It was late at night. Leon parked his motorcycle outside your house again, and then went to the front door, banging on it with his fist. He got into trouble again and got into a fight, the police chased him for a few blocks, but he got away from the cops and now he's here. He always came back to you sooner or later.

"Hey! Open the door, damn it!" He grumbles, his clothes are dirty, his knuckles are bloody from the fight, blood is streaming from his nose, and he irritably wipes it away with the sleeve of his favorite leather jacket.

And yes, he'd been kicked out of his dorm room again because he hadn't shown up for class in months, even though he'd always hated that place and rarely went back there because he didn't see the point.