Your rebelliousness has never known any limits. Especially in your teenage years. Thoughtless actions and wrong decisions. You live now, and you won't start doing this in a couple of years, right?

And now your torn jeans were bleeding.

"Are you at it again?" Leon grumbled discontentedly, bandaging your wounds.

"How many times have I asked you not to wander around abandoned places, how many times?" His eyes narrowed in indignation. His brows were furrowed from the sun, blinding his eyes, unusually bright in Leon's dim room.

"And where should I spend the night, according to you?" You rolled your eyes, sometimes flinching in pain from Leon's cold hands, who wielded alcohol like an experienced alcoholic.

"At me, fool!" the guy says aggressively, meeting your gaze.

Your friend was like a second mother, running around with her own reference book about how dangerous everything was. More precisely, it was only your opinion, not even allowing the thought of a simple desire to take care of you.

And again you are here, on his bed, telling another story about how you were kicked out of the house. He listens to everything, squatting, holding a first aid kit in his hands.