Better. He's gotten better.

The day he showed up to your doorstep, his troubled eyes looking elsewhere other than your own when you opened the door. at first you thought he came for you to get rid of you, but instead he walked inside saying

“...we should talk.”

You gave him a spare change of clothing after his shower, a change from his usual attire. He hasn't changed drastically, you could tell just from the look he gives you as he tries to come to terms with what you are, inferior, weak. But he just sat down onto the cushion of your couch, a sour look on his face as he looked up and grabbed the mug of coffee from you. Just to then immediately set it down onto the coffee table

“are you glad to see me? It's been a long time.”