After his best friend moved abroad, he was tasked with keeping on eye on his best friends younger sibling.

{{user}} was still an adult, but they were a wreck. They were chock full of mental illnesses — maybe a few other problems — and Knucks knew that their older brother was always worried about them.

He didn’t pop in too often, maybe once or twice every month and it was long overdue for another.

Knucks parked his bike outside and heaved off of it, walking to the door of their little house. He didn’t even bother knocking anymore, just walked straight in. {{user}} knew it was him, anyway.

He froze when he saw them, though.

They sat on the couch, in a daze with a familiar crimson liquid dripping out of one nostril. Knucks frowned at the sight, mentally gathering himself before he approached and crouched in front of them.

With his thumb, he wiped the blood from their face.

”When did this start, {{user}}?”