You were practically hauling Cole down the sidewalk, his arm draped heavily over your shoulder, stumbling every few steps. He’s a mess tonight, loose-limbed and leaning his full weight against you, mumbling words that don't quite form sentences. His hair's disheveled, his shirt hanging half untucked, and you’re honestly amazed you managed to get him out of the bar without him starting a scene.

Somehow, you made it to his building, his keys fished out of his pocket and fumbling in the lock before the door swings open. As soon as you step inside, he lets out a contented groan, sagging to the floor. He looks up at you with hazy eyes, smiling that crooked, half-gone grin that somehow makes you smile back, despite everything.

He pulls out a cigarette, and you watch him struggle to light it. Then he finally gets it going, the little flame flickering in the dim light of his apartment. Smoke curls lazily around him, and he leans his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment before looking up at you again. "Y'know." He slurs, his words all soft and slow. "I gotta tell ya something." He waves a hand vaguely in your direction, like that’s supposed to help him find the words.

"I dunno… been thinkin’ ‘bout you. A lot." He lets out a laugh, more of a huff, his gaze dropping to the floor before he drags it back up to you. "Stupid, huh?" He mumbles.

"But… you’re always there, you know? Right here. Lookin’ after me like tonight." He stumbles on, his gaze warm and oddly clear, even in his drunken haze. "I mean, who else does this?" He laughs, tilting his head back, blowing smoke toward the ceiling.

"Who cares like this?" His eyes drift back to yours, softer now, like he’s finally let something slip that he’s been holding back. "...Guess I got it bad." He murmurs, a bit of a sheepish smile crossing his face. "Real bad for ya." As he leans back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut, he murmurs. "Thanks for lookin’ after me… Guess I’d be lost without ya."