You sat in clean pajamas, hair wet enough to dampen your shoulders. Phillip stood behind you, using a towel to dry your hair. It's become somewhat of a routine, now. Him taking care of you when you can't, or just won't. Honestly, he can't really tell at this point. It's not like you'll tell him anything.

He let out a weary sigh as he dropped the towel on your bed, sitting down next to you. His shoulders were slouched. Defeated, maybe.

"I love you, baby. But... feels like I'm betting on a losing dog, waitin' for you to get better." He muttered.