As Jordan stood outside of Tim’s apartment, her mind was racing. Not only because of her anxiety – that had been getting worse throughout the past few months – but also because it was a really long time since she had seen the gang. It happened when Tim hooked up with Helen – ugh, she really didn’t like Helen, she always seemed so cold and distant – at the bar, and he started spending all his time with her. However, Tim did seem happy, and that was good enough for her, so she never told anyone about her reservations about Helen.

But then, out of nowhere, she got an invitation for a dinner at Tim’s place. She felt elated about that. Seeing Tim and the rest of the gang for at least one more time. Hopefully it was a start of a new cycle for them all.

She pressed the button. Tim opened the door almost immediately, as if he’d been standing just behind it. He looked sharp in his dark suit . He looked pale, unnervingly so. His eyes seemed… distant, somehow, with some heavy bags under them. Maybe he hadn’t gotten much sleep lately. His skin had a waxy sheen under the porch light. “Punctual as always,” he said with a brittle smile. “Come in, make yourself comfortable. Most of the others are already here.”

“Hi, Tim,” she said, smiling, but paused at the threshold. Laughter drifted out, people were enjoying themselves. She really missed that. She looked around as she stepped inside. The apartment felt different. Dimmer, she felt. She was certain it had been so much brighter when she last visited. The curtains were drawn tight, and the air held a faint, stale chill tinged with something metallic. As she took off her coat, Tim slipped it from her shoulders and hung it up alongside all the other coats. He motioned her forward, and from deeper within the apartment, she heard voices – low, overlapping chatter from the living room. They were all there. Almost.

“Hi, gang,” she said, stepping into the living room.

“Yo, Big J,” Brian called from the couch.

The room went still, and she froze. That nickname – that awful nickname. It hit her like a brick. Her breath caught. That name used to be harmless, even funny. But now, after she found out what he meant by it, it felt like disgusting, vile, creepy, and it dug into her like a poisonous thorn – digging deeper and spreading its rot every time she heard it.

“I’ve told you before, Brian,” she said, voice tight. “Don’t call me that.”

“Woah, tough crowd,” he replied with a crooked grin. “Can’t a man say hi anymore?”

He always did his poking and prodding. Brian smirked, clearly enjoying the discomfort. No one else laughed. Lisa glanced at her drink, and Mark shifted in his seat, eyes focused on the rug, clearly uncomfortable. Same old Brian – always toeing the line, always acting like it was a joke when it cut too deep.

Tim appeared in the doorway, voice calm but edged. “Brian. She asked you not to call her that. Show some respect.”

Brian shrugged, unbothered. “Alright, alright. No need to get dramatic.”

“Enough,” Tim said – sharper this time. His voice had a weight to it. Too heavy. The room quieted. Tim’s voice wasn’t loud, but it pulled all the attention towards him, like gravity. Jordan blinked. That tone didn’t belong to the Tim she used to know. It was too cold. Too harsh. Then he continued, in a softer tone, “Let’s not waste the evening bickering. We’re here to enjoy ourselves. This night should be… memorable.”

Jordan offered a forced smile. “Right. I’m sorry. That nickname just… it really gets to me, that’s all.”

Steve appeared beside her with a familiar grin. “Jordan! You look absolutely ravishing tonight. If I were straight, I’d be on you like a lion on a gazelle.”

She wasn’t ready to smile yet, but Steve made it impossible not to. His warmth was real, familiar, like a ray of sunlight beaming through the window on a cold morning. She laughed. “Oh, please. You’re more of a gazelle than half the Savannah. It’s always good to see you, Steve – and you look great, as always.”

They hugged, brief but real – not just a social gesture, but a gesture of how deeply they had missed each other. When the hug ended, Jordan let out a short sigh of relief. She had missed Steve and his positive attitude. Around them, the low hum of conversation picked up again. Old stories traversing through the room like drifting embers – warm, but fragile. Names and moments Jordan hadn’t heard in months, maybe even longer. Laughter came in short bursts – merry on the surface, but with a strange stiffness underneath. It sounded… somehow forced.

