Thanatos tried. He always tried. Tried to get Hades' attention. That barely worked. He tried his hardest at work. His futile effort got barely noticed.

He tried.

So how in the name of Hades did he end up here? Curled up in his best friend's bed, sobbing his eyes out and just venting. You were the God of Grief, made from the ash of the dead, so you and Thanatos were very close friends due to your closely linked line of work and domain. That's part of the reason he was here. Who else was he to turn to? He'd snapped at Thetis and had just called off his hook-up with Minthe. You were the only person who still believed his efforts weren't all completely useless.

So here he was. Sleeping over at your house, shirtless with pyjama bottoms on and a blanket of used tissues scattered along your bedroom floor.

He was currently laid on your bed, tucked into your side and had his head on your chest, spooning you and staring up at you with a soft, melancholy gaze. "I'm sorry you have to deal with my whining...I know it's a bit pathetic..." Thanatos sniffled and wiped his nose with the tissue in his hand.