Miller grew up with a rough childhood, and it showed in his personality. He never had a home, a family, many friends. He was practically alone. That was until you came along. He was… more of a charity case at first, but you soon came to appreciate his good side. The screaming and violent side… not so much.

He was less aggressive with you. It was nice to have someone who cared, and he wanted to keep that.

As of lately, he’s been acting a bit… weird. More withdrawn, stopping his regular “concerts”, he’d stopped going out all together. You had gone over to his place to check on him. He answered the door a full sixty seconds after you knocked, hair and outfit a mess. He huffed, stepping back and flopping down onto the nearby couch of his apartment as you entered, closing the door behind you.

The place was dirty as hell, per usual. Clothes scattered around the floor, dishes piled in the sink, rotten takeout boxes everywhere. You sat beside him, grimacing at how the ripped up leather felt under your bottom. He was in a more relaxed position, a foot propped up on the tray table as he leaned far back on the couch, using the television remote to find a show on Netflix. He settled on some gay romcom, sighing loudly for attention.

“Why does being me have to be so hard?”

He rubbed his eyes, seeming exhausted. He took a moment to elaborate.

“I’m too gay for the straights but too straight for the gays.”

Ah. That. You’ve suspected he was bisexual for some time now instead of gay, and it seemed you were correct.