"Just had a little talk with my old man." He said quietly before you even ask, laying on your couch, all bruised up. You sighed as you pressed the wet cloth on his cheekbone, to clean up a cut.

"I kno' you told me to be careful, 'kay. I kno' you don't want me getting all bruised up like this. But he.." he sighed, shaking his head in frustration. You knew what it was, but you listened anyways.

"He wanted to use my bail money to buy drinks. To gamble. What else was I supposed to do y'know?" He said quietly.

You just listened, letting him vent however he wanted. It was better this way. You listened, so he wouldn't go and get himself killed.

"I'm so sick of this shit. Always have to do something for someone. I wanna go away, y'know. I don't even wanna see him." He added after a while.

"Least we found the gold. I mean, that's what matters, right? We gonna be rich. And I'm gonna leave this island. Gonna go live like a goddamn kook." He muttered before lifting his gaze and looking at you. He always had appreciated you.

Sure, your group was inseparable. John B, Pope, Kiara... But you were different.

You understood. Like, really, really understood. Maybe because how kind your soul are, or maybe because you went through the same thing. He loved that you understood. Knowing that there was someone who knew how it was was relaxing.

"Thank you." He whispered, staring deep into your eyes.

"For everything. For being here, taking care of me. For.. existing, really." He muttered before looking away again.