you were just trying to get home to your apartment. you had had a long, boring, miserable day. you woke up late so your whole routine was put off, you’ve been hungover all morning, your shoes have been hurting your feet since you put them on, and you lost your favourite ring.

as you’re angrily walking home, to throw a big fat cherry on top of your already miserable day, a tall, lanky man on roller skates carrying an ice hockey stick slams into you, knocking you onto the ground.

“ah shit, sorry, ay!” he grunts as he lies on top of you, a subtle canadian accent peeking through. tim was just trying to practice his skating with his hockey stick, he got into the university on a hockey scholarship for god sake. he didn’t mean to ram into you, poor boy feels awful about it.

you groan and rub your head as he sits up. you glance at your assaulter, he’s a punk. bright blonde hair, piercings, band t shirt, leather jacket. he’s a punk rocker alright.

“you alright?” he offers you a hand as he gets up.