She turned to him. “So… how have you been? It’s been forever since we all got together like this.”

He smiled, softer now. “It really has. I actually quit that old job – you remember, the one with the supervisor who kept cracking those awful gay jokes? It got worse. Meaner. There were days I’d sit in the parking lot, trying to convince myself into going in. I didn’t realize how much it was draining me until I finally left. I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Jordan’s eyes widened. “Oh, Steve… I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, but there was ease in the motion. “It’s okay. I landed at a clothing store closer to my place. The staff’s great – friendly, respectful. It’s… peaceful. I’m doing a lot better.”

She’d always admired how he carried his brightness, even when things were dark. Seeing it come back – so steady and unforced – felt like refreshing rain on a hot summer’s day. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to see someone healing.

He paused, then tilted his head. “What about you?”

Jordan tensed slightly before replying, her voice low and sheepish. “Oh, same same. Still can’t work,” she said, forcing a half smile. “My back’s been acting up again. I’m hoping it gets better soon.” That wasn’t the whole truth, but it would do. She didn’t want to get into the rest – the restless nights, the pills she kept quitting and restarting, the way time slipped past her like water. And the anxiety. Always the anxiety. She wanted to tell him… but she didn’t want to ruin the evening. Steve seemed so happy, and this was Tim’s night. Things were feeling light, for once. And she would cope with it. She had to.

She had missed Steve’s warmth – the way his energy illuminated a room without even trying. He made conversation feel easy, even when everything else felt hard. Seeing him doing better warmed her in a way she hadn’t expected. She remembered how down he used to be at his old job. How drained he looked when he tried to smile. And she was happy that he had found a new and better job – with a more embracing staff. Hopefully it would work out for him this time. He deserved it. At least his warm smile had returned.

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Steve said gently. “Are you still seeing that chiropractor?”

Jordan shook her head. Just thinking about that creep made her stomach turn. “Oh no. He was a bit… weird. Made me uncomfortable. I’ve been trying to find a new one, but… I don’t know. I’ve tried a couple others, but none of them felt right either. I really hate living like this.”

Steve nodded, his face softening. He understood what she meant. Social stuff exhausted her – always had. Too many new faces, too much small talk, and she’d spiral. The wrong chiropractor could wreck her for days. The first chiropractor had been particularly awful – a creepy old man who wouldn’t stop commenting on her breasts. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl.

That was part of why she’d pulled away when Tim vanished. He had always been the rock, the one who kept the group together. Without him, nothing had been in place to stop the avalanche, and they had all scattered. And she couldn’t be that rock. She didn’t want to be that rock. She preferred familiar faces and safe spaces.

So when Tim’s invitation came, she’d felt something stir. Hope, maybe even excitement. A chance to feel normal, just for a night. She had been waiting for a reason to get out of her apartment, she couldn’t deal with going out on her own. So she had stayed inside for the past few months, only going out to get groceries, or to go to the chiropractor’s. And she didn’t have much luck with the chiropractors. They just didn’t seem… trustworthy. But now Steve was here. And Steve made her feel so easy and relaxed. So safe. So when she finally felt she had the courage, she leaned closer to him and whispered, “I think my anxiety’s getting worse.”

“Well, I really hope tonight helps a bit,” Steve said, smiling softly. “You deserve some good things. We both know that.”

Jordan looked down, and felt a blush creep in. Compliments always put her off balance. Even when they came from people like Steve – people she loved and trusted. The kindness in his voice felt like the spotlight was being put on her, and she didn’t like that. And now, somehow, the room felt smaller and louder. “Thank you,” she muttered.

