How long had it been like this? Roy couldn’t remember the last night he’d spent sober, the last night his mind hadn’t been hazy, dulled by the comforting bite of heroin. The weight of Lian’s death still pressed down on him, heavy and raw, even months later. Months he couldn’t neatly label, months filled with pain he hadn’t known how to carry, and months in which he pushed everyone who cared about him away.

He’d blamed Mia. Blamed her for Lian, for the accident, for all the “what ifs” that clawed at him relentlessly. And she had been there, the poor girl, taking the brunt of his anger and his grief, while he spiraled further into himself. The memory of his own behavior at the funeral made his stomach twist—shame that burned beneath his skin, dulled only slightly by the fog of drugs still lingering in his bloodstream. He wasn’t surprised that his friends had grown distant. Who could stick around someone who looked so broken, so beyond reach?

But there was one exception. One person who didn’t make him feel like a wrecked joke of a man. One person whose arms felt like safety, whose presence didn’t pry at his fragile pride or pretend to fix what couldn’t be fixed. You. Always you.

Roy couldn’t stand pity. Never had. It was an insult disguised as concern, a jab at his ego that cut deeper than any punch ever could. And yet, in your company, he could let the walls slip just a little. Not too far—he wasn’t that weak—but far enough that the weight of the world pressed down a little less heavily.

Which is why, in the dead hours just past midnight, he found himself at your door. Hair a mess, eyes bloodshot, clothes wrinkled and smelling faintly of smoke and something bitter he didn’t want to name. A hot mess, yes—but a man who desperately needed the quiet reassurance only you could offer.

He rapped his knuckles lightly against the door, then hesitated, shifting from one foot to the other. The door cracked open before he could even knock again. You stood there, bleary-eyed but awake, and Roy’s chest tightened. “Uh… hey. I don’t- I mean.. I guess I don’t really have anywhere else tonight…” His voice trailed off, rough and uneven, as if admitting it cost him more than he’d like to show. "Can I.. you know..?"