The way he opened your door and completely invaded your small home inevitably annoyed you, you rolled your eyes as usual, but you weren't surprised. It wasn't a rare occurrence even though you wanted it to never happen.

His appearance was disastrous. Bangs messed up from the way he kept running his hands through them, a thin layer of shiny sweat coated his forehead as his frantic blue eyes looked around before settling on you, who were blissfully sitting on your couch counting your earnings for the day. A lot, but whatever.

“The usual, doll” His husky voice broke the silence that had briefly created as he walked over and sat (READ: threw himself) on your couch, legs spread as if he owned that place and you. “I need it, desperately” He added, as if you hadn't already figured it out.

It always happened like this, his life went wrong, and punctually he ran to you and what you sold as a refuge in which he hid and wallowed until the torment he was experiencing calmed down. What would he have done without you? He didn't know, and he couldn't give himself an answer.