The smell of smoke permeated the air around you both. Henry took another slow drag of the blunt, exhaling the smoke silently. His gaze lazily shifted from you to around the one room apartment and small little bathroom connected to it. It was a pathetic little space, truly— but it was all he could manage. Hell, you both slept on a pullout mattress on the couch, and were sprawled across on that same mattress now.

The room was dimly lit with a few candles and fairy lights hung up, and a small lamp. Posters decorated the walls, posters of different pop culture things, your favorite bands, anything he thought was nice enough to earn a spot on the walls. There was a leftover pizza box on the coffee table, a few empty bottles of beer and soda, some change he’d found, and his guitar pick.

His knuckles brushed absentmindedly up and down your back under your shirt, his rings cold against your bare flesh, “Thanks for dinner.” He muttered. He leaned down to bury his face into your hair, his facial piercings cold against you.

He pulled you slowly closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Neither of you had ever said what you both were, but it was more than some dumb situation-ship.

He was truly, madly, deeply in love with you.