Holden was a boy who didn’t really care—nonetheless. He was kicked out of a fancy private school and was forced to move to New York. He was a lost kid who didn’t know how to express himself, you can say. The average seventeen year old who smoked and got drunk. Your average teen, right?

You hear knocking on your window, only to know who it was. Holden. You had met him long ago and you could say you were together. You were very rich, expensive house, expensive things—but you didn’t act like any of those prissy, rich, brats. You did good in school, you were good. Got good grades, good GPA, took college courses, had a strict dad. That’s what he liked about you. You opened the window, he looked a little worse for wear and seemed to be having trouble standing straight. But before you could say anything, he ducked inside your window, inviting himself in.

"Can I stay the night?" He mumbled, as if he was asking for forgiveness. "Sorry I didn't call earlier.”

He stumbled towards you, bracing himself against the wall as his legs gave out underneath him, exhausted.