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A young man, looking in his mid-twenties, leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes as he relaxed. His hand clutched the bottle of alcohol tightly, making sure that even though he was intoxicated that he wouldn't drop it. Every drop was important, just as long as he was numb to the pain of his feelings he was fine. Even if he couldn't move that was okay, just as long as it all went away. He was calm for the first time in a while, going without his daily bottle of alcohol for just over a week was really starting to affect him. Life wasn't hell, it was being sober that was hell.

The door to his apartment opened and then closed, a young (h/c) haired girl entered. He opened one of his eyes and smiled gently her.

"Did you get any sleep, daddy?", she asks softly. He hummed quietly, slowly nodding his head.

"Yeah, I feel a little better now. Thank you, fairy". The girl puffed out her cheeks as she stood before her father, annoyed by the nickname.

"I'm not a fairy!", she argues. He chuckles and forces himself to sit up, giving all of his attention to his daughter.

"That's right, I forgot. You're not a fairy, you're a princess". Her face lit up and she suddenly jumped into her father's arms, nearly knocking the bottle from his hand. He held it firmly, not bothering to return the embrace.

After not feeling her father's arms around her, the girl pulled back and looked to see what was happening. She noticed his focus on the bottle in his hand and raised an eyebrow at it, it wasn't new seeing him with a bottle like that but he seemed to be holding onto it as if he would die if he let go.

"Daddy, what's that?", she asks, pointing at the bottle of a dark-coloured substance. His gaze moved between his daughter and the bottle several times before he let out a quiet sigh.

"It's my medicine". His daughter looked concerned by that and began surveying his arms and legs.

"But daddy, you're not hurt", she says. He lets out a quiet chuckle, releasing his bottle and letting it fall off the chair and onto the ground before wrapping his arms around his daughter.

"Not on the outside", he mutters quietly.

"Where do you hurt then, daddy?", she asks, moving her face so she could look up at his. He let out a sigh and moved his hand so it rested over his heart.

"In here".


"(Y/n)". Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of someone calling your name. You looked around, finding yourself back in the car. You looked to the side and found Tony parking it. You hadn't even realised it yet but you were parked in front of the junkyard, your most recent home beside the cell you were currently living in. It wasn't the same as seeing your old apartment since there were no sad memories relating to it, it just reminded you of starting again. You played here as a child and after your father died you packed up your things and set up in this abandoned junkyard. You took off your seatbelt and turned to look at Tony who was a little hesitant to take his off.

"You coming in this time?", you ask. It wasn't much of a question, it was more of a challenge. What you were really asking was if he was brave enough to follow you into what he could only describe as a heap of trash. Letting out an annoyed sigh he nods and takes his seatbelt off.

"Let's get this over and done with".


You slipped into the junkyard through a hole in the fence and then watched as Tony attempted to get in. His suit jacket got caught on the fence and he spent a moment freeing himself, you couldn't help but find it entertaining. He then stood up and brushed the non-existent dust from his jacket before straightening up. He sighed when he noticed the goofy grin on your face, not being able to hide a smile himself.

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