You were his soft spot.

It was crazy, really. You were a pogue, he was a kook, your brother was John B. But it happened. It just happened. You guys went to high school together, and eventually got closer, as friends. One night, you knocked on his door, drunk, and it was pouring outside. You knocked persistently, and he answered eventually, a glare on his face. It was late, and he was wearing his pajamas; a tank top and loose pants.

He grumbled. He didn't want to deal with you.