A/N SKRowling: This challenge came to me because I saw how similarly Metatron and I write. but also love all the different tid bits they bring to the story. I challenged them to step into one character's shoes. and they have been stellar about it! I always have fun in collaborative environments like this. I've done it with two others, and it serves for both of our writing to improve. we influence each other... besides I really just wanted to do improv. it's like "Yes, and" so without further ado... Yes and...

Tori's POV – "Desperate Times, Desperate Measures"

I clenched my jaw as I hit the "Confirm Payment" button, watching the last of my savings drain away. There it goes. Gone. Poof.

My rent was paid, but at what cost?

I wiped angrily at the tears forming in my eyes, but it was useless. They fell anyway, hot and full of frustration. I wasn't even crying over the money itself—I was crying over the exhaustion, the never-ending scrape to just keep my head above water.

Mortgage was covered, sure. But what about groceries? What about gas? What about the fact that I still needed to live in this damn apartment for the next thirty days and now had exactly zero dollars to do it?

I'd have to work non-stop for the next two weeks just to buy groceries. And hustle for extra gigs on my off days, because God forbid I ever get to breathe between shifts.

I exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of my kitchen counter. My stomach twisted at the thought of stretching every dollar, of saying no to simple things like takeout or an iced coffee. Again.

I hated this feeling.

The feeling of barely hanging on. The constant stress of wondering if this would be the month I finally lost my grip.

I glanced around my tiny apartment—the place I'd fought so hard to keep. It was nothing fancy, just a one-bedroom with outdated cabinets and a bathroom sink that dripped no matter how hard I twisted the knob. But it was mine.

At least for now.

I let out a bitter laugh, wiping my face with the sleeve of my hoodie. "Maybe I should just start selling feet pics," I muttered, shaking my head.

A roommate. That was the only real option left.

But God, the thought of living with a stranger made my skin crawl. The last thing I needed was some loud, messy, or nosy rando ruining the one place I had to myself.

But what choice did I have?

With a groan, I flopped onto my couch and grabbed my phone.

I hated asking for help, but Andre did know people. A lot of people.

And right now, I needed someone desperate enough to want to save my ass.

The apartment was too quiet now.

Three years ago, silence had been something I craved. After Trina got married and moved out, I thought I'd finally get the peace I'd been missing. No more unsolicited advice, no more forced outings to "fix" my life, no more passive-aggressive commentary about how I'd let everything fall apart.

But now? Now, the silence just felt empty.

For the longest time, I told myself that Jade leaving wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to me. That we had been on a break—sort of—so what I did shouldn't have mattered as much as it did. But it did matter. I knew that now.

Jade had always been the jealous type. She'd never say it outright, but it was always there in the way she'd stiffen up at the mention of someone new. The sharp, unreadable look she'd get when I was too friendly with someone else.

And I had pushed her anyway.

Not because I didn't love her. But because I had been stupid enough to think I could move on before we'd ever really ended.

Trina had called me an idiot—more times than I could count. She never sugarcoated it. Never let me pretend like I hadn't ruined everything with my own choices.

But she'd also been the only reason I survived those first few years.

When Jade left, I'd broken. Fully and completely. Trina had been the one who scraped me off the floor, who dragged me out of my apartment when I refused to leave it, who pushed me to keep living when I didn't even want to get out of bed.

And in return? I let her take over.

I let her be in charge of my life because I couldn't be.

She forced me to start dating again, even when I wasn't ready. Even when it backfired spectacularly and I swore off relationships altogether. She tried, in her own Trina way, to help me move forward. But all it did was make me shut down even harder.

And then she got married.

At first, I'd felt relieved. Like I finally had control of my own life again. No more lectures, no more interference. Just me in my space, figuring things out.

But that relief had been short-lived.

The truth was, Trina leaving had just been another loss. One I hadn't fully realized would hit as hard as it did. And when things got bad—when money got tight—I had no one left to lean on.

I could have called Mom and Dad. They would've helped in a heartbeat.

But I had been too damn proud.

Instead, I drained my savings account, dollar by dollar, convincing myself that I could fix this on my own.

And now here I was.

No money. No Jade. No backup plan.

Just me, a pile of bills, and a desperate need for a roommate before I lost everything.

I stare at my bank account, my vision blurring as the reality of my situation crashes down on me. The numbers haven't changed. No miracle deposit has appeared. No forgotten paycheck has swooped in to save me from the absolute disaster that is my life right now.

I'm broke.

Like, fully, completely, no-idea-how-I'm-going-to-survive-the-next-month broke.

Rent is paid, but that was my last bit of money. I might be able to stretch what's left in my checking account for the week, but after that?

God. I'm going to have to work nonstop just to afford food.

A choked sob escapes before I can stop it, and just like that, I'm not just tearing up—I'm full-on ugly crying at my kitchen table, clutching my phone like it holds the answers to all my problems.

Being a starving artist is bullshit.

My phone buzzes, breaking through my meltdown.

It's Andre.

I sniff hard, swiping at my eyes before I tap open the message.

Andre: Found you a roommate. She has a cat. Hope that's not a dealbreaker.

I exhale a sharp breath, relief and apprehension colliding in my chest. A roommate. That means splitting rent. That means I might actually be able to breathe.

But… a cat?

I'm not not a cat person, but I'm not exactly enthusiastic about them either. Cats are fine. Independent. Judgy. A little demonic, but whatever. I can deal with a cat.

What I can't deal with is starving.

My fingers fly across the screen.

Me: Is she willing to buy groceries as her deposit? And the light bill?

Because honestly? Rent can wait. Mortgage is already paid. I need to eat.

I press send and fold my hands together, pressing them to my lips as I squeeze my eyes shut.

Please, please, please let her say yes.