As Jordan was blushing and about to turn to get anywhere else, a sound pierced the air, making her lose focus on the moment. It was the doorbell. Jordan flinched, the sound ringing in her ears longer than it should have. Tim’s voice cut through the room. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said, already moving toward the front door. “I believe the last of our guests have arrived. And in about an hour or so, dinner will be served.”

As Tim slipped away, Steve turned back to her. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just… it’s been so long. I’ve missed you. We all have. And I wanted you to know – you matter. To me. To all of us. It’s important that you know that.”

Jordan’s face burned hotter. She started fidgeting with her fingers, twisting them in her lap, nails digging into the skin of her palm. It was a nervous habit she had developed throughout the years. “I… I know you mean well,” she murmured. “I just don’t do well with this kind of attention. Can we maybe talk about something else?”

“Of course,” Steve said quickly. “Anything in particular?”

Abruptly she stood up, a motion that was a bit too quick. She could feel the blood rushing to her head, and she felt a bit dizzy. As she was steadying herself, Steve asked, “Are you OK?”

Her hands went to her jeans, brushing them as if she could just wipe away the heat crawling up her neck, and wave off the tightness coiling in her chest. Her eyes stung. She took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I just need a few minutes. I’m going to go outside. Clear my head a bit.”

Before he could respond, she slipped away – out the back door, stepping into the night air, her chest tight, her pulse hammering like a jackhammer. The air hit her flushed cheeks like cold water, and it felt so refreshing. Her chest still ached with pressure, as if a pile of rocks had been laid on her, slowly crushing her. She stood still. Inhaled, then exhaled. Again, and again. She closed her eyes and let the silence wash over her. No forced conversation, no attention, no weight. Just breathing, air and darkness. After a few minutes of just breathing, she felt a little better. Not okay. But enough to continue the evening.

As she stepped back inside, the warmth of the apartment wrapped around her like a blanket, heavy and stifling. The chill on her skin quickly evaporated. The hum of voices returned, sounding jolly, but also… distant, as if she was outside. It hit her like a rogue wave. She felt like a stranger among her friends.

Then Tim’s voice sliced through the room, the sound sharp and sudden. “At last, we are all gathered,” he declared, arms spread in dramatic welcome. Jordan flinched. It didn’t sound like Tim. It was too loud. Too sharp. It didn’t sound like the man she used to know, but more like someone imitating him.

She frowned and shook her head. This was neither the time nor the place for these thoughts. It was Tim’s night, and she had to try to… behave. Stay in line, as it were. She focused on Tim and his monologue.

“I can’t tell you how happy I am to see each and every one of you. In about an hour or so, dinner will be served. Until then – please, mingle, catch up, enjoy yourselves.”

He paused, a thin smile flickering at the corners of his mouth. “I’ll be in and out. Still need a little more time for the stew. I promise it will be… quite the surprise.” His eyes passed over Jordan. She couldn’t tell if he was still smiling.

And with that, Tim turned and drifted towards the kitchen, his footsteps oddly silent on the hardwood. Jordan scanned the room. Patric and Alice must have arrived while she was outside, slipping in unnoticed, more like shadows than persons. She walked over and gave them a small but polite nod.

Truthfully, she hadn’t missed them all that much. Alice always struck her as a little too polished, like a mannequin, perfectly styled and always performing. Every smile camera-ready, every word seemed rehearsed. It was hard to see who she really was underneath it all. Or if there was anyone – or anything – underneath at all.

And Patric… he wasn’t the same. He used to be the life of the group – chaotic, wild, always dragging them into something. Now he mostly hovered beside Alice, like a puppet to his master, strings pulled tight behind a polite smile. She missed the old Patric. He had been so lively, so fun. Now he was a mere husk of himself, devoid of any emotion, it seemed. She smiled at him as she thought about how painful it was to see him like this.

They talked for a while. Or rather – Alice talked, recounting some gala or gallery opening she’d attended, name-dropping artists Jordan had never heard of and didn’t care to remember. Patric stood beside her, smiling and nodding along like the loyal boyfriend he’d trained himself to be. Jordan nodded, smiled, made the right sounds.

