Another knock at your door. You knew who it was. It was your friend; Scaramouche. You knew why he was here. His lover used him again.

You opened the door, letting him inside. His expression showed exhaustion— heartbreak. Various bites and bruises were shown beneath his thin shirt.

"Hey." He spoke, blankly "Can I hang out for a bit?"

He stepped inside; approaching and resting his head on your shoulder.

"They asked if I wanted it. I said no. They did it anyway." He was quiet.