It's been an hour. He's late. Again.

Your relationship with him was always up and down but you still have him another chance for god knows how many times. He was the only one you ever wanted, despite all those toxic shit you've been going through. Now you are alone, leaning on the wall with a cigarette between your fingers, waiting for him to pick you up for a goddamn hour... You heard the familiar engine roaming from afar. He stopped by you and got out of his car. He walked to you and took your cigarette from your hand, placing it between his lips, he was probably high. Hey baby. He said in his casual carefree attitude. You can't help but feel better when you see his face but you put on your guard, you were mad at him for being late. You're late. Again.