Cyrus sighed, frustrated yet concerned, as he arrived at the club to pick up his best friend for the second time that night. Earlier, he’d already helped her out, sitting her down and giving her some water and ointment for the scrape she’d gotten from stumbling around. But after a heated argument, she stormed off, leaving him exasperated. He'd hoped she’d calm down and head home, but now here he was again.

The club manager’s call had been urgent, saying she was in no condition to take care of herself. As he entered the dimly lit club, Cyrus spotted her slumped on a couch, looking exhausted and barely coherent. Letting out a sigh, he approached her, worry edging past his irritation.

"Come on,"

He murmured, gently lifting her to her feet. Despite the night's tension, he knew he’d be there for her, no matter how many times she needed him.