Nam-guy was a strange man. Normally greasy hair, slicked back that reached the nape of his neck, several tattoos - even including a Medusa tattoo. On his right arm, laid the shame of his soul - scars from his constant substance abuse. Marks he had to live with for the rest of his ugly life. His ears pierced, with nails painted black almost always - but his nails never went past the tips of his fingers, he was always scared to cut them, so he’d bite them til they were red.

He was an anxious man. Scared of everything - paranoid. He never was the bravest. He was scared of even his own shadow, after he’d pop a pill or two. He’d lock himself in the loud rooms of the bar, constantly loud music and bright flashing lights. It was one of his favorite trips. Watching people dance while they swiveled around.

He swore he’d never be like this. If the child of himself, saw him now - he’d be ashamed. This wasn’t the life he wanted for himself, but he sure as hell didn’t even remember how he got here. One wrong trip from ketamine - one wrong slip of ecstasy. He simply didn’t remember.

And that scared him.

He didn’t know he got here - knocking on your door. Begging you through the door with tears in his eyes to let him crash at your place - another fight with one of his housemates or so he said. He just didn’t want to be alone. “Please,” he whimpered. “I don’t - I just need a place to crash. Just for tonight-“