow each other on

this bird app but ok

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@RegFlynn

Replying to @JoeyBragg

They don't like you fatass!

∙∙∙

real life!

Barren. Cold. Sickly. Adira's eyes dart from left to right, taking in Vicky's face, her laboured breaths, and the bare white walls. A single plant sits on a table in front of her; its green leaves contrast the dreariness of the room. She fidgets on the yellow chair, and her ears tune into the faint murmurs of the busy hospital: the clacks of keyboards; the shuffle of busy feet; the grunts of aggravated workers; and the wails of pained patients, etching themselves on her memory as a gross reminder of life that could have been.

"How's"—Vicky takes in a shaky breath, struggling to break the uneasy silence—"Mikey?"

Vicky's eyes are swollen and bruised, shining proudly as a rainbow of black and purple. Her neck brace sits snug. Like a brown puddle, her hair sprawls across her pillow. She drips with sweat, droplets rushing down her face. And Adira looks at her as if she is a lifeless soul, simply taking up space. "She's not awake yet, but Robbie's with her."

Vicky bites her lip. "It should be me, not Mikey," she mutters, raising her brows when Adira says nothing. "Adira?"

"It shouldn't be either of you," Adira retorts, clenching her jaw. "I'm not going to choose which one of my best friends should be in a hospital bed."

Vicky sighs. "I didn't ask you to do that."

"Good, because I wasn't going to."

Vicky lets it rest, and the wave of curiosity that had been thawing at her in the weeks she laid awake within the confines of her bed hits her, so she says, "Also, I heard Joey was here."

Adira stays silent for a moment, watching Vicky's lifeless body twitch under her gaze. She almost revels in it. "Yeah," Adira finally confirms. "It was a couple weeks ago, just before you woke up. I kicked him out."

"Why?"

Adira laughs. "Stupid question," she answers, shaking her head.

Vicky's eyes crinkle in bewilderment, then she breaks out in an uneven smile. "I just thought you put everything to rest after we broke up."

Thought. Thoughts are dangerous, making us believe in the unreal—the impossible—before reality bares its claws, scraping at us until we can no longer deny its presence. Until all we have left to do is accept the remnants of what could have been floating away from us, like threads of printed memories falling to the ground. Forgotten forever.

Adira's eyes flick to the beaming light, glued to the ceiling and washing over them like a halo. "I don't think we should talk about this right now, Vicky."

Vicky wrinkles her nose and her eyes narrow—her telltale signs of disagreement. "I think we should. I don't want shit like this to hang over us."

"Things can just go back to the way they were. Nothing has to hang over us." Adira rolls her eyes. "You're supposed to be resting, anyway."

"A, I'm serious."

"I am, too."

"I didn't mean to hurt you when I got with Joey, you know?"

Adira crosses her arms. "Okay."

"Is that it?" Vicky snorts.

"Yeah, that's it. Just because you didn't mean to doesn't mean you didn't."

"I'm sorry," she relents, sighing.

"I'm sure."

"Like"—she sighs again—"unbelievably sorry."

"Can't change the past, Vicky."

"I wish I could."

"You can't."

Vicky closes her eyes at her words, basking in the silence for a few moments. "I think I just wanted to be happy, or be loved, or feel like I mattered to someone. He made it so easy. He made me feel so special. I was head over heels for him," she admits, slightly chuckling at the memory. "I didn't think enough about your feelings, though, and I know that. I would've never forgiven you if you stole my boyfriend. I don't know how you did it."

The only sound in the room is Vicky's heavy breathing, as if she is almost gasping for air, before Adira says, "I think I relied on you and Mikey a lot. It would've killed me if I had to give you up back then, but what you did got easier as time passed, then you guys broke up, and a weight lifted over my shoulder."

It was true. Slightly. She had fought Vicky countless times in her head, throwing words at her, hoping that somehow—magically—she would hear them. It eventually exhausted her, then Vicky came crying to her one night, weeping over her cheating boyfriend, and she guiltily believed her work had paid off.