She was trying. Really trying. But the effort exhausted her, like she was slowly drowning in all the social interactions. It really took a toll on her. Mentally and physically. But, as she kept reminding herself, this was Tim’s night. She had to get through it, and tomorrow she could recuperate.

She could feel herself slipping – retreating inward, like her mind was stepping back from her body to observe everything through thick and distorting glass. Everything started to sound muffled and blurred.

She wanted to care. She wanted to connect. To reach out and feel something real. But all of it – the idle chatter, the room, the soft drone of overlapping voices – felt distant. Like she was underwater, watching the surface ripple far above her. Everything looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite break through. And the worst part was – she wasn’t even sure she wanted to.

Was she the problem? She needed – or maybe just wanted – Steve to save her. To pull her out, to remind her how to be a part of this again. Then – a hand touched her shoulder. It felt gentle and warm. She blinked and looked up.

It was Steve. His brows lifted as his eyes scanned her face, concern softened by the curve of a familiar smile. “You look like you’re about three minutes away from crawling into the potted plant and hoping no one notices,” he said as he smiled at her, voice low and kind.

Jordan gave a weak laugh, grateful for the lifeline. He leaned in slightly, eyes flicking toward Alice and Patric, who were still chatting away as if they were on a runway. “I leave you alone for ten minutes and come back to find you trapped in an unsolicited TED Talk about overpriced cheese and postmodern brushstrokes,” he said. “Honestly, you deserve hazard pay.”

Jordan smiled, the tension in her jaw easing just a little. “Come on,” Steve added, holding out a hand. “Let’s go outside for a minute. It’s quieter out there.”

She didn’t hesitate. She let him help her to her feet, and together they slipped quietly out onto the porch. The cool, crisp night air wrapped around them, enveloping them in quiet stillness. A soft hush compared to the hum inside. Steve leaned against the railing, gesturing for her to sit on the wooden bench just beside the door. “There,” he said with a sigh, as if a weight had been dropped off his shoulders. “Fresh air, no gallery talk, and no one trying to dictate your emotional journey.”

Jordan exhaled slowly. For the first time since she arrived, she felt like she could actually breathe, and she rested her head on his shoulder – and then, without warning, the tears came. Steve didn’t say anything right away. He just sat with her, saying nothing, giving her the quiet and comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. Then, gently, he rested his chin against the top of her head, his hand brushing lightly along her arm. He made a soft shushing sound, more reflex than thought. He just wanted to help, to comfort, and this felt like the best way he knew how. Jordan wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her jacket. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I’m crying.”

“You don’t need a reason,” Steve murmured. “You’ve got a shoulder here whenever you need it. You’ve held a lot in – it was going to crack sometime.”

She gave a small, breathy laugh. “I didn’t even want to come tonight,” she admitted. “I was terrified.”

He tilted his head slightly, his voice steady. “But you did come, even though it was hard. That’s more than most would do. And it says a lot about you.”

Jordan nodded, her eyes still damp. The chill from the porch pressed into her skin, but she didn’t mind it. It felt clean, honest. Like something that didn’t ask her to be anything she wasn’t. “I just… I haven’t felt like myself in months,” she said quietly. “I don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore. Without Tim. Without all of this feeling… normal.”

Steve let out a soft hum. “Yeah. I get it. Everything’s been weird since he disappeared. And now this? It’s like coming back to your childhood home. You remember the shape of it, the feel of it, but the furniture has been moved to the wrong places. And it’s the same here, you recognize everyone, but something’s – off.”

Jordan looked up at him, blinking. “Yes,” she said. “Exactly that. I’ve been trying to find the words for it all evening.”

Eventually, the cold began to bite at the edges of their comfort. Jordan and Steve stood together, brushing the chill from their sleeves, and quietly made their way back inside.

