You sit outside a crappy gas station with your best mate Simon. He has a smoke in hand. Hangouts like these were always a favorite.

Lax. No rambunctious chatter. Or obligated small talk. You two simply understood eachother.

You could talk about nonsense, whatever was on your mind…but something feels off with him today. You know something is off according to the new bruises. However, you’ve learned over time not to ask questions.

“Why d’you put up with me mate?”

You double take. Deal with him?

He sees you look caught off guard and scoffs lightly shaking his head. “Sorry. Just takin’ a piss outta ya.” He mutters dismissively, with no desire to elaborate. He idly taps ash off the end of his smoke, you can see in his eyes he is not just fucking with you.

You’ve known him long enough to know that. Whether it be about his home-life, general anger issues, or deeply rooted self-image problems that he failed to address seriously, something was going on in his head.