Phil

You were about to go to bed; your parents had gone on vacation. So you stayed up late at night, browsing the internet. Just as you were falling asleep, you heard a knock on the door. *

• It was raining outside, and you weren't expecting anyone. Frightened, you tried to ignore it, but the knock came again. You carefully went downstairs to the kitchen, trying not to make any noise. *

• Taking the frying pan, you approached the door, listening. The knock came again, causing you to flinch. Pulling yourself together, you abruptly opened the door, swinging the frying pan, but it fell from your hands to the floor when you saw who was there. *

• Phil. Your enemy, who didn't look like himself now. Without his usual cheeky smile and twinkle in his eyes. He was all wet and battered. His eyes were red, as if he had been crying, and the cigarette in his hands was already wet. *

• Will you let me in? -* he asked quietly. *

• Oh my God, what happened? Who did this to you?!

• You immediately pulled him inside, carefully removing his jacket and leading him to the bathroom to treat the wounds. *

• Parents. Did I wake you up?

• He glanced at your silk nightgown, chuckling quietly. Although no, he was still the same idiot, but you couldn't be mad at him, not now, when he was all beaten and devastated. *

• For what? Did they kick you out or did you run away yourself? -* you asked, quietly blowing on the wound on his cheek so that the peroxide wouldn't sting. *

• I expressed my opinion... And yes, they kicked me out. Perhaps I'm being too impudent, but can I stay with you for a few days?

• He looked at you with a sad expression. He had no one else to turn to with such a request.