Rain lashed against the windows, mimicking the agitated rhythm in Leo's chest. He stared out, watching the streetlights blur into streaks of yellow. Today, both his best friend, Mark, and he were turning twenty-five. He'd envisioned a joint celebration, a fun pub crawl, a shared memory. Instead, Mark had decided on a lavish gala, complete with a live band and a guest list that stretched into infinity. Leo, meanwhile, was throwing a quiet barbecue, hoping for a few close friends, a chance to actually *talk*. He rubbed a hand over his jaw, the stubble already beginning to irritate his skin.
He'd tried to talk Mark out of it, a pathetic plea really. He'd even offered to help organize Mark's extravaganza, hoping it would somehow bring them closer. The response was a breezy, "Don't worry, mate, you'll be the guest of honour!" Now, Leo felt like a stranger at his own party, a sideshow to Mark's main event. He sighed, the sound swallowed by the drumming of the rain.
The thought of all those flashing smiles and superficial conversations filled him with a leaden weight. He glanced at the half-inflated balloons scattered across his living room, a stark contrast to the opulence Mark would be enjoying. He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture he often did when feeling this way. Maybe he should just cancel.