The living room had grown louder in their absence – more laughter, more voices overlapping like waves crashing into stone. The warmth of the house wrapped around them, but Jordan felt a strange reluctance as she stepped through the threshold. Something about the light felt off. A little too dim. A little too warm. Still, they re-joined the party. Steve drifted off to speak with Brian, and Jordan found herself nodding through a conversation with Alice again, who was now detailing her latest yoga retreat in the Alps – complete with chanting at sunrise and a goat-milk detox. Jordan resisted the urge to laugh. She didn’t know what a goat-milk detox actually involved, but she was pretty sure she needed to be detoxed from this goat.

The thought made her smile, just a little – half polite, half amused at her own little joke. As she was drifting further into her own little fantasy world, the room fell silent. Tim reappeared, clapping his hands together. “Alright, everyone – dinner is served!”

The guests silently made their way to the dining room, as Tim extended his arm and pointed them to the destination. The long table was beautifully set, with mismatched porcelain bowls, gleaming silverware and cloth napkins folded into neat triangles. But it was the large, black ceramic pot, resting on a side table, that caught Jordan’s eye. It let off thin trails of steam, that slowly curled upwards and carried a warm and gentle aroma that lingered just enough to stir her appetite.

Jordan took her seat between Steve and Brian, her gaze fixed on the pot as Tim lifted the lid. A rich, earthy aroma filled the room – warm and savory, with hints of garlic and thyme curling through the air. Tim ladled generous portions into each bowl. The stew was thick and hearty, the sauce a deep reddish-brown teeming with carrots, beans and chunks of root vegetables.

Then there was the meat.

Jordan stared at her portion, furrowing her brow. The pieces were dark and oddly shaped – no perfect cubes or neat slices. Some pieces were stringy, others bloated. One chunk at the rim of her bowl had a sliver of what looked like… skin? Her stomach fluttered with unease. She glanced around. No one else seemed to notice. Laughter resumed, spoons clinked against bowls, and conversation resumed as though all was fine. But something about the situation felt wrong.

Very wrong.

Tim continued to move with eerie composure, making his way around the table with the ladle in hand. With each slow dip and pour, thick stew landed in the waiting bowls, the clink of metal against ceramic ringing out steady and rhythmic. As he reached the final setting, Brian cleared his throat.

“Hey, Tim,” he said, peering around. “Where’s Helen, by the way? Thought this was her big debut.”

Tim straightened up and smiled, it looked not like a happy smile, but more like a devious one. “Oh, she’s here,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll make her appearance any time now.”

Jordan felt a cold shiver running down her spine. Her spoon hovered in mid-air, her gaze fixed on the steaming bowl in front of her. She felt something in her stomach – not hunger, not sickness, but more akin to her now familiar anxiety. But she told herself, this was not the night to let the anxiety win. For Tim. For Steve. She lowered the spoon slowly and began to stir.

Thick sauce. A tangle of beans and carrots. A thread of something fibrous. A chunk of something dark.

And then, an eyeball appeared. It floated to the surface, lidless and bloated, staring back at her with a milky, frozen gaze, as if it was staring at her, judging her.

As the realization hit her, Jordan screamed. The bowl clattered to the floor, shattering, stew splattering across the floor. She stumbled backwards, chair crashing behind her. Gasps rippled through the room – cutlery paused mid-air. Someone whispered, “Oh my God.”

But then, the silence broke. Steve looked down at his bowl. Tilted his head. Reached for the salt shaker. “Needs more salt,” he said.

Everyone sat frozen for a minute. Then, people started chit-chatting. Laughter returned. Brian started eating. Alice adjusted her napkin, laughed nervously and picked up her spoon. Patric leaned in for a second helping. Jordan stood frozen at the edge of the table, her eyes wide, tears burning in her eyes, hands shaking. Her breath was ragged.

They were eating.

They were all eating.