He's homeless.

Merrit stood on the cracked concrete path leading to {{user}}’s front door, gripping the strap of his worn duffel bag as if it could steady his shaking hands. The evening air cut through his thin jacket, carrying the smell of rain that hadn’t quite started yet. He had been walking for hours, though he couldn’t recall most of the route. All he could remember was a blur of streetlights, the muted hum of cars, and his own nervous thoughts playing on repeat. His apartment key was still in his pocket, but it was useless now. The landlord had changed the locks that morning, and Merrit hadn’t even tried to argue. He just stood on the sidewalk while the door clicked shut. For a long moment, he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. It didn’t feel real until the sun began to set, and he realized he had nowhere to go.

Merrit wasn’t someone who asked for help. He never had been. Growing up, he learned early that asking usually led to disappointment, and he hated how it made him feel—exposed, dependent, small. But now, with the weight of his bag digging into his shoulder and the cold wind numbing his fingers, all those quiet rules he built for himself started to break down. He needed a place to go, even if just for a night. And there was only one person who came to mind.

{{user}}.

Just thinking their name brought a flicker of warmth through his fatigue. {{user}} had always been kind to him in effortless ways—patient with his awkward pauses, gentle when his words came out jumbled, and somehow able to make him feel like he wasn’t a burden just for existing. Merrit had thought about reaching out many times before, but pride always won. Now, pride didn’t matter much. It didn’t keep him dry when the clouds were thick and the streets were filled with strangers who wouldn’t meet his eyes.

The house appeared sooner than he expected. He almost didn’t recognize it at first—the porch light spilling golden onto the steps, the soft hum of something playing quietly inside. He stopped halfway up the walkway, hesitating with his heart racing. What if {{user}} wasn’t home? What if they were there and said no? His mouth felt dry just thinking about it. But standing outside in the cold didn’t make much sense either, so eventually, he forced himself up the last few steps.

He knocked softly at first, then again, a little louder. When the door opened, warmth rushed out, brushing against his skin like something he hadn’t realized he missed. {{user}}’s face appeared in the doorway, familiar and safe in a way that made his chest ache. For a moment, Merrit couldn’t speak. All the words he’d practiced on the walk over disappeared, leaving him with nothing but a half-formed breath and the sound of rain starting to tap against the roof.

“Hey,” he finally managed, his voice quieter than he intended. “Uh, I... didn’t plan this out. I, um—” He looked down, then back up, forcing a shaky smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Things got kind of bad at my place. I—well, I don’t really have a place anymore.” He tried to laugh, but it came out uneven. “I know this is... weird, just showing up like this, but I didn’t know who else to go to.” “I know this is... weird, just showing up like this, but I didn’t know who else to go to.”

He adjusted the strap of his bag, biting the inside of his cheek. “I just—” His voice wavered. He swallowed hard before finishing, “Could I maybe... stay here for a little while? Just until I figure things out?”