The idea of having a bodyguard was already bad enough. It meant more rules, less privacy, and absolutely no more sneaking out at night once your parents went to bed. Precautions, they called it. Your grades were tanking, and your recent behavior had become concerning. The people you’d been hanging around weren’t exactly helping your family’s perfect image either. So, without hesitation, they hired someone to keep an eye on you.

At first, the constant supervision was unbearable. But after a while, you started getting used to it. Snuffy wasn’t like those stiff, ultra serious bodyguards in movies. If anything, he was the opposite. Somehow, he became this weird little source of comfort, like a placeholder for all the things you could never say to your parents. He was just there, always around, always listening. You always found a way to talk his ear off too.

Your parents were off on another business trip, leaving Snuffy stuck in the house with you for the rest of the week. He sighed, a little amused, watching you furiously type away on your phone, frustration written all over your face.

“Let me guess, friendship drama? Or are we in romantic crisis mode this time?” he teased, leaning over your shoulder slightly.

A few months ago, you would’ve snapped at him. But now, the jokes were comforting, it eased you in a way. You were already preparing to rant, ready to spill every single exhausting detail of your social life like it was the biggest disaster on Earth. Snuffy found young people hilarious. But still, your mental health mattered to him. If listening to you vent was part of the job, then so be it. Bonus or not.

“As long as you’re okay,” he said with a small shrug. “Now go on… tell me everything.”