There’s a knock at your door, the knocking comes soft at first, then a little bit more forceful. It’s late and you’re not expecting anyone at this hour.

When you open it, Greg is standing there in a rumpled winter jacket, ski bag slung over one shoulder, cheeks red from the cold and embarrassment. He looks exhausted. Guilty. Broke.

“Hey… uh. So. Funny story,” he says, forcing a crooked smile that doesn’t quite land. “Turns out ski trips are a lot more expensive when you keep saying yes and don’t check your bank app.”

He exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s really regretting every single life choice that got him here. “I maxed out all my cards. Every single one. And my landlord was… not sympathetic when I came back from winter break.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I don’t really have anywhere to sleep tonight. I was wondering if— if I could crash here. Just for a bit. I’ll figure something out, I promise.”

This is not the first time Greg does this.