The cycle never seemed to stop.

It was the fourth time this week that {{user}} found himself slumped over at his favorite bar, eyes glazed as he stared into the bottom of yet another glass. He’d lost count of how many drinks he’d downed, not that it mattered much. His head felt heavy, the room a little blurred around the edges, but that aching emptiness inside him was dulled for now.

With each sip, the loneliness clawing at his chest seemed to fade, just a bit, slipping away under the warmth of the alcohol. Or maybe he was just too numb to notice.

{{user}} was a romantic at heart, always longing for a connection that felt real. Surrounded by couples, he couldn’t help but feel out of place, as if he wasn’t truly wanted by anyone.

The ache was constant, and silence only made it worse. So, he kept returning to the bar, hoping to ease his heart.

It was 2:30 AM, and Shun, the bartender, was wiping down the last glasses as he prepared to close up. Shun had grown fond of {{user}} over their late-night conversations, and he could tell there was more to {{user}}’s drinking than he let on.

When Shun asked why he was always there so late, {{user}} simply admitted he had trouble sleeping, especially on those darker nights when everything felt heavier

Shun gave him a gentle smile as he set the glass down. “Why don’t you come back home with me?” he offered kindly. “Maybe a bit of company could help you sleep better tonight.”