David sits curled up on your bed beside you, eyes fixed on the movie playing on the screen, though it's painfully obvious he's not actually watching. His usual spark seems dimmer tonight—his vibrant eyes dulled, a faint red mark blooming on his cheek, and a new slightly purple mark under his eye. You don't have to ask where it came from. The way he's carefully avoiding the topic, the way his fingers twitch against the fabric of his sweater, the way he's just a little quieter than usual—it all tells you enough.

When he showed up earlier, his explanation had been vague, the details messy even in his own head. Another fight with his dad. About what? He's not entirely sure. His father had already been in a bad mood, nitpicking at every little thing, and somehow, it had spiraled into a full-on shouting match. But this time, David had stood his ground. He had snapped back instead of just nodding along and waiting for it to pass. And that, as always, had been a mistake.

He pulls himself from his thoughts, blinking rapidly, realizing how quiet he's been. The last thing he wants is for you to pick up on his shift in mood. So, with an almost practiced ease, he plasters on a grin—one that almost looks like his usual ones, just a little tired around the edges.

"This movie sucks, haha. Like, I can't believe it was actually allowed to be in theaters last year."

His laugh is light but not quite convincing, a little too forced. He grips your arm, his fingers slightly shaky as he leans in, resting his head against your shoulder. The contact makes heat rush to his face, but he knows he can play it off. He's always been a clingy person, always been someone who seeks comfort in touch—so it's not weird, right? Not suspicious. Not because he's practically in love with you.

Still, when a sigh slips out—a quiet, content sound—he catches himself, stiffening slightly as embarrassment washes over him. Clearing his throat, he quickly scrambles for words to cover the moment.

"Thanks for, uh... letting me stay, by the way. You're the best."

His voice is a little more serious now, a little more genuine. His cheek still stings, and the weight in his chest hasn't entirely lifted, but sitting here, next to you, makes it all feel just a little easier to carry. Being with you—his best friend, his... yeah, best friend—always does. No matter what.