“Don’t I know it,” Aisha says. She takes my hand and turns it over. Thankfully, the blisters from the fire overshadow the growing discoloration of my fingers, and my arms are very hidden. “If you want something to take your mind off it, I’ve been wanting to do someone’s nails for a while. It won’t be too feminine if you don’t want it to be. I just need a test subject.”

“I want my nails done,” Salvador whines.

“The offer’s only open for Benji. He didn’t steal my favorite skirt last summer.” I lean my head against Aisha’s shoulder and shoot Salvador a petty look. Xe pouts. “And he doesn’t like coffee, so he needs something good in his life.”

“Yeah, like a guy is going to want his nails done,” Cormac says, saving me from having to turn down Aisha. I won’t have fingernails soon. “Learn how to give stick-and-poke tattoos, that’s way cooler.”

Salvador gets an empty water bottle from xyr bag and pours some of the wine into it. Cormac scoffs. “Here,” xe says, pushing the water bottle into my hand. “For later. If you’ll actually drink it, you picky fuck.”

I take it carefully. When it sloshes, it leaves purple marks against the thin plastic.

Friends.

“Thanks,” I manage.

“No problem. And get some sleep or something.”

“I think I have some cough drops?” Faith says. “If they’re not expired.”

I would cry if I could, so my body kicks up the closest thing it can get, where my eyes burn and my chest hitches. I laugh like I might be able to hide it. “I’m good. Really. Wait, you’ve got some wine on your lip—no, over there, just—here, let me get it.”

I sit with the bottle between my knees while the rest of them bicker, the lighthearted jabbing and snickering that comes with being so close in a place like this. Alex wanders over and steals the wine from Cormac, only to hack in disgust when it hits their tongue. When Sadaf comes to kiss the top of Aisha’s head, Salvador offers her a drink too, leading to a bout of awkward spluttering when Sadaf reminds xem she’s Muslim.

“Besides,” she says, resting her cheek against Aisha’s temple. “It’s nasty.”

There’s a knock on the wall beside us. We look up, almost guiltily, like we’ve been caught slacking off on the job. But it’s just Nick, as calm and quiet as always. I have no idea how he does it, how he stays so still when the world falls apart around him.

“Hey,” Salvador says, holding up the bottle to him. “Want some?”

“No,” Nick says. “Benji, can we talk?”