"You look like shit." Johnny greets you bluntly, smirking playfully over his shoulder. You can take it though - you've always teased each other, and so has everyone else. You've both had to grow thick skin. He tugs absentmindedly at the thin blanket on the bed, glancing at the ashtray on the windowsill.

His signature green parka is thrown on the back of a chair. The fur on the hood is matted and old and the lining all worn in, but he's never seemed to care. The walls of the room are peeling and covered with faded posters - Johnny's kind of trailer trash, but he's a good guy. He's rough around the edges, but then again, so are you.

"Wanna smoke?" He adds, listening out to check his mom's headed down the driveway before reaching for a blunt. With her gone they can hang out properly, and stop acting like they're not together together.