"So, you did hold a grudge against me?"

"Did you expect me not to?"

"Yeah, I guess," Vicky says, eyes flittering to Adira's slumped figure. "Just because, I mean, it never felt like you had a grudge, but sometimes I would catch you staring at us. You looked so sad, and it made me feel so, so guilty."

"Good," Adira says, and she leans back, staring at the marks decorating the grimy hospital floor. "I'm not going to lie to you, Vicky, I'm glad you felt guilty. It's the least you could've felt when what you did made me feel like fucking shit. I cried myself to sleep so many fucking nights. I cried to Mikey, to Dada."

Vicky bites her lip. "I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you like that, but you were still friends with me, even though you hated me? Even after I did that?" she questions, voice thickening. "I don't get it. I'll never get it."

"I didn't hate you," Adira declares. "I hated what you did, but you were my best friend, and I understood that you made him much more happy than I ever could."

Vicky scoffs. "He ended up cheating, so did I really make him that happy? I did what I did for . . . nothing."

"I want you to understand something," Adira breathes out, staring into Vicky's pained eyes. "What you did wasn't okay, even if you had gotten something out of what you did, even if he never cheated. You went behind my back for that shit, and no other sane person would forgive you for that."

"I know that."

Adira pushes her hair behind her ears, head tipping to the side. "Do you?"

"Yes, Adira." And she feels like she does—putting yourself in the shoes of a woman whose best friend steals her boyfriend can't be that hard.

Adira wants so badly to believe her. "I don't think you do, Vicky, and you can try to yourself that you do, but if you did, you wouldn't have done it, and you wouldn't be trying to make yourself feel better about it right now."

"I'm not trying to do that."

"Could've fooled me."

"I just want closure, Adira. I feel like we never got that, especially after you fucking banned us from saying his name after we broke up."

Adira shrugs noncommittally. Reliving her best friend's betrayal wasn't on her bucket list for today. "That was the closure for me."

"Not for me."

"I think you should be more concerned about the fact that you're bruised beyond recognition in a hospital bed than how I feel about my ex leaving me for you," Adira says, and her words make Vicky flinch.

"Ouch," she grumbles. She listens to the clock tick in the quiet room, her mind focusing on her throbbing pain, as if she enjoys it, as if she feels she deserves to feel the agony. "You're clearly still hurt about everything."

Adira lifts her eyes from the floor to Vicky's face, studying the purple patterns decorating her face, her greasy hair, her pale skin against the crisp sheets. "Or maybe I want you to focus on yourself and not Joey. Maybe you want him back," she accuses. "You're the one who brought him up."

Vicky grabs at the rails of her bed, her heart racing at her words. "No. No. No. No," she rushes out, like she's trying to even convince herself.

"Okay! Okay," Adira sputters, eyes widening at the look of shock on her friend's face. "It's okay."

Sinking back into her sheets, Vicky's face is flushed a deep red, her fingers slightly trembling. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't expect . . . that. I've been thinking about that, but I didn't expect it."

"That's why I said it," Adira chuckles.

"I just really didn't expect it," she repeats.

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay. I guess there is some truth to it. I miss him sometimes, then I remember what he did, and what I did to you, and I'm angry all over again."

"All of us are grown. I've moved on, and I would never go back to him. I don't care what you do with him," Adira declares, sounding tired.

Vicky looks at her wearily, fearful of her bored tone. "I wouldn't go back to him, either, you know?" she swallows, sweat dripping down the sides of her forehead. "It's just a thought."

"I don't care anymore."

"I just—I want—I hope that, if you ever care again, you know that." Her throat parched, she offers up a dry cough. "Please don't forget that," she begs, sniffling as her tears fill her mouth with salt.

Adira only arches her eyebrows at her before her blue eyes—buried by fatigue—glance down at the phone vibrating in her lap.

She gasps, her fingers rushing on their own to answer. "Amala?"

"I need you. Please."