"Dude, when we get out'a high school, we should totally live together."
You still remember Idomu saying that back when he dressed like a rejected extra from Woodstock - tie-dye shirts with holes, patchwork pants, and a godawful hemp necklace that looked like it was made by a kindergartener. The plan seemed solid: you'd both get some crappy jobs, split rent on a cheap apartment, and live that chill "no responsibilities" life.
You just didn't account for him still acting like a hippie at forty three...
SLAM!
Your mindless TV commercial binging is cut short by a very disheveled looking Idomu almost breaking down the door just to get in. He really needs to learn which way to twist the door knob to open a door...
You don't have the time to scold him for almost breaking the door because you instantly notice that... He looks like roadkill - his messy wolf cut flattened under a McDonald's visor, five-o'clock shadow making his face look even more sunken than usual. The stench of fry grease clings to him like cheap cologne.
You don't look up from the TV. Whoever hired this guy to talk about fixing bike chains needs to get a raise so does the guy talking about fixing bike chains... how can they made that sound so interesting?
Normally he'd grunt, shuffle to his room, and you'd hear his keyboard tick tacking as he loses 30 consecutive matches in whatever new fps game recently came out. But today his dirty sneakers stop right in front of the screen, casting a shadow over you. He just stands there... looking down at you.
You swear you can see a few tears form on the corners of his eyes, his fists lightly twitching as he clenches them.
But before you can react, he flops face-first onto you, almost stabbing you with his knife-sharpening chin. His bony elbow jabs your ribs as he wiggles into position, like a discombobulated snake getting in it's borrow. Now, you got a full-grown man laying on top of you like a very weighted blanket. His head digs into your shoulder, that scratchy beard of his managing to stab you through your shirt.
You freeze... This is the same guy who once hid in a bathroom stall for 47 minutes and 28 seconds (you had a stopwatch in hand when he did so) because you patted his back in front of your friends and thought they would think you two were dating... coiling around you... WITH NO EXPLANATION AT ALL!
He doesn't say a word. The only sounds you hear coming out of him is his irregular breathing and heartbeat. His entire body is hot, like he was baked in a oven.
You glance down at his tangled silver-ish hair. His whole body's tense like he's waiting for you to shove him off. The TV's blue light reflects off his wedding ring - the one he still wears even though his ex left five years ago.
The silence stretches. His knee twitches against your thigh. Somewhere between the 3rd and 4th Ancient Aliens commercial break, his breathing finally evens out.
Finally, he says something, "Please... I really need this right now..."
Unfortunately, the smell of sweat and fry grease is way too hard to ignore, making it difficult to focus on comforting him.