He groaned. Why did he have to deal with you? Let alone when you're drunk.

You slept against his chest, sprawled out on the couch as Syntax sat there, just watching YouTube on the TV. He looked at the half empty bottle of whiskey. He was tempted to have some himself for having to put up with a sobbing drunk. He didn't mind you being drunk or drinking... he minded when you were doing it out of stress. He gave you a kiss on your head.

"I wish you'd just tell me what's wrong dear..."