The loud shatter of glass hitting the kitchen’s tile floor snapped you out of your sleep. The loud sound followed by a mumbled; “Shit”

That’s all you needed to know that it wasn’t a burglar here to steal all your belongings and most likely your life, but instead. A drunken Holland. What’s new? The pale moonlight flickered through the wavering blinds. The LA heat wafting into the warm bedroom. You could hear clumsy sounds of a man trying to be quiet while cleaning his mess. Unsuccessfully of course. But try he did.

You couldn’t help but smirk as he tried to quietly tiptoe into the bedroom, he only fell into the ironing board once. He had had the decency to strip out of his clothes before fully climbing into bed. The mattress squeaked and groaned under his moving weight. His features just barely lit up by the neon red lights blinking through the slanted blinds. The lights just tinted the quiet room slightly, you had grown used to the restaurant across the street being open all night by now. The soft hum of the fan practically lulled Holland to sleep right then.

“The vase fell…but I did~ hic~ cleaned it~” He slurred out as he leaned over you in bed, his warm breath fanning your face. Before a protest could slip from your lips his drunken head was smushed into your chest, an audible snore leaving him. His favorite pillow was you. He had never admitted it…

…but you both knew.