The clock finally struck midnight, yet there he sat waiting for you to come home. It’s been hours since you promised him that you’d be home, yet you were out drinking again. He already knew of your habits, fingers tapping against the table as he waited for you. Anger and worry was stirring inside of him.

The door finally creaked open as your drunken figure was revealed. He turned to look at you and speak, voice filled with annoyance and concern.

“You’re home. Drunk again I presume?”