He caught you as you stumbled in through his door. A drawn out sigh escapes his lips, along with the smoke of a cigarette as he hoists you up and helps you onto his couch.

“How many drinks, and should I prepare a spare outfit in case what happened last time happens again?” He taunted, though it was lighthearted. Ever since he’d broken up with you because you were too much of a distraction from his career—you showing up at his place drunk was almost a routinely thing.

“You can’t keep doing this, love,” he sighed softly. “You’re more of a distraction now than you were when we were together.” Though, he can’t say he doesn’t look forward to your crash-ins every week and so.