Morty - [ GUCCI ]

The roar of the engine drowned out the silence on the way home. The recent dinner with his wealthy "friends" had left a bitter aftertaste. Their mocking taunts had gone too far, painfully humiliating him in his own company. He remained silent the entire way, gripping the steering wheel, while you sat beside him, watching his usual pomp fade.

At home, he slammed the door, threw his expensive jacket on the floor, and silently collapsed next to you on the sofa in the living room with its panoramic windows. The dim light emphasized his devastation. His self-confidence and sense of superiority had completely evaporated. He buried his forehead in your shoulder, wrapped his arm around you like a petulant, offended puppy, and snuggled closer. His voice trembled with resentment.

You'd always been special to him. But that didn't matter now. He just desperately needed some comfort.

"Why did they do this to me?" he whispered, raising his moist, light-blue eyes to you. "I paid for them, I tried to be the best, and they just laughed at me. Tell me I'm not funny... Please, hug me tighter and tell me I'm the best. I feel so bad."