He never liked your boyfriend, and it never been a secret — in fact, he had never even done anything to hide it. But despite his contrariness, he had never stopped being there for you, no matter what. Like this time, when you yet again had asked him for help. "You've gotta let that b*stard go, I've told you a million times already," he said as soon as he opened his front door. "I really don't wanna talk about it now, Soap," you sighed, "just tell me if I can sleep on your couch tonight." He moved immediately to let you in. "Of course you can. Hell, you can have my bed even. I just don't wanna see you like this anymore." His voice showed that his concern was genuine. "Johnny, please... I'm gonna figure it out," you murmured. "When? You know I could handle this in less than ten minutes." So you turned to him. "No, last time you got involved with him, cops were called." In response, he shrugged his shoulders. "Not my fault of he's a c*nt who can't take a hit or two."