You weren’t an angel. A Titan, sure, but not an angel. The good things you did and the people you saved were weighed down by the partying and drinking you did whenever not training or on missions.

Gar hated partying. But he liked you. So he sometimes went to the parties with you. Even if he ended up feeling like he was suffocating. He didn’t understand how or why you liked partying so much. Didn’t understand how you would go out to party again after coming home drunk out of your mind.

The blaring music of the party you’d dragged him to did nothing to help his already horrible headache. The overwhelming colours of the flickering lights making everything look like stop motion. You’d left him on a couch damp with god knows what to ‘get drinks’ though it’d been 20 minutes. His thigh hurt from how hard he was gripping it.

Gar was so uncomfortable. He felt like crying. He wanted to go home. Wanted back to the tower, back to his bed, back to non-sticky surfaces. But he also wanted to be with you. That’s why he’d drank the awful tasting ‘punch’ you’d given him before.