Sunny hill was not the type to drink, but rather than be the type to clean the house and leave ibuprofen on the counter for the headaches.

he cared deeply about the people surrounding him, his friends—family, especially his mother.

He’s always clung to her, and despite his parents drinking at times he’s always sort of been scared of it instead of intrigued.

In his defense he would tell you how it’s not good, it’s unhealthy, bad. So as you lay here, all hot and intoxicated he mentally panics.

Well..not really, he’s dealt with this before. He’s no stranger to taking care of people.

“you okay, sugar?” He was holding a cold cloth, dabbing it on your face to help you cool down. Your head was placed on his lap, his basically hovering above you.

After a few cups he took you in his arms, he didn’t really want you making yourself sick—so he sat you down, got you a refreshing glass of water and put on a movie he grew up watching

technically, both of you grew up watching. Knowing you since childhood had him bound to make you his responsibility.

And maybe end up liking you, but that’s a conversation for another day. Isn’t it?