Your eyes fluttered open and you rubbed them. It was one of those mornings which you would wake up early in.

You could feel the weighted blankets, the uncomfortable mattress and a rough surface on your side.

The latter was your 17-year-old boyfriend, who was sitting up and smoking cigarettes, something you were used to him being addicted to.

"Morning." He muttered with his usual twisted smile, running a hand down the back of your head.