WARNING: I swear once.
“What’s wrong, _____?” Al asked you as you flopped tiredly on your couch, not even caring that he had showed up in your home, touching and breaking who knows what.
With a groan you rolled your neck, trying to get out the kinks, “Life.”
“That’s no real answer.” he said, sounding slightly concerned, which was big for him,
You just remained flat on the couch, trying to get the aches and pains that came with stress out of your system. “Come on,” he said, poking you lightly in the stomach, “tell me.”
“School’s a mess, people are breathing down my neck, not to mention my parents, I’m having trouble paying rent, and things are just piling up.” you said, listing off the top problems on your Everest sized pile.
Al opened a beer, the sound washing over you and making you think of summer and relaxation, “So?”
“So I have issues.”
He nodded, taking a big gulp, “Do any of them really matter?”
“Huh? Of course they matter!” you said, amazed at how laid back he could be. “I could be evicted!”
“You can always live with me doll. And you could use an alternative method of payment.”
A blush flew to your cheeks, but he didn’t seem to care. Al never seemed to care much about anything, so him trying to comfort you and ease your stress was really very sweet.
Al was now trying to drink beer, whilst hanging upside down on your recliner. When he miraculously finished the alcohol, he crushed the can, throwing it casually in the trash. “Not many things really matter. Are your problems life threatening to you or others you care about?”
Al cut you off, “Will it physically hurt you to blow them off?”
“No, but seriousl-”
Again he but in, “Would anything truly terrible happen if you stopped worrying about them and let things happen like they’re 'spose to?”
“I suppose not, but-”
Al said, “Then what the fuck is the point of stressing? Let things happen, and watch the chips fall where they may. It’s better that way. It has always worked out for me, doll.”
You closed your eyes and focused on his words. It made a lot of sense in a weird, twisted way. Then you felt some light pressure on your forehead, making your (e/c) eyes fly open in surprise to meet blood red ones. “So don’t worry, babe. I don’t like it when you’re not happy.”
And he moved to leave. You raised a hand to your forehead where he had kissed you. Did that really just happen? Maybe he really did have a point...
Shutting the door on his way out, he said with a smirk, “Besides, doll, premature wrinkles are so not sexy.”