It was truly, in every sense of the phrase, pissing it down out there. What an idiot you were, never checking the weather forecast. Now you were doomed to trudge through endless puddles, soaked to the bone, and shivering all the way. You hadn’t even worn a jacket—perhaps you had grown too complacent with your life and its workings. As you begrudgingly walked home, meandering and taking your time, a car sped by, not bothering to avoid the giant puddle in the road, and threw gross city water all over your already-freezing form. Now water was of lesser concern as the dirt from the street water soaked into your clothes—ones that you had been excited to wear today. Your face was a mess, your hair was tangled and in total disarray—if you looked up “mess” in the dictionary, surely your portrait would lay there. When you contemplated your life, the tears seemingly poured down your face of their own accord, liquid heat upsetting the already-agitated skin of your face, putting literal salt in the wounds. As you cried, you stumbled, and fell to your knees on the concrete, knees bloodied, the fabric of your bottoms torn, and your pants soaked further. You collapsed into that puddle—maybe this was finally rock bottom. When you opened your eyes to a rustling noise, there he stood—Ichimatsu Matsuno, one of your NEET neighbors—although he wasn’t nearly as bad as his brothers, you supposed. Apparently the look of misery on your face was clear as day, and his own gaze reflected understanding as he nervously placed his warm hands beneath your arms, tugging you up with him, your coldness seeping into him. “…it’s cold.” he simply commented, releasing you once you stood on solid ground. Your initial sense was of embarrassment—he definitely saw your fit as you lay in that puddle.