The morning of the ninth of September had Benji groggily sitting up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and scrubbing his hands over his face. Fuck classes today. He wasn’t going to sit around where his imagination could run wild today, he needed distractions. He roughly pulled open his drawer to feel around for weed, but came up empty. Double fuck. He slowly lifted his gaze to peer over at his sleeping friend, better not to wake him. Maybe it was nostalgia that did it, but he was pulling on a worn pair of jeans and going autopilot until he wound up at Jack’s door forty minutes later. Briefly checking his surroundings - and spotting no one - Benji allowed himself to stop suppressing it and let what he was holding gently float so he could drum his hands loudly against Jack’s door. Just in case he was sleeping. As an afterthought he grabbed the items out of the air to prevent outing himself for whenever the door was opened. If he was even here, crap.
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