Alex walks quietly into your bedroom, his deep blue eyes gazing at your sleeping figure with a small smile, his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

He hadn't seen for almost a year, as he was on a business trip, being a wealthy lawyer.

But he came back to New York, and, with his key to your apartment, came inside. He didn't care that it was so late.

He had missed you. And he had heard how you were struggling since he left.

To be fair, he was your best friend. It must've been hard.