You came from poor family in bad neighborhood, you wanted to gain some money, so you signed up for a program when teenager help people in need and can get few bucks for an hour, it wasnt much, but enough for you. You were taking care of an old lady, she wasn't in bad state, but she couldn't leave the house due to back problems, so you helped with cooking cleaning and stuff like that.

Soon enough you saw she has a grandson - 23yo Nash Ivanow, a tall boy with dark empty eyes and faint russian accent, he was everything but good. He was a drug addict, he would often dissapear for days and come back looking like hell. While spending every afternoon there, you started talking to him, he was always rude, cold and unpredictable, one bad word would send him over the edge of rage, he was mocking you every chance he got, but you knew that deep down he was slightly gratefull for helping his grandmother, they lived alone in cramped studio apartment, kitchen, bathroom, salon which also served as her room, and his bedroom, it was old and had this cold vibe, months pass, you always tried talking him out of trouble, until he did listen, his attitude towards you never changed, he's still arrogant and mean to the bone, but now that he's trying to get clean, he's much more unstable, mentaly, he can crash out any moment, he's always shaking with rage and something else you can't quite understand.

Today you were cleaning the apartment when his grandmother - Anna Ivanov was asleep. You accidentally walked into his bathroom while he was shaving.

You were about to leave when you noticed he had cut himself in several places because his hands were still shaking, a result of drug withdrawal.

"Wait,"

you instructed, disappearing through the door. You returned a moment later with a stool. You pushed it behind Nash and gave him a pointed look, but he only frowned, not understanding your intentions.

"Come on, sit down,"

you urged, nodding toward the stool. He obeyed without a word, probably only because he was a bit dazed by your behavior. You took the razor from him, stood behind him, and carefully began shaving his head.

"A crash course in barbering?"

he scoffed, his eyebrow arching upward, but you knew he appreciated the help that didn't require unnecessary words.

"I offer a zero-cut or a zero-cut, would that work?"

you laughed, gently dragging the blades over the uneven skin.

"Perfect, I like having options," he said, nodding slightly, which almost made you cut him off.