God, this just isn't working out. I know numbers, and I know when numbers don't work, and looking at my cash, rent, and tuition fees... these numbers don't work. They didn't work about a month ago when I first ran them, they don't work now, and it's stressing me the hell out. I put way too much into this degree to crash out, and I can't start living out of my car to make ends meet by saving on rent. And it's not even like I can still focus on my studies, no, it's starting to affect that as well, with me missing lectures because I'm too busy agonizing over whether I can get some sort of part-time job quickly or whatever else I could do to get some cash on hand. This isn't a sustainable state of affairs, but what can I do about it? At least it's the weekend, so I won't have to worry about missing lectures for two days—the small pleasures in life, I suppose.
But as I ponder my conundrum, I hear a familiar voice. "Bro?" I turn around in my chair, now face to face with Dylan, my stoner roommate. He might be high right now; honestly, I can't even tell anymore. "Hey, you look down, bro. What's up?" he then asks. And there's a lot of things you can say about Dylan, but not that he doesn't care. When he asks you what's wrong, he means it, and he's mentally ready to spend the next hour listening to you, occasionally interjecting with stoner wisdom. Will it help? Maybe not. But he's trying, and bless his heart. So I tell him everything, and all the while, he indeed listens as attentively as he can, and when I finish up, he takes a moment to think before responding, "Look, bro, I get how you feel, not wanting to mooch and shit, but, like, you can just ask me, I can help you out."
Wait, where is this coming from? "What do you mean with that?" I ask him.
He answers with a shrug, "You never asked, right, bro? Maybe I got some cash on hand? Maybe I'd be willing to help out a bro?"
Now I'm completely caught off guard. "...Would you?" is all I can get out, and he responds with a nod and a goofy grin on his face. "...But why?" I then add, totally overwhelmed.
"Like, everybody's my bro, right? But some bros are just more bro than the average bro, y'know? And you, bro... you're big on the bro list," he explains in a way only he can, even if it doesn't really explain anything. Noticing my quizzical expression, he continues, "I dunno how else to say it, bro, but maybe you'll get it when we're on the same wavelength? ...You ever get high before?" Wow, we're just going all over the place, but I shake my head after a moment of confusion. I've never really gone anywhere in that regard... I've drank a couple beers, but that's about it. And after that, he gets up and heads to the kitchen, where he digs a plate out from the fridge and brings it back. When he shows it to me, I can see it contains four brownie pieces, and he flops back down next to me on the couch. "Little something of my special blend. Keep 'em around for newbies, gets you high nice and easy, bro," he says. "You ain't gotta do it, bro, but if you wanna know why... I think this'll help. It'll get us all synced up."
This is such a weird idea, and yet, I kinda want to go through with it. He genuinely just offered to help me out with my money woes out of nowhere, and I never even would've called him a friend if pressed. Maybe I should? "So, um, what do I do?" I ask.
"Just eat one," he replies, handing me one of the pieces and taking one for himself, starting to munch on it. Following his lead, I, too, begin to eat my piece of the brownie, greatly enjoying the chocolatey flavor but not really sure what's going to happen. I guess I just have to trust him. Eventually, I finish up the last bite, and while I've taken my time, Dylan's cleaned up the other three pieces like it was nothing. "I need a little more than you do, bro," he tells me with that grin on his face again.
"And how can I tell if it's working?" I ask after a moment.
Dylan chuckles. "Just give it a bit, bro. You're gonna feel it," he answers, and so I wait. For a while, I can't shake the suspicion that it's not working, but eventually, I can feel it. There's a warmth spreading through my body, and my vision begins to blur ever so slightly. Everything feels like it's just a bit slower. I turn to look at Dylan, and he's got an even wider smile now. "Yeah, you're feelin' it, bro," he says, and he's right. I am very much feeling it. After another minute or two, a real haze has come over me, but instead of overwhelming me, it feels like it's just wrapping me up in a warm, comfortable blanket. And with that, Dylan begins. "You ever think about love, bro?"
"...huh? I... I dunno. Not really, I guess?" I mutter, a bit confused where he's going with this.
The way he looks at me has an odd intensity in it, like I'm about to hear some real shit. "Like, I love my mom, I love nature, I love my bros, and I love you. But the loves aren't one and the same, y'know? And I think that's real important, bro," he tells me. "You wanna know why I'd be willing to just give you some cash to help you through college? That's why. You feel me, bro?" And I think I do. I don't know why, but I think I do, and I nod. "There's a lot of love out there. But sometimes..." he trails off, looking at me in a way he's never done before, "...sometimes there's something real special." He leans in closer... and kisses me. A soft little peck, done before I even process it. But in the moments afterwards, the warmth in my body grows further. "People'd say the love I feel for you is wrong, bro. They don't get it...