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What happens when the hierarchy of addiction shifts, and the only way in is through the back door? And what happens when the person you trust to guard your dignity sells it to the highest bidder—or simply pockets the cash while you’re distracted by his charm?

In this second half of The Lying Liars Who Lied When They Said They Loved You, Tommy II moves from domestic humiliation to criminal complicity. The narrator is forced to navigate the treacherous social architecture of Georgie’s trap house, where access is gated by knowledge, timing, and the willingness to be shorted.

Desperate for product after losing his usual contacts, the narrator accepts coaching from Dorian and RJ to breach Georgie’s perimeter. But the mission collapses not due to police or rivals, but because Tommy intercepts him at the threshold. What begins as an attempt to buy dope ends with the narrator realizing he has been played: Tommy steals $150 of the cash, leaving the narrator with a meager fraction of the product and the crushing weight of being known—yet still used.

The stakes escalate when Ashley, Tommy’s volatile girlfriend, overdoses during a chaotic visit involving Dorian. While Tommy flees the scene, abandoning both the dying woman and his friends, the narrator is left to clean up the physical and emotional debris. Dorian eats cereal from the narrator’s bowl while recounting the night, forcing the narrator to witness the callousness required to survive their world.

Finally, Tommy returns from rehab, wielding vulnerability as a weapon. He offers a rare moment of genuine connection—sharing histories, playing music, and lying side-by-side in the sunlight—as bait for a final betrayal. Under the guise of intimacy and safety protocols (Narcan prepared, needles labeled), Tommy pushes the narrator into a speedball. The result is immediate incapacitation; Tommy vanishes with the remaining supplies, leaving the narrator paralyzed, alone, and texting accusations that go unanswered until the sun rises again.

Raw, claustrophobic, and devastatingly precise, this section explores the economics of trust among addicts, the performance of friendship in crisis, and the lethal cost of believing that someone who uses you also loves you.

Content advisory: Adult language and homophobic slurs, explicit substance use including injection drug use and speedballs, overdose scenarios, theft and financial exploitation, sexual coercion/manipulation, descriptions of medical neglect, and severe psychological manipulation/gaslighting.

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What happens when two days clean give you a glimpse of the friendship you thought you had? And what happens when the man you keep waiting for finally comes back—but only to remind you where you stand?

In this episode of The Lying Liars Who Lied When They Said They Loved You, the first half of Tommy II follows a fragile morning of companionship into a revolving door of unwanted guests, public humiliation, and a death delivered as casual conversation.

For one morning, the narrator and Tommy almost manage to be ordinary friends: walking to the park, sharing stupid jokes, and waiting for sunrise on a basketball court. But a twenty-dollar gift, a quick ride, and a promise to return unravel into another day spent waiting. By the following morning, a broken watch and a bag of dope become the terms of an exchange neither man understands the same way.

Months later, Dorian arrives with an unsolicited solution to the narrator’s loneliness: Cupcake, a familiar face with a questionable agenda. An already disastrous visit becomes a crowded spectacle when Danny Boy brings Tommy through the unlocked door. There are needles to negotiate, belongings to keep track of, and just enough time for Tommy to make sure everyone knows who counts as trash.

When Tommy returns again, naked and admiring himself in the mirror, the narrator is still hoping for affection. Instead, Tommy brings news of Redneck’s death—and an accusation wrapped in reassurance that leaves the narrator grateful to the very person making him afraid.

Raw, darkly humorous, and painfully intimate, this episode explores the small gifts that keep hope alive, the humiliations that become routine, and the difficulty of closing a door when you still want someone to walk through it.

Content advisory: Adult language and homophobic slurs, explicit substance use and injection drug use, sexual references, emotional abuse, body shaming, overdose death, and descriptions of paranoia and a hostile internal voice.

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What happens when the straight guy who uses gay dating apps for drugs and validation singles you out as his personal safe space? And what happens when you let yourself believe that being useful is the same thing as being loved?

In this episode of The Lying Liars Who Lied When They Said They Loved You, a chaotic three-day bender uncovers the unspoken rules of transactional intimacy, internalized shame, and the cruel art of the "clean break."

Meet Chris: six-foot-four, all-American charm, and a master at navigating the grid for drugs, cash, and ego boosts without ever putting skin in the game. What starts as a twenty-dollar favor quickly devolves into a multi-day marathon of stimulant-fueled mixed signals, chaotic third-party drop-ins, and a bizarre impromptu love triangle involving an ex named RJ and a neighbor named Luke.

Through it all, the narrator plays the ultimate "cool gay friend": providing drugs, shelter, and an open ear while quietly navigating his own burning desire to be wanted by someone who treats him as completely disposable. But as Chris prepares for yet another stint in rehab, the illusions come crashing down.

Deleting contacts, mutual agreements to disappear, and a single dollar bill left behind serve as a harsh reminder of reality: when the noise stops, all that’s left is the lingering scent of someone else’s exit and the cruel internal voice reminding you of what you were to them all along.

Raw, darkly humorous, and painfully honest, Chris and the Lies Straight Men Tell Us to Make Us Fall In Love explores the dangerous allure of being someone's pitstop, the performative boundaries of straight-identifying men, and the tragic lies we tell ourselves just to feel included.

Content advisory: Adult language, explicit substance use, sexual references, emotional manipulation, and internalized homophobia.

In this episode of The Lying Liars, we dissect the blurred lines between casual exploitation and addiction. From blank dating app profiles and transactional favors to awkward multi-person hookups and forced digital erasures, Chapter 8 unpacks the emotional wreckage of mistaking servitude for genuine connection.