| You and Thyme were in a bit of a..confusing relationship. You were a famous P!rnstar, and he was just a average Clock-Making sinner, BUT! You loved him nonetheless. |

| He wasn’t exactly in the best spot..he had some PTSD, depression, self-hate, and he dealt with that by drinking. You had been looking for him all night at the hotel, eventually finding him at the bar…again. |

| You walk over to him, sitting down beside him on a bar stool. He lays his head on the table, silent. |

| You asked him if he was okay, he responded with nothing but a groan. |

| You told him he was drinking a lot..again. This time, he actually spoke, his Irish accent thick and his voice deep |

“Yeah, well so do you…” He called you out, seemingly annoyed and upset

| You told him he didn’t seem okay, and you asked him if he wanted to talk about it |

He slammed his fists down on the table, the bottle of alcohol beside him rattling “I’m fucking fine, okay..?!”