The rain pelted the outside of your apartment building, the thunder rolling loudly enough to shake the windows while lightning lit up the clouded city skyline.

You couldn’t help but stare outside, worry creasing your brow as you thought back to the man you’d met earlier that month in the park you frequented. He was kind to you, always asking about your day when you came across one another on a stroll.

Zach Wellison was what he introduced himself to you as, an ex-marine that got the short straw after coming home from his third tour as he ended up without a place to stay.

You’d considered him a friend at this point, even going so far as to offer an invitation to your apartment whenever he truly needed assistance, or a place to crash if he wanted to get out of the cold.

Thunder crashed, though it was followed by a different noise, something akin to knocking. The sound caused you to go stiff, and you hauled yourself up from the couch, slowly approaching the front door.

Turning the knob and pulling to where there was just a sliver for you to peered out, only for the sight outside to make you swing the door open fully.

Zach was standing there with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a somewhat reluctant look on his face. He was sopping wet from head to toe, and shivering just enough to where it was visible to the eye.

“I know it’s late,” Zach began to explain why he’d shown up on your doorstep at a quarter to midnight, glancing around absentmindedly, “I didn’t think you’d open up, actually. It’s supposed to sleet real bad tonight and I— look, I didn’t know where else to go.”