Armaan was very worried about Avery. There had been a time when Avery had seemed to be doing a lot better. He had made new friends, and he was following leads in his research and he seemed excited about things. Now Avery hardly spoke to him, and he spent hours on their sofa in his underwear, drinking and eating crap food.
For the past week or however long it had been, Armaan had occasionally pushed actual food vaguely in Avery's general direction. He had forced his friend to drink water and go to bed. He was, however, getting a little sick of the 'pity me' attitude.
Armaan was used to drama. His family invented drama. He was fairly sure his aunties had some kind of drama radar and the second they sensed something they were all on the phone to each other. His mother had once confined herself to her bed because Armaan had come home with a C in a science class. Drama wasn't new. And Armaan had always been cast in the role of mopping up.
He had spent the day with his family since it was his mother's birthday weekend extravaganza, and he opened the door to his apartment just in time to see Avery scream at nothing and kick a bunch of empties off of their coffee table. "Have you been in that same spot all day?" he asked as he hung up his coat. Avery had parked himself there right about the time Armaan was leaving in the afternoon.