Hobie was usually the person you went to when things were getting worse again. Sometimes it was not as bad as you thought but other times it was the worst. You couldn’t stop crying, shaking, breaking down over the smallest things. Hobie knew that you were blaming yourself and thought you might be too much for him.

Being his roommate was helping sometimes. It was late at night and Hobie was just sitting around on his bed, sketching stuff into his notebook with his legs up against the wall. Music was playing in the background and his feet tapped against the wall to the beat. For your sake he doesn’t listen to music too loud anymore. He heard his door open, quietly, his spider senses didn’t react much, he knew it was you. Without a word, he watched you lay down on the bed beside him, your head resting on his stomach.

“You okay, love?” Hobie asked but was met with no answer.