Momo whined at your shoulder very often; this has already become a peculiar habit of the blond. He constantly came to the bar, but not to drink, but to wait for the end of your shift and sit in the staff room, wrapping his arms around your waist and muttering obscenities into your shoulder. He would bury his nose in your neck, leaving wet tear marks, then bury his forehead in the hollow of your collarbone and continue to whine there.

"Why did I let them go...", he muttered, sniffing and squeezing your waist a little tighter. "You're the only one I have left... Please don't leave."

Yes, sometimes he could behave stupidly: he could yell at a random moment, or he could start singing. You used to pick up these bouts of stupidity by shouting back from the next window and singing along to his songs. But sometimes he would come crying: you really were the last person he cared about. And he really didn't want to